Another drive-by.

I’m covering the reception desk at work and decided to “treat” (i.e. subject) you to a quick, stream-of-consciousness rant.

By the way, I just witnessed something absolutely priceless. We have a daycare center here, and kids are running all over the place. A mother near the reception desk just repeatedly told her son, Rudy, to "Quit calling people names," which is sage enough advice. However, mom followed it up with "Quit being such a jerk." I kid you not. Take note, Alanis Morrisette: THAT is irony!

HELP ME
Yesterday I splurged and purchased two books that I couldn’t afford. One was recommended by the late Douglas Adams: “The Blind Watchmaker,” by Richard Dawkins, which is presumably the definitive guide for laymen on why Evolution is absolutely true.

Cursory examination, by the way, seems to indicate that while Dawkins is wholeheartedly pro-Evolution, "origins" mean little if anything to him. The stuff that eventually became what we see around us "just happened," it seems, which doesn't help me a bit.

The other book is called “The Singularity is Near,” a behemoth of a hard cover book suggesting that the next step in human evolution is from biological to technological beings. It was recommended by a friend of mine.

When I say “couldn’t afford” the books I mean I shouldn’t have bought them, not that I truly don’t have the fifty bucks. But that money could be spent on other things: Money towards the house my wife and I hope to buy this fall; my wife’s birthday present(s) next month, blah blah blah.

Consider this a poll: Do I do the responsible thing and return the books, or spoil myself a little and keep them? Let me know soon! I'm driving by the bookstore this afternoon!

KIRBY PUCKETT
I’m no sports fan, and it doesn’t matter to me one bit whether or not Kirby Puckett, during his short life and career, broke every touchdown record in the NFL.

However, I will say that his passing affected me. Say what you will about Puckett’s personal life, he seemed to exude a genuine delight to be alive. I’m sure he had his moments of moral failure, but caller after caller to radio shows are extolling Puckett’s generosity towards fans; how he invited complete strangers to his office and happily handed out autographed items.

One more thought on the moral shortcomings: Would anyone care to pit theirs against his? I sure wouldn’t. If my friends were pressed, they could come up with a litany of reasons why yours truly is no pinnacle of virtue. And let’s not even bring up my former spouse.

Puckett’s passing also affected the way I look at the Big Picture. There have been times recently I have woke up in a cold sweat realizing that my life is half over and I haven’t accomplished anything. Age 80 seems to be but moments away sometimes.

However, when I heard that Puckett died at 44, the six years I have before reaching that age seems—for whatever reason—to be an eternity. In six years I’ll have finished school. I will likely be on the ground floor of a new, exciting career. I will own a home with my wife. The future is unknown and wholly exciting.

May Kirby rest in peace, and may we all find even a sliver of happiness that brings to our faces a smile as wide as his.