Here I sit in the nation of my birth. There’s lots of depressing things I could say about that particular status but I’ll try to be upbeat instead. I’ve got a good, cushy life. I’m about halfway through it. I have a grown child and a wife and two cats. I work from home. The Kings won the Stanley Cup. I’m not gonna argue with good fortune, though I have a feeling there’s some comet with my name on it, the longer I go without being smeared across the landscape. Call it a natural fatalism.

Seriously, how did the Kings pull that shit off? I was just waiting, waiting for that big, stinking, evil shoe to drop, like it has for the 20+ years I’ve been rooting for this team (leaving aside the insanity of rooting for a professional sports team, of course. DO NOT LOOK TOO CLOSELY AT IT). They came into the league in ’67, came within three wins of it with the greatest player ever to lace up skates in ’93, and then just ramburglared the entire NHL this year. They walked through teams. It was embarrassing. Afterwards it was almost awkward to think how nervous I’d been that they’d lose, somehow. It wasn’t even close. It was LeBron James scrimmaging with two year olds. I just hope they can do it again next season.

Anyway, that’s that.