Thursday, October 28, 2004

Boogers, Weasels, Going...Going...Gone

There's a man I love to wake up with, particularly on Sunday mornings. He does things to me that no one else can. And now he's leaving me.

NOW who's gonna make me spurt my morning coffee out my nostrils?

Dave Barry is a longtime journalist, author, and Pulitzer Prize winning humor columnist who has made me shake so hard with laughter that on many occasions I have been certain my muscles woud fall right off my bones. I have, indeed, peed my pants laughing so fervently at Dave's observations of life. In times when I have been ready to crawl under a pile of clean, folded, but not-yet-put-away laundry, where nobody would ever find me, Dave coaxed me out to face the day and give the ol' life another try.

And now he's leaving me.

Okay, well, he'll still be around, writing books and doing speaking engagements and even checking in occasionally on his blog, but his column space will be startlingly empty. I pity the poor fool who will receive his spot in the Miami Herald. Them's big shoes to fill, Mister. Let's see you consistently use words like "booger" and "weasel" to successfully keep the masses guffawing.

Dave, take a relaxing, well-earned break. But don't enjoy it too much -- I want you back. C'mon, we can make this work out.

If you've been living in some forsaken place (in a cave? On Mars? Elko, Nevada?) and you don't know who Dave Barry is, then pray speed thyself hither, with wings on your feet. Because as of this writing, there's only 63 days left, and counting...


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