God, what a fucking shit year. As a whole, I would love to drag it out in the alley, beat it until it begged for death, and then put a bullet in it.1 Violent metaphor aside, I guess I’d just like a do-over on 2016, because reality as taken a walk off the fucking map.
Life
Anthem for 2016
P.S.: Fuck you, 2016, you heartless piece of shit.
Making Note of the Cubs Win
It seems weird to have this blog in which I document large swaths of my life and not at at least make some note in passing that the Cubs finally ended a drought of 108 years and won the World Series last night.
Echoes of Our Parents
As you age, you begin to notice echoes of your parents in your day-to-day behavior. This is particularly difficult if, like me, one those parents was a waste of carbon. There are times when I am surprised or even amused at things — for example, I talk to cats the same way my mother does (same tone, same words, same rhythms of speech) — and there are times when I am horrified by things, like when I do or say anything like my father would have done.
He attacked everything in life with a mix of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence, and it was often difficult to tell which was which.
“He attacked everything in life with a mix of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence, and it was often difficult to tell which was which.”
— Douglas Adams
(I would like this on my tombstone, please.)
A champion is one who gets up when he can’t.
— Jack Dempsey
