Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Football Season Is Over

No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun – for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax – This won’t hurt.



  1. That’s a little ominous TotD.

  2. As a consolation, Doc Thompson got to have his ashes fired out of a cannon.

    We should all be so lucky.

    I’ll settle for mine being scattered into the Pacific, out past the Golden Gate.

  3. OK, I just wrote very nearly the same reply as I did last year. I’m all out of clever today.

    I had my copy of Shark Hunt with me when I found out about HST – still my standard travel reading. It’s lowbrow (or low-vitriol?) for Hunter, but I cannot read his Super Bowl piece about Grantland Rice and the precision jackthrusts too many times.

    • Shark Hunt’s where it started for me, too. I still remember seeing the cover, with the Doc leaning back on that giant motorcycle, Dunhill-in-holder clenched between his teeth.

      • some of his best later stuff was in his column on espn of all places…search “page 2” on the website and it’s all archived

        my personal tradition is to re-read the scanlan’s derby piece before the race every year

  4. When I die, I would like my remains to be scattered along the beaches of Long Island.

    Also, I don’t want to be cremated.

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