A Message

I'm addicted to sports. I actually checked ESPN.com at the end of that last sentence. Before I'm done with this blog entry I am sure I will have been to ESPN.com again, or if I'm down to the articles on skiing and track and field, maybe I'll have checked into SI.com. My addiction is so severe that I actually listen to sports-talk radio. In my defence, I didn't really start listening until after my radio stopped picking up any FM stations. But now, even if I could get NPR, I'm not certain I'd go with it.

Lately, though, I've been feeling guilty about listening to sports-talk radio. Usually when I am in the car, so is Dipity. I always start out singing to her, or asking her questions. I always end up listening to the radio. Now, it's not as if I pretend she's not in the car. I still engage her, and she does have about forty pounds of stuffed animals and books scattered about the car. But, I do force her to listen to some rather obnoxious and rather low-brow sports-radio personalities. I have been feeling more and more guilty about this, but had been unable to stop. And then I received some help.

Last week when I flipped on the radio to hear some talk about the playoffs, I got a breakdown of Revelations. My knuckle dragging sports radio had been replaced by fundamentalist Christian mumbo jumbo. At first I thought it was a joke. But, a week later it's no longer funny. I finally brought new CDs out to the car. My other choices included Spanish radio, republican mumbo jumbo, or static. If I didn't have a CD player I'd have gone with static. If I was more superstitious, or religious, I would have a hard time not thinking this was a sign from God. I think it's more likely a sign from Dr. Sears, although I don't believe in him either. I could say more, but I haven't checked the NBA scores yet.