
My father went more than a decade without taking a sick day.

My father went more than a decade without taking a sick day.

I almost shut down this site the other day.

After a dreadful season in which he was faced to confront his own basketball mortality, Kobe Bryant’s final game was the most Kobe Bryantest game possible. He scored 60 points! On 50 shots! In the locker room after the game, the Lakers popped champagne! This after a season in which they finished 17 – 65, the second-worst record in the league. That’s nutty.

Every Friday, I write a quick little essay in the space before pimping what I wrote over the past week. This week, I had nothing. I’ve been looking at this blank page for a few hours.
So let’s talk about writer’s block.

Of all the white male things that I never really got into – Nirvana, soccer, Vineyard Vines, poker, casual racism, blatant sexism – the one that I thought I’d like is golf.

It’s been a Batman week for me.
For my birthday, my wife (and kid) decorated the dining room in a Batman theme and gave me a Batman cake like I was turning 12 and not 36.
I also wrote a long piece on how Tim Burton’s Batman films are better in memory than in reality.

My birthday is Monday.

I’ve been sick all week.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about getting older.

I made a mistake.