Thursday, September 26, 2002

I hate it when someone I think is older than I am turns out to be younger than I am, much younger. Does that make sense? Does life make sense? Do dollars make sense, or cents, or doughnuts?

My niece is thinking about getting a new car. She wants to lease a Chevy Malibu. I think she wanted my advice ... like that would help. Whenever anyone asks me what kind of car I have I tell them I have a red one.

I've spent the last half hour clicking on my website in a weak effort to run up the hit count. Live much? No, thanks I have cable modem.

When I was in college, back in the 70's, after the Air Force, my roommate and I wrote a song about Mr. Hockey, Gordie Howe. I wrote the lyrics and my roommate wrote the music. I don't remember much of the song, but I do remember the chorus, and it went something like this ...

a-one, and a-two,
Gordie-eeeeeeee Howe,
Gordie, how do you score all those gosh darn goals, Gordie
When you have to be forty-eight, or fifty-nine, or even seventy-six years old?

Gosh darn wasn't my original choice, but my roommate was a christian boy, so I compromised. You have to pick your fights.