Dateline: July 27, 2015

Hello, loyal Winstonians! My drunken summer vacation dried up like a Palm Springs housewife recently, and, boy, did I have a time. After my vacation breakfast of four Ojai oranges and a pint glass of Mezcal, it was time to head home, which meant getting to the airport, and neither me nor my two hired handjobbers were in any state to drive. One recommended taking one of these newfangled sharing economy car services you hire on your phone, and I was in no state to disagree!

Turns out my driver had both vertigo and severe myopia, but since he gets neither health insurance nor a living wage, they were both quite untreated. It took us 300 miles to get three blocks away, at which point I was sober enough to figure out I should just get a regular damn taxi. That driver was quite nice, but as it turns out, he was dealing with Multiple Sclerosis, which was starting to be a burden despite his union health insurance.

MS ain’t no walk in the park, let me tell you. It gets between your brain and your body quite randomly, and like your Mother-in-law, it’s not going to leave just because it’s made you miserable. Treatments and therapy can help slow things down and keep life livable, but that takes money.

I heard about a guy raising some money for it and sent him a supportive text–due to the regulations put upon me by the Greedy Sportswriters Union, I can’t actually use my largesse to do good in the world–but I thought maybe you, my loyal readers, could pitch in and make a difference. So I want you to dig deep, like a circus clown reaching into his big, goofy clown pant pockets to find a condom while the kid’s corpse is still warm, and give what you can. Hell, together we might be able to get this guy over $1,000, which would be noble and fantastic. If you do that, maybe I’ll bring back my old advice column, The BudBag, and teach you all something once again. I’ve been around this block a while, and know a thing or two about a thing or two.

Until next time, fair readers! Give here.