Forums Get-Together at LC Nationals?

I would not be good company on Sat PM(unless your idea of a good time is watching a 60 year old man obsess.) Actually, Allen, at 56 (FINA 57), I am quite sure I would enjoy watching a psychiatrically trained master of obsessionality practice the art. I am similarly quite sure I would be able to pick up some valuable pointers for my own obsessionality, which has been lackluster at best. Well, now that I think about it a little, maybe I am not quite sure after all. But very, very sure--up to 99.9999 percent sure! But putting it that way, it's not really very reassuring, is it? I mean, if something has a 1 in ten thousand chance of not coming true, it's not like you can totally relax, close your eyes, and expect to open them up sooner or later with the reward you are hoping for in the bag! I mean it might be in the bag. 9,999 times out of 10,000 it will be in the bag. But that certainly doesn't guarantee the bag won't be empty, a yawning pit of discouragement, misery, and yet another false hope proven again to the aspirer's detriment and broken dreams and... Or, to put it in slightly more concrete terms, who among us would take a revolver with 10,000 empty chambers--or 100,000 chambers, or a million--and into one of these insert a single Teflon-coated skull-buster bullet, snap the revolving cylinder into place, stick the snub nose against our own temple--or, if you do not prefer, the temple of a loved one!--and confidently pull the trigger, no cold sweat trickling down, no zero at the bone? None of us, that is who! Not a single one. Well maybe a sociopath. Maybe a Mr. Negative. But not very, very many. Oh, why must life be so riddled with uncertainty? Why is there nothing you can hang your hat on, nothing you can be absolutely sure will keep your hat off the ground, not just probably off the floor, or potentially off the floor. Assuming the floor itself does not disappear into an earthquake's yawning chasm! And don't get me started on Allen's breaststroke turns at Nationals. If there is anything less certain in life than a smooth and streamlined breaststroke pushoff from the slippery walls of Indianapolis, I am pretty