But my date with dermatological destiny was foretold by my ancestry and my age (that is, the age I grew up in). As a half-Irish, half-Norwegian, part-Scot, I’ve got as much skin pigment as the next ghost. Among my people, sun lamps are also known as “lamps.” I once got a nasty burn leafing through a National Geographic magazine. I remember a long two-hour drive home from Virginia Beach, car air conditioner blowing full power on my blistering face, as my parents maundered in a sing-songy Scandinavian brogue, “It’s our lot, boy! Best suffer it like the little blonde leprechaun you are.”
Read MoreA lot of people turn 60 and start thinking about death. To them, I say: Been there, done that, got the hospital gown. Thanks to OCD, I’ve spent a good chunk of my life not being able to NOT think about my mortality. But now, I’m trying to think about death more, but in a good way. Sounds weird, doesn’t it?
Read MoreIT’S ALMOST LIKE WAZE KNOWS EXACTLY THE DECISIONS I’LL MAKE THAT WILL BRING ME TO MY DESTINATION AT EXACTLY THE PREDICTED TIME. [Insert music from Netflix’s Wednesday, and maybe stop shouting.]
Read MoreWe are stuck with each other. We’re like two men tied tightly at the wrist, dropped into the middle of the ocean to swim for their lives. We cannot survive if we both swim in opposite directions all the time - we will exhaust each other and both die. We cannot and will not survive if we beat the crap out of each other. One of us will die and drag the other down with him.
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