Don't Worry... Be Happy... or something like that.

I don't have a real good opener right here, but I had to put this down in print somewhere. After softball tonight, I came home, got something to eat, and turned on a new show called "America's Got Talent." The judges are David Hasselhoff, Brandy and Piers Morgan. Now this Morgan guy has been the editor of some fairly well known rags. In other words, he can spot talent, recognize it, and report it. Fine. I'm O.K. with that.

Now, here's a question for you, my loyal readers; am I the only person in America that sees the unbelievably glaring and bitter irony in Brandy and David Hasselhoff judging competition on a show called "America's Got Talent?" For the sake of the planet, I hope not. Nice job, NBC... ya really knocked it out of the park with selecting a no-talent hack with a great ass that can't sing her way out of a paper bag, and the guy that played the lead in "Knight Rider." Well done.

Dear NBC, I've got an idea for a show. It's called, "Competitive Target Shooting With a High Powered Firearm at a Bullseye Wedged Between Two Puppies" hosted by Stevie Wonder. No? Too risque? O.K.... maybe. Wait, I've got another one. It's called "How To Pick Up Chicks The Safe Way" hosted by Mike Tyson. That's a winner if I've ever heard one.

By the way, it's on in the background, and they just put a guy through to the next level that strapped 25 bicycle horns to an orange jumpsuit and played "Frere Jacques." 'Nuff said? Good. Let's move on.

I got a lot of emails and feedback on the last post that I wrote about marriage... ranging from the stupid to the sublime and everything in between. I won't post them all here. I don't think that Blogger gives me enough space to slap them all up here, and the majority of you probably have neither the time nor the inclination to read a bunch of stuff that was meant for my eyes only. Yes, I could post them anonymously, but then, what fun would that be. I will tell you, however, that neither side provided enough compelling evidence for me to be in favor of either marriage or the single life. Whilst (I've been itching to use that word) the majority are of the opinion that it's a bad idea to get married, I'm not 100% sold. I'm somwhere in the 65%-80% range. The reason being that I like the idea of me having someone else out there that's going to enhance my existence to the point of essentially legally complying with the idea of having sex with that one person for the rest of my natural life. It's like some really long and really twisted game of "Where's Waldo," only the pages in the open book are the size of a freaking planet. Thanks, God. Wanna narrow the field or at least thin the herd a little bit here? No? How about a hint. No? O.K.... how about this; give me a sign. If the phone rings in the next 10 minutes, I'll marry the person that's on the other end of the conversation, and accept the fact that you, God, said that it's gospel, and I'll live out my days that way. Ready? Go.

Well, it's now 10 blasphemous minutes later, and I'm engaged to Phil from Overstock.com letting me know that they received my order today for a new Palm Pilot. Shit. I was really kind of hoping that girl from Nebraska still had my number. Rats. Anyway, a September wedding is planned, provided that Phil can get the week off. Apparently Overstock is planning a liquidation sale or something and he might have to bag on the whole idea. Damn... aside from the lisp, Phil sounded like a nice guy. I'll post the pictures sometime in October. I hear I look great in a tux.

O.K.... now that we've got the rest of my life planned out, let's move on. Really, this time.

I've been thinking about the whole marriage thing, and I've boiled it down to this; happiness. I'm not just talking about marriage here, people. It's about being happy in general. If you're not happy in your marriage, get the hell out. Go somewhere and do something that makes you happy. I had a fleeting moment of this tonight. Again, I was on the outside looking in (kinda), but a beautiful moment nevertheless. Details you ask? Here you go.

I mentioned that I had a softball game tonight. Short story; we won 17-3. We hit over .700 as a team. For those of you that aren't into the whole stats thing... that's really f'ing good. Regardless, I was on deck behind Noah. Before I continue, let me say this; Noah can hit a softball like no human I have ever seen. It's pretty amazing. Moving on. The count was 2-1, and the pitcher tossed an absolute meatball that split the heart of the plate and descended like a badminton birdie to Noah's waist. There's no other way to put this other than this; Noah just uncoiled and absolutely crushed the ball in a mammoth arc over the left field fence. It took off like a shot in a perfect angle, froze for a moment when it started it's descent, and landed somewhere in the Western side of the 585 area code. The ball's family has been notified, and will release it's name after careful examination of the dental records and DNA testing.

