1. I had just started my run yesterday when I noticed that Mr. Neil Young was busking near the Halley’s Comet sign. If you are a fan of Neil Young, you will remember the video way back when in which he did the same thing back in the 1970s in Glasgow, which is very similar to Corpus Christi, so this did not surprise me at all. He was playing “Heart of Gold” as I went by. I stopped for a moment to listen, but I was far enough into my run that I couldn’t bag it for later and just sit and listen. Besides, he had announced earlier in the day that he was yanking all of his music from Spotify. This just a week after I finally coughed up the bucks to pay Spotify so I could listen to all his music on Spotify. But, still. It’s Neil Young. Playing on my course. And then, by the time I got back, he was gone. What should I have done?
2. Jenny, my VRB, has become enamored with the Superfood. It’s an energy bar that Deuce sent from the Great State of Taiwan. It’s really good, and she must have more. I investigated, and it costs $1,080 for a box. Yes, I realize the ad says NT (no tax), but still. A thousand bucks for a box of 12 works out to something like $8.50 per bar. I don’t know for sure. Never went to Jenster Math Camp. Worth the price? Or wait till he smuggles them through customs on the way from Taiwan to Portland, get him to pass to Mild Sauce, talk her into running Cornbelt 24 hour run in Iowa where she gives them to El Señor, who then hands them to me next time he appears in a vision? 3. I’m thinking of joining the campaign to change the term “transgender,” which has traditionally made people a little nervous, to “trans-jenner,” which evokes warm, fuzzy memories of Wheaties boxes. Yes, our Wheaties were fuzzy. They generally stayed in the back of the pantry too long till the Cocoa Bombs ran out. The problem: Does campaigning for acceptance of a reformed decathlete somehow imply that I’m in favor of the javelin throw? Because I don’t like that feeling of being impaled during invervals. OK, maybe the last interval when you just want to die anyhow. Should I embrace the social reform movement, or go to the store and get some Cocoa Bombs? Could be the cure for Beanee Weenee withdrawals. Running is more complicated than they lead you to believe in the brochures.