Needless to say, this has been a rough week for us, what with some assholes deciding the Boston Marathon would be a good place to practice their IED skills, then that explosion at a fertilizer plant near Waco last night that has so far left 5 to 15 dead. [Not going to entertain any conspiracy theories here because I don’t believe in them.]
On Monday, I tipped back a Sam Adams Alpine Spring and thought of Boston, which was my home for nearly four years and where I met great, good friends like the inimitable Greg Walsh [Who will FOREVAH be known as Gary. You still owe me $3 for that Gatorade, dork], and the one and only Rob Terry, with whom I attended my first Red Sox game at Fenway Park. It was only nine bucks for bleacher seats in 1996 and Hank Aaron himself was there to give an award to Mo Vaughn. There are a lot of other memories of Boston, which I would write about were it not for having some sense of decorum here.
Aside from a stopover at the Houston Airport, I’ve never been to Texas. But today, I will swing by the local BevMo and get a six pack of Lone Star, the National Beer of Texas, and tip one or two back after work in honor of those who died in service of helping us grow more crops and ensuring our lawns remain green.
And then I wilI probably sit slack-jawed in front of my TV, turn on the DVR, and watch the National Geographic Channel’s mini-series “The ’80s: The Decade That Made Us” and try to avoid any other bad news. You know it’s been a rough week when you’d rather focus on horrible ’80s fashions, hear synth-heavy ’80s “music” and marvel at ’80s Big Hair than the reality of today.