I’m feeling really lazy. Y’ain’t getting nothing.


My 15″ General Ursus action figure fell to the ground this afternoon. He sits regally on my right external computer speaker holding in his stinking paws my encased 1973 Mike Schmidt rookie card (also features Ron Cey! and some nerd named John Hilton!) and my 1964 Pete Rose second-year card, the latter being the one my brother bought me this Christmas, approximately two decades after one of the worst travesties of my youth, when I went home sick from a card show at which we were selling our collections. In my absence, my dad, misreading the sticker price on my original 1964 Rose card, sold it for $15, even though just a few weeks earlier the card had been purchased—either by him or by one of his lackeys on his behalf—for $16. When Ursus fell from his perch, it set off an unfortunate chain reaction: the cards fell, my framed “no flipping” Larry Sanders postcard fell, even Ursus’s damn plastic helmet came off, which I have to say left his ape-hair in some disarray. Everything emerged unscathed from this pop-culture avalanche, but I doubt I’ll ever recover.