May 2011

For those who didn’t return

And for those who did, and were broken all their lives,

and for those who came home and we have lost in our midst

Thank you.

I can ramble a lot about how much I appreciate what you did, but it would just feel trite. So thanks, and I’ll try to deserve your sacrifice. As a nation, we haven’t been doing so well, in that regard. Maybe I can do better as an individual.

behold, the healing power of my Nuts.

Woke up a dozen times last night because of pain in my hands. Discovered for whatever reason that laying on my side and cupping my nuts in my hand made the pain go away. Then I’d wake up with the other hand smarting, roll over, and switch hands.

These are my evenings, folks, sleeping like an eggbeater and squeezing my balls. Is it any wonder I seem deranged?

Indy

the 100th running. Florence Henderson will be there, singing God Bless America. I don’t know if they’re going to have some half dressed unrecognizable pop bitch screaming the national anthem, but I rarely care about that.

Though it’s supposed to be a miserable day, seeing Jim Nabors sing “Back Home Again in Indiana” will be, for me, the official Opening of the Season, the Cracking the lid on a new can of Indiana Summer.

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