Can there be anything more comic than a bunch of 5-year-old Little Leaguers playing their first game? I think not. Hard to decide what my favorite moment was during yesterday evening's game. Maybe it was when my grandson somehow crossed home plate after the guy who batted him in. Or mayb e it was the guy who, instead of cathcing the ball, ran from it. But this is how our future baseball stars start their careers. So carry on, boys and girls.
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I haven't yet reported on my wristwatch collection, which must number 200 timepieces, most of them worthless. I just can't stop collecting things, which would explain the Elvis LPs in gold, blue, green, and red vinyl.
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One of my geezer-class professors has l-o-n-g sideburns, a la Steve McGarrett on the old "Hawaii Five-O" TV series. So I spend much of the class imagining a razor floating through the air and then shaving off those sideburns.
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Ah, the golden years: floaters in the eyes, ringing in the ears, a shortage of synapses, and more prescriptions than Elvis and Heath Ledger combined.
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