Is This the So-Called Howling Fantods?

Since my review of Exit through the Wound, I’ve gotten an influx of Brits coming to the site to read my review of it. They probably aren’t going to read the rest of my writing which is fine. I never intend for anyone to read any of this, so when I do get readers it’s a surprise.

But on the off chance some of them might like the way I string these words around, I thank you.

It’s been a horrible several days. Like I wrote in my last post, I was pretty much sheltered from all the 9/11 memorials that were televised from a hockey event I was covering. I was relieved to miss the pissing contest from politicians and corporations (i.e. I’m more poignant than this other guy so give me your money!) You can say that it was a highlight.

Last night there was a debate amongst Republican presidential candidates that was televised somewhere. One of the great things about covering sports is that I can shield myself against these sorts of things. Sometimes.

Going through my Twitter feed, several of the people I follow kept everyone abreast of the proceedings. I was hesitant to close my Tweetdeck window since being at a Dodger game I might have to tweet if something happened or if someone I followed had a question or what not.

As much as I tried to avoid it, there those tweets were telling me the audience cheered when these candidates agreed that a 30-year old man should be left to die if he is uninsured.

I really do try to stay away from politics. I hate it. I know I can’t change to world to fit my world view. I know I will never live in a world that I comfortable in. I only hope to live in a place where I could, you know, live.

But that question hit home. I’m a 32-year old man who is uninsured. So if a drunk driver were to swerve into me as I’m walking to cover a hockey game at STAPLES Center, they want me dead. And seeing as how they are all anti-taxes and anti-government, they will probably defund the department that should scrape up my rotting carcass in the middle of the street.

So I’ll probably lie there on 11th street in Downtown Los Angeles, my laptop probably already pilfered, my broken ribs sticking through the mile-thick layer of fat on my body, my feet pointing behind my neck as birds, cats and other scavengers pick off my body for protein and other nutrients they require.

So this is a call for help. Depending on how the next year or so goes, I might want to jump ship. Where should I go that has a bit of humanity. I don’t require a utopia or anything. Just a place where I can live and not be bothered too much with any impending doom. Oh, and since I’ll probably want to keep writing about sports, they’ll need to have some sports teams and good media outlets. My areas of expertise are baseball and hockey, but I’ve done tennis and soccer (football) before.