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The image you see here of the man with the ample forehead is me taking a brief respite from  my irremediably sedentary life.  I actually engaged in some competitive physical activity that day, albeit rather haplessly.  But, I did learn a very valuable lesson in human physiology that day:  Exercise is bad for you.

Any doctor will tell you that pain is the human body's way of telling you that you're doing something wrong and that you should stop.  Unfortunately, the human body isn't always timely with its warnings.  In my case, the message didn't arrive until the day after my extended session of wild flailing and leaping about on a patch of sand for no other reason than to keep a leather ball from touching the ground.

The resulting agony that came as a consequence of my foolish flirtation with biokinetics was enough to send me on a heroin binge, which in turn led me on a multi-state crime spree with an untold toll in human life and property damage.  If I contribute nothing else to the world in creating this page, I will be ultimately satisfied in knowing that I prevented at least one child from venturing away from his game console and into the peril-fraught lunacy of so-called physical fitness.
Having learned the hard way that grueling physical effort is one-way ticket to suffering and perdition, I resolved to make sloth my life's calling.  And there's nothing quite like cold beer to reinforce the splendor of inertia. 
I can generally be found wallowing in glorious indolence at a little barbecue restaurant called Backwoods, in Paducah, KY.  While beer is obviously the featured attraction, I would be remiss if I didn't extol the virtues of their signature wares -- pork ribs.  They're falling-off-the bone tender and much healthier than exercise.

But, the most important feature of this fine little establishment is the people who choose to frequent it.  A more welcoming, entertaining pack of rogues, rapscallions and knaves you won't find this side of a Mel Brooks film.

However, if you go there, don't tell them Walt sent you.  The owners usually tack on a premium for that.  They claim it's an effort to recoup the losses they've incurred over the years as a result of my lawlessness.  I think it's more likely their way of taking advantage of the fact that I tend to mingle with drunkards who don't bother to examine the bill at the end of the night. 

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