Nice Sox.

I've been fortunate enough to come into the last couple of pennant games in the NY/BO series at the last of the 8th or 9th inning. You may believe I've missed out on the essence of the game. I believe I've avoided cravings for peanuts, popcorn, and beer. And I've seen what I need to see. It's really all about how it turns out, right?

I sometimes think I'd like to do life like that. Just see how it all turns out. In this case, though, I believe I'd rather be around for the good bits.

Taking a day off tomorrow. A little tossing, a little computing, and then a night hanging out with some friends. Male friends. The sort who condone a scratch, a belch, or the occasional ... biological impropriety. The ladies are heading to the cinema, where they won't have to endure the testosterone. This should be a good day.

Yuck.

Can't we just elect officials on merit? The ugliness leaves us swimming in swill and sewage for the better part of a year--Time much better invested in productive actions to address persistent problems. I'm quickly becoming either a politician's greatest hope or worst nightmare. I'm ready to step into the booth, cover my eyes, and resign myself to an uncertain fate. May the luckiest candidate win.

Kerry me Daddy, I'm Bushed.

Talking with friends, I'm asked, "Who do you prefer, Bush or Kerry?" My knee-jerk reaction leans to one, but my honest answer is that I'd sure like a viable third alternative.