Went to Wikipedia for "unrequited love" and found my picture. This Rodney Dangerfield material is a drag. I should be out writing my true love's name with sparklers on a beach.
The photographic image of Y.A. Tittle on his knees with the helmet in his hands and blood running down his face breaks my heart. It always did.
Only the strong survive. I just heard an old interview with Pete Seeger on the radio where he explained the concept in biblical and biological terms. We're all the product of the "good killers," Pete claimed. Of course we are. Those are the genes that get passed along.
Somehow I seem to have self- destructed in a most predictable pattern on a regular basis in order to stay out of the "good killer" club. I know that it looks like self- righteous posturing from outside my head and my heart. We all muddle through.