FINIS

Ah, do we face the final curtain? Like most things in life it's easier said than done. Viewed a Namath DVD tonight at the library. It was part of an NFL-issued autobiography of Namath. So bloody amazing to watch those old clips of Joe Willie. Sublime. Transcendent. John Madden, his old nemesis from the AFL is there: Namath had the best looking drop and threw the best looking ball he'd ever seen. And we agree. He would turn and glide back and drop ten yards. Effortless. Like a ballet dancer. Then whip the ball down field forty yards in an instant. Do quarterbacks even take ten yard drops anymore? One of the reasons for the low completion percentage and interceptions is that Namath threw to his wideouts, instead of continually dumping off to running backs. They show a classic pass play with Namath hitting Maynard or Sauer in stride 55 yards, throwing off his back foot falling away. That's Elway stuff. Favre is the closest thing today to Namath. Favre has a ton of interceptions as well. He's a cocksure gunslinger in the Namath style, except with better knees. When we played high school football we wore the same Puma white cleats that Joe wore. So cool. Pity we lost track of them. We also had a couple of those colorful Joe Namath sport shirts. Wish we still had those.

Library is closing. Guess we'll go over to rec center and watch the finish of the BCS championship. Then, it may well be finis.

We've become a regular false-Kassandra of sorts, at least relative to our own fate. So hard to actually end our life. But even harder to live, to pull out of this mess we've created for ourself. We feel like paying the ultimate price. Settle all accounts with one pull. Thus is the thought process of a depressed and suicidal fat piece of garbage. All we really want to really do is drink and play poker, with an occasional break for TV. No more money though. We blew it all, and then some.

Well, Dan, guess we'll have to pass. We can't say with certainty that we are serious, and that was your stipulation. You would make a good homeless shelter counselor--get 'em well and move 'em out. The City would concur with that sort of thing. We can see the point. We used to preach to our own brother and sister along those lines. Hey, wasn't my pledge class something special? First Rob M and now perhaps yours truly. Was there something in the water or the air that semester? LOL. Morbidly funny stuff. We can't bring ourself to asking for a job from that contractor that we knew back with the City. What's the point? We would only disappoint. Too embarassing. Once you get off that treadmill, as we did back in April, it's dreadfully hard to get back on it. We knew that at the time but didn't care. Just had to get the hell out of Dodge regardless of the consequences, which have now come home to roost. Like the saying: "A friend in need is a pest!" We hate resorting to charity and so do those couple of folks we've asked lately. LOL. Charity only delays the inevitable end. Getting involved with messed-up folks only brings disappointment. Can't save the world, even one person at a time, unless that person wants to save themself. And, we don't seem or be able to do it. Let that momentum of a life just reach zero. Absolute inertia. We've had a good run, some chances to pull out of the abyss. Just didn't work out, that's all. Running a marathon in 4:04 is big. So was shaking Dean Martin's hand after his final show in Vegas at Ballys in 1991. Make those two things a tie for first. What would be the point of living beyond this day? Just more killing time. Too much stuff to sort out. Easier to just exit the picture and let others do it. We are a coward and we are lazy. And we have live a life with a certain freedom. We can't envision any other way. Our way worked for 47 years and a few days. Typing that age makes it seem like an awfully young age. We should have figured out a way to hold on with the City. Then, again, we got a kick out of throwing it all away. Set the final solution in motion. Oddly enough, we feel pretty good these days.

What a day this has been/ What a rare mood I'm in/ Why it's almost like falling ten floors......

Now eight days in the car. It's actually not that bad. The money is, finally, approaching zero. A single two-dollar bill. A single one-dollar bill. Seven or so SBA dollar coins. A couple bucks in both Kennedy halfs and silver quarters. Maybe we'll drift downtown today and just go ahead and jump once and for all.

Boy, Jim Rome is a funny guy on the radio. He played this tape of a 911 call. A woman is saying that her kids are out of control or something. Then the 911 guy says "what do you want me to do come over and kill them?" "What", she said. Hey I'm just kidding, he said. What's your name I'm calling you supervisor. No amount of apologizing could appease the woman. Funny stuff. Then Rome comes back and wonders what will prompt the next 911 call from that woman. Hey, my kids won't come back inside for dinner. Hey, they won't brush their teeth. On so on. I know--you had to be there.