Cheney’s wicked mad at me this week and refuses to talk about it. He doesn’t turn in his post and he doesn’t return phone calls. Finally last night he called me. “Lost made me a little hot under the collar,” he said. “I hate that fucking creep, what’s his name. That bastard.”
“Jack?” I said.
“Yes,” Cheney said. “And Desmond…puh-leeeease!”
“I know,” I said. “Totally.” He doesn’t even hear you.
Nothing has really amused me lately.
There’s the fun of conflating important things with unimportant things. In this example, the author chooses to equate a little girl’s car accident with the pain in Felix Hernandez’s right elbow. King Felix would so not approve.
For the first time all year, I didn’t watch one pitch of the game today. I left the house about a half hour before the game started, and I didn’t get back until after it was over (which is why you didn’t get a game thread – sorry about that). I wasn’t taking an intentional day off from the team or boycotting Jarrod Washburn. Instead, I went to the hospital to see a little girl named Skylar.
She’s six years old, and she’s in the pediatric ICU at Baptist Medical Center here in Winston Salem. On April 5th, she was in a car that got into a collision that caused a large accident, and in the process, her neck was separated from her spine. She has limited movement of her right side, almost no movement in her left side, and is unable to talk. She’s six years old, but she’s a fighter, and she’s going to make it through.
For a few hours, I forgot that Felix Hernandez existed. His strained flexor couldn’t have been further from my mind. It didn’t matter.
No one’s a bigger fan of Felix than I am, and I get a lot of joy out of watching him pitch. But man, spend a few hours with a girl like Skylar, and you’ll care a lot less. Some things in life matter more than others. I want Felix to get well, but I want Skylar to get well a lot more.
Hilarious stuff. Me, on the other hand. I have more important things to deal with.
Like the bulb on my new HDTV. That shit keeps burning out. Seriously, fuck Toshiba.
This is for everyone with bigger problems than me. One of my friends ran into her old boyfriend at a bar. She texted him, “seeing you makes my heart throw up.” God bless the texting people. That’s a lot of data entry. Someone was telling me that one of their first tech jobs was to transcribe what people were paging and send it along. All these someones, it’s so easy to get confused.