This is not Nam, Dude, There are rules.

The following is part of the conversation I had today with the random stranger I asked to help me pump gas. Actually, I didn't ask him to help me pump gas, I asked him to ask the clerk inside the gas station to come out and help me, but this guy volunteered instead.

Picture: middle-aged guy; beer gut; dirty jeans and sweatshirt; sunglasses; scraggily blonde hair jutting out underneath a shitty Oakland Raiders ball cap; two days of white beard stubble.

My side of the conversation consisted mostly of "Yeah?" "Really?" "Wow." "Crazy." etc.

Him: Yeah man, my buddy came back from 'Nam. Couldn't walk. Had this Charger. He and another guy - had a Torino I think - He got into all sorts of shit with that thing. Tearing all over the place...and this was back in like '74,'75 when cars really kicked ass. Cops chasing after him.

Me: It had hand controls?

Him: Yeah man, not like this (referring to my van). It was silver, I think. The other guy had a Torino. But my buddy, he got Agent Orange and died a couple years later.

Him: I can't believe I'm 50, man. I can still ride a bike 10 miles without stopping. But I hurt all over, man. I never thought I lived to be 50. We used to do all kinds of drugs and shit...acid, orange acid, pot, mescaline...I still smoke pot. Yeah man, I've been smoking weed everyday since I was 13. Yeah, the only time I stopped smoking pot was when I was in jail. Yeah man, I got arrested and was in jail for four months. Couldn't get any pot.

Me: Imagine that.

5

Sunday, January 18th 2004 was a sunny day. Kind of like today.

It’s not the years. It’s the mileage.

Please Don't Feed The Wolverines

ANN ARBOR - Say, have you seen the game of Baskets and Ball? Created to be a great way to keep the young men fit and active during inclement winter months, especially when added to any existing vigorous calisthenics routine, "BasketBall" is fast gaining popularity among spectators in towns big and small (provided they have gymnasiums and field houses featuring ceilings of sufficient height). At the collegiate level, well regimented five-man teams can be a joy to behold with their precision bouncing and passing of the ball and intricate offensive and defensive strategies; giving the enthralled partisans another outlet by which to express their loyalties for each's own alma mater.
It is under this pretext that nationally recognized Duke University sent their budding, Methodist tobacco barons on the train from North Carolina to frigid Ann Arbor town to take on the new, relatively unknown Varsity of the University of Michigan. The ironically nicknamed Blue Devils were expected to mop the hardwood floor with the Wolverines after handing Michigan a sixteen-point defeat when these same two teams met less than two-weeks ago during tournament play in New York City. It should be noted however, that this Michigan "hoops squad" already surprised a then No. 4-ranked UCLA team in that same tournament prior to falling to Duke.
Much to the delight of the rowdy undergraduates and co-educationals in attendance, Michigan turned the tables on Duke this time around and earned an exciting 81-73 victory, sending the Devils home with their tails tucked between their legs clad in blue short pants.
The legendary Duke tactician, coach Mike Krzyzewski, was gracious in defeat acknowledging the raucous crowd as well as Michigan's shooting prowess saying, "Their boys rained the three-point shot on us like so many Jerry bombs over Warsaw during the Blitz." But his embarrassment in losing to an upstart bunch was evident during the waning moments of the game by the look of incredulous disbelief on the immigrant Pole's sweaty, reddened face.
At the final buzzer hundreds of students descended in jubilation to the playing court, chanting in unison, "It's great to be a Michigan Wolverine!"
Indeed.

Michigan sophomore Harris completes a dunk shot

Primo Trim

Sixty days of  bed rest came and went and I was left with a gargantuan scar on my backside and a ferocious Tom Hanks in Castaway beard.  Beards and moustaches are not my normal facial hair cup of tea and in the real world it isn't really possible to take the time to grow the kind of beard I was left with because this isn't the 1860s and I'm not repelling Pickett's Charge, but more importantly, in this day and age it is socially unacceptable to venture out into public looking like I did.  Yet, friends insisted that I keep it because, well, they are friends and they can revel in the hilarity of an awful beard without having to live with it on their faces.  Furthermore it was No Shave November and I had put all this time and effort into growing it, so I figured I would let the beard ride with some appropriate grooming.

Unfortunately, the rechargeable hair trimmer I already owned died on me before I went on bed rest so I needed to purchase a suitable replacement to attempt the task at hand.

After too much deliberation on Amazon.com I settled on the Wahl cordless beard and moustache trimmer.  I wanted something small, but mostly I wanted it too be inexpensive and that is what I ended up with.  Much to my amusement the Wahl Trimmer Corporation includes in their operating and trimmer care instructions a section about how to grow a beard.  I was surprised the section did not read:

1. Be a man's man.

2. Wait.

Instead, here is what I learned.

GROWING A BEARD

There a three key factors that will determine which beard style is best for you:

1. The shape and dimensions of your face.

2. The natural growth of your beard.

3. The thickness of your beard.  If you are unsure about the type of beard that would most suit your face, speak with a professional hairstylist.

Now I know.