Coming October 2022: "The Last Folk Hero: The Life and Myth of Bo Jackson"

Uh, oh.

Today I’m feeling very, uh, Hypochondriacal. Om my right hand, my thumb has been twitching every 45 minutes or so, which—in my world—means I have six minutes to live and am surely dying of some horrible disease. Now, as a Hypo I was often able to pooh-pooh suck concerns by thinking, “Well, I am a hypo, so what are the odds I’m actually ill?” Then, unfortunately, I was introduced to the great Nirvana song, “Territorial Pissings,” which includes the line, “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not after you.” It also works for crazy people like myself—”Just because you’re a hypochondriac, doesn’t mean you don’t have ALS.” (feel free to sing along).

Speaking of pissings, of late I’ve been engaged in a little Facebook war with a certain former Major League baseball player who—despite being an all-around nice guy—doesn’t think global warming exists. This was very disappointing to me, because I considered the guy to be significantly more intelligent than the average boob-chasing, autograph-signing, Will Ferrell-loving ballplayer. But at this point, in the year 2008, believing global warming to be a hoax is no different than thinking cigarettes are not a health risk. It’s just plain stupid.