I see now, baseball is a metaphor for life. It's boring.

This is baseball season, unfortunately. We are in the wasteland of sports that is the summer, and although there are folks who are probably excited about tomorrow night's NBA playoff game, I'm sure it'll pass. I watched some of the NCAA baseball tournament today, and the vile Mississippi State Bulldogs ended the noble Clemson Tigers' quest for a national title this afternoon. But I finished following it on the radio. If you have read any of my work, you know I have rather strong opinions about the commercials. (I write this as if I expect somebody new to come across this page today.) I did see a Sonic commercial I did enjoy the other day, involving some uncertainty as to whether or not one of the characters knows how many letters there are in the standard Roman alphabet. (That's our alphabet, by the way.)

I was going to take this in the direction about how annoying commercials on the radio are, even more so than on television because you don't get the odd Geico or Sonic commercial that makes the whole free tv worthwhile. (Apparently, it costs like thirty bucks to get a commercial on the radio, because they make Alltel look preferable. [Actually, that's not true. Alltel is still much worse.]) I realized, though, as I was getting ready to write about the commercials on radio, that my life was pretty hollow right now. Like those delicious, delicious Easter bunnies.

I was also given a depressing description of the way life goes. I described my days as spending some time in the lab, coming home and talking to folks online afterwards while occasionally watching Law & Order. My mom basically said that's how life goes, except I'll have more money then. You know what? No dice. I don't want to be that guy who wears shirts and complaining about mortgage rates. I want to be the guy who wears shirts and talks about how I wish I were born in the 1820s so I could wear monocles and top hats. If my life were boring, then my blog were boring. Then I would be wasting your time, wouldn't I? I have an obligation to talk about the 1820s rather than mortgage rates, and it's a responsibility I don't take lightly.