Let's Do It.

It feels a little flip to continue the Cole Porter theme in a post about John Farrell's cancer diagnosis. But you know what? It's not whistling past the graveyard. Cancer doesn't deserve the respect that cowering in the corner would imply. If it's a matter of giddy-up, of muscling your way through, then there's little doubt in my mind that John Farrell will allow cancer to win. So let's do it, Mr. Farrell, let's kick its ass.

In all honesty, I've started and erased this post a couple of times. I struggled with the title. I struggled with the last line of the first paragraph--it's so presumptuous: I've got nothing to do with his recovery. I struggled with the content--how do you marry a silly, frivolous blog like this [Aside: Someone once described this blog as fluff and I was highly-offended but it's true.] with something with the dun-dun-duun quality of a cancer diagnosis? It's the sort of indecision that is usually reserved for the Jimmy Fund telethon.

And the truth is sometimes it's important to remember that this is a silly game, that I devote too much time and energy to, and that there are more important things in life.

So, best of health to John and a quick and complete recovery.