Let's Tackle the Obit Another Day, Shall We?
So there's an obvious story for a topic today, but you know... I can't do it. It makes me too sad. Kirby meant more to me than Kurt Cobain and Paul Wellstone combined, and I'm just not ready to talk about his death right now. It'd get lost among all of the tributes today, anyway.
No, today we're going to stay away from heavy and go fluffy.
First, the photo here is really scary. Maybe it's because it's so dark, maybe it's because Nelly is looking like he's passing a stone, maybe his head is so distorted that it looks like the PS2 NBA Live Nelly. But that's not the point: how, exactly, did Don Nelson get such sweet seats at the Academy Awards? Is this some sort of perk for former NBA coaches? Was Chuck Daly behind Jack Nicholson? Was Cotton Fitzsimmons behind Jennifer Garner?
And I still look like George Clooney, right? Right?
Oh Yanni, what went wrong? It seemed like losing the moustache was a good idea, at least stylistically; however, maybe that was the only thing holding in the rage. Now he's beating women. Funny, there's no mention of it on yanni.com. However, I did find this:
Yanni has always charted a solitary and distinctive path. A champion swimmer and self-taught pianist with the gift of perfect pitch, he left the comforts of Kalamata, Greece, on the spectacular shores of the deep blue Mediterranean, and then began to fashion his own kind of American success story, later to become an international success story.
Thirdly... Drugs are bad.... Mmmkay?
And finally. Tomorrow morning I'm headed up to Lake of the Woods for the annual ice fishing extravadanza. JMatt, McEathron, and I are heading out tomorrow morning. We really rough it so I expect a lot of pity. Anyway, once again my view for the next four days will alternate between this:
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