As the ball rose, Noah dropped the bat, stood in the batter's box for just a second or two admiring the moonshot that had just lept off the molded piece of aluminum that had settled at his feet, and audibly said, "thank you" to the pitcher.

Wanna see what pure joy looks like? Come to my game next week. It's at 7:15. Bring a telescope.

I have never hit a home run. I'm not a big guy, I don't work out, and every time I round second, I drop the ashtray. Anyway, in all likelihood, I never will... unless, of course, Barry Bonds and Rafael Palmiero happen to give me a call and clue me in on their training regimen. I'm looking for something that will allow me to hit home runs, but at the same time expand my head to double the size that it is presently... and if you can throw in some fits of rage and uncontrollable back acne, that would be great. Again, moving on.

As I was saying, I have never hit a home run. Here's what I think that feeling is like. It's complete satisfaction and happiness. Now, maybe I'm making it out to be more than it actually is. I'm sure for guys that can do it, it's not that big a deal, but here's my take.

I believe it to be the same kind of feeling that I get after sitting on my couch with a pen, paper, guitar, and a martini, and putting something into print and verse that no one has ever heard before, and I know in my heart of hearts (yeah, I don't know what that phrase means) that it's good. It's the feeling after you come off stage with your band that has never played in public before and you know you just rocked the house and people come up and ask when and where you're playing again. It's the feeling of hitting a 6-iron out of the rough on #4 at Riverton from behind a tree, and you feel that ball just give, and you know as soon as it leaves the club that it's pin-high and you're putting for birdie... all before you see the ball even land, and get back in the cart and pick up your friend that hit a drive into the fairway and just air mailed his second shot. It's the feeling of... wait... never mind. That's enough and I'm rambling. You get the idea.

What I'm getting at here is that it's different for everybody. Like with Noah hitting that ball that hasn't landed yet, I'm sure it's a very happy and satisfying moment for him personally, but those of us that aren't blessed with incredible hitting power, perfect timing and a swing that would make Alex Rodriguez jealous have to have other things. It's really a matter of necessity, but, again, it's different for everybody.

The reason that I say it's a matter of necessity is because if you didn't have at least one thing that made you really happy, why stick around? I'm not saying that it's something you have to do, say or experience every day, but everybody has that something, and I'm sure that not a lot of people have the same thing. For a lot of us, it probably changes from time to time, but again, it's different for everybody and whatever it is, it doesn't really matter. Right now, one of my favorite things is an email exchange that I have that's been going on for about a month now. I'll be sitting in my office, I'll glance down at the clock in the lower right hand corner of my screen, and I'll see that little envelope that tells me I have a new email. That makes me happy. Check that... it makes me really happy. You know who you are.

Do yourself and me a favor here. I'll feel like I've done my job if this happens. When you're done reading this, think about the last time you were really just happy and satisfied. That time when you just had that happy and contented feeling and nothing else in the world mattered and you could give a frog's fat ass what your boss was nagging you for, where your girlfriend wanted you to take her, or how you were going to somehow work a moonwalk into a wedding reception after 10 glasses of red wine. It's a challenge, I know.

Seriously, take some time. Sit back in your chair. Take a long hard pull off of that bottle of water or cup of coffee that you're drinking. Stop reading this and think. Find it. Flip open that mental rolodex and go back. Remember it. Remember who was there. Remember what you were wearing. Remember how cold it was or how un-Godly hot it was. Remember what song was playing, or remember the deafening silence that covered you like a blanket. Remember what card was turned, what club you hit, what beer someone had just bought you, or what hat you were wearing after someone made your randomly selected card appear in ashes on his arm.

Find it.

I have my memory locked away. I won't put it in print here... it's something that I keep just for me. I'll tell you this; I can tell you what that moment smells like. It's that vivid to me.

O.K.... got it? If not, scroll up two or three paragraphs and re-read... then continue.

Got it now? Good. Remember that feeling? Pretty good, right?

Now, do this; make a point of doing something that will make that happen again within the next week. Lather, rinse, repeat. Know what? Let's make it two weeks. That'll give me enough time to filter through the emails.

Do it. You'll thank me.

As for me... I'm going to sign off for the night. I've got batting practice in the morning, and Phil's supposed to call me later. We're going to go through Overstock's discount China patterns.

Until next time...

R