If Everything Means Something, Then Nothing Means Anything!

OK…as interesting, confusing, or stupid as that title sounds, the fact of the matter is that I don’t really have anything to post this week. I’m not really up to “giving a lesson” or “sharing my opinion” on anything. I don’t even know why I quoted those phrases in the last sentence, but I’m not going to try to figure it out or explain why. As the title of my blog says…here’s a stream of consciousness as best as I can do.

I’m not sure why, but I related the following story to some friends this week: Once, when I was playing catcher, a guy fouled off a pitch straight down with backspin into my crotch. I was wearing a cup of course but the only way I can explain it is that the ball kinda hit me in the ass and spun my cup up into my groin and I couldn’t fix my junk without putting my hand down my pants…so that’s what I did…while I was laying on my side in pain. The batter, ump, pitcher, and infield were cracking up. Also, when my manager came up to me on my side he just said “I’m not touching that”.

In the summer of 1977, I was on a road trip with my family and my Tio Beto’s and Tio Rito’s family. We were caravanning to Chicago for Sister Tia’s 25th anniversary as a Nun. I’m pretty sure we were headed north on 55 out of St. Louis and I was riding in Tio Beto’s Winnebago with my cousin Frankie. We were in the back bedroom of the RV playing with some action figures and had the window open. I was “flying” Shazam through the draft of the window when we hit a bump and my arm hit the edge of the window and I dropped him. IF you happen to be out that way and see a Shazam action figure on the side of the road just know…that’s mine.

If two French people kiss with their tongues do they call it “us” kissing?

You shouldn’t murder, even if you feel like killing someone because of something they did to you.

In the summer of 1980, I spent the day at my best friend’s house one day. There happened to be a tornado watch or warning (whichever is less dangerous) that was put out that day, for just about the whole day. His Mom called from work and told us to just stay PUT in the house…don’t go out. But you see…we had these passes we had received from “Hart Bowl” that allowed us to bowl one free game a day. And Jeff and I had gone EVERY single day so far that summer. So we debated with ourselves for a good five minutes and decided – we’d hop on our bikes, race to the bowling alley, bowl our one free game, and then race back home…tornados be damned! And that’s just what we did. We went and we bowled…the greatest games of our lives! Maybe it was the adrenaline rush we were on, maybe it was because we had bowled for 23 straight days already, or maybe it was because we just bowled without thinking. Whatever it was, we were both on fire that day. Strike after strike after strike…we were both perfect through 7 frames. We didn’t end up with the magical 300 but it was close. I ended up with a 285 and Jeff had a 289. We got done and raced home – high from the greatest games we had ever rolled…and we couldn’t tell anyone…because we “never left the house” that day.

If you never ask, you’ll probably never know.

That’s all I got.