My dad is an eternal optimist, one of those turn-lemons-into-lemonade people. And yeah, it sometimes annoys the living shit out of me.

I am, after all, an in-the-long-run-we're-all-dead type of guy, a devout half-empty man (I'd call myself an eternal pessimist, but I don't believe anything lasts forever :) )

Time for a short self-congratulatory post (For if I don't do it, who will?).

Right before the Fourth of July, I wrote that the price of oil was a bubble waiting to be pricked and nearing a short-term top. In the past three weeks, the price of oil has fallen by about $20 bucks a barrel, or almost 15 percent, a huge move by any standard. In terms of daily closing prices, July 3rd ended up being the exact top.

So last Tuesday Larry King interviews Barack Obama and then three days later, he does a show debating the existence of UFOs. It's fucking nutty. (King, who i just found out has done these shows for years, apparently wants to be the first broadcaster to interview an alien).

My mom's mom was far from the best person in the world (This is not the grandmother I discussed a couple weeks ago). She held grudges and often spoke ill of others, including family. She was racist. She belittled and insulted my grandfather, only becoming the dutiful, loving wife after he had a massive stroke and lacked the capacity to resist her will.

So as I see it, in this world, you are either a producer or a consumer.

Obviously, everyone does both to a certain extent, just as everyone is probably a little gay, but in the end, you lean mostly one way or the other. You're either adding to society or taking from it (and having children doesn't count cuz you're just as likely to raise a bunch of consuming monsters as you are the next Leonardo da Vinci).

So the other day I was talking to a softball teammate who's about to get married, and we were discussing why more and more people in their 30s and 40s - at least in New York - seem okay with the prospect of staying single. I know that many of these older bachelors and bachelorettes want children and I'd have to think that few of them relish the prospect of aging without a constant, dependable companion and lover. Yet they can't seem to find the one worth taking the ultimate plunge.

As a native St. Louisan who always feels some sort of odd civic pride whenever those clever beer commercials end with a dude intoning 'Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri,' I know I'm supposed to be upset about the recent acquisition by Belgium-based InBev. Yet I can't muster any passion over the loss of the historic brewer and one of my hometown's few remaining independent corporate behemoths (TWA, McDonnell Douglass, Ralston Purina all bit the dust long ago).

Ah, Mondays. Always such an unpleasant beast, a day only meant for enduring and muddling through in the best of circumstances, but sometimes gearing up for the workweek feels particularly difficult. I've just finished a relaxing weekend and I'm struggling to find my motivation mojo right now.

My weekend was enjoyably capped yesterday by my adorable three-year-old cousin's birthday party, followed by a few fun sets of tennis with my brother, all done under perfect midsummer weather and in a Riverdale park that brought back memories of my Midwestern suburban upbringing.

So the IPhone is out today and I'm itching to get my hands on one (even though I'd rather stay with T-Mobile, which has awesome customer service, especially when compared to my nightmarish memories of AT&T Wireless). I'm going to wait a bit to get the phone to try and avoid some of the launch madness, but the device certainly has strong potential to end the year as my favorite thing of 2008. In the meantime, I decided to share some of the stuff I'm really enjoying right now, as well as some of the things that are on my nerves.

THINGS I'M LOVING

The Internet is making us lazy, shortening our attention span, dulling our senses.

We still read, but our eyes glaze over anything more than a couple of paragraphs (140 words or less please).

We still listen to music, but now download a single onto our IPod one day and forget about it the next (how quaint the concept album now seems).

We still have friends, but now often substitute brief, vacuous messages or a 'Second Life' for physical contact and real intimacy.

(Continued from Part 1)

... I told my dad after my grandmother died that I believe we will one day in the not-too-distant future view the way we currently handle death and dying as barbaric. Tip-toeing around the subject - by removing machines or using copious amounts of morphine as a way to hasten death - seemed quite silly to me when the issue was as important as watching a loved one suffer unnecessarily.

95-plus years old, maybe 58 inches tall, maybe 80 pounds big. A colon that had stopped working. A silenced voice that could no longer tell her gathered family she loved them. Lips that were dried and cracked. A sunken face grimacing with each wheezing, irregular, hard-earned breath.

This is the opponent Death chose to take on in February 2007. But if He expected a quick battle, then He hadn't been paying attention.

OK, I know nothing about the oil market, but considering I distinctly remembering the then-CEO of Exxon-Mobil saying on CNBC that oil was way overpriced based on the fundamentals some 2-plus years and $100/barrel ago, I don't see why my lack of knowledge on the subject should keep me from commenting.

OK, I'm determined to try out this 'very short' blog post thing, so I want to wish everyone (which according to my blog stats means basically no one except for my girlfriend ... hi babyyy!!) a Happy Fourth!

i remember when I was a teenager reading and quite enjoying 'Life's Little Instruction Book', a short guide full of pithy sayings and reminders on the best way to live a meaningful and happy life.

I am a dead man.

Not in the literal sense, of course. My flesh is warm and my blood is pumping. And not, as far as i know, in the imminent sense either. I'm sure I've somehow jinxed myself by registering this domain name and starting this blog, but I am only in my mid-thirties, and as an American white male should thus reasonably expect to live at least another forty or so years.