A cold one

After reading this story in ESPN, I'm a bit perturbed at what passes as "journalism" these days. Perry was an icon, a behemoth force to be reckoned with in the glory days of a juggernaut Chicago Bears defense. Surely, he is undeserving of the tale of woe presented for public consumption by ESPN.

Addiction is a malady no less deserving of privacy than that which we allot the AIDS or cancer sufferer. The media, unfortunately, believe that Perry, as a public figure, has forfeited certain rights for the fame he experienced in pro-football over 2 decades ago. Of course, let's not lay the blame entirely upon the shoulders of the media. WE are equally complicit in this crime against common decency. Our desire to consume, and to do so without boundaries and respect for privacy, creates an audience for ESPN to peddle gossip. After all, ESPN is merely reacting to our needs, and our needs are often woefully devoid of dignity.

Undoubtedly, supporters of such an article will employ the "if just one life is saved by reading this" defense. Shouldn't permission to disclose personal information that might lead to the saving of a life still lie with the article's subject? This article doesn't read like Perry consented at all. And that's a shame.

Perry's addiction should be addressed. There can be no doubt about that. It should, however, be on his and his family's terms, not for the purpose of satiating our morbid curiosity.

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I love the stability that comes with having a full-time job. While I've definitely reaped the benefits of unemployment--4 times in 10 years--I'm hardly enamored by the prospect of sitting around and doing absolutely nothing. I heard all kids of stories about unemployment: it was a blessing, vacation, or even a war cry to the dormant, creative self. Whatever it is and means to others, I just don't like it. Keep your $405 a week, New York State.

Having just gotten married, and expecting a child in just a couple of months, money has become this frightening thing I know I can no longer be without. What scares me most is that I, along with Haley, am going to have to unlearn decades of poor spending habits. Much of my "brokeassness" is rooted in a compulsion to eat out all of the time: Who can resist the urge to forego a sweltering session in the kitchen when modestly compensated individuals will do the grunt work for you, all for a nominal fee? And this is why I have no money.

No excuses once the baby comes. Unless we want to invite the wrath of Child Service, we'll not be spending my entire paycheck on wasteful and frivolous things. God, who is writing this blog? Today me should send a memo to 2002 me and get that dude to put away some money.

Speaking of the baby, I find it quite amazing that Gerber Insurance's relentless mail campaign to enroll my child in their fabulous plan might actually come in useful. As a soon-to-be-expecting coworker told me last week, "There's no way that I ever thought at 30 that I would have a child at 40." I've got him beat by about 10 years on that sentiment. I am, however, quickly moving past the "shock and awe" phase of the pregnancy. To dwell any further on what "might have been" if "only I did this" serves to do nothing more than cheapen what has been an incredible journey of growth. I'll take the sleepless nights, dirty diapers, tears, colic, and health insurance with zero reservations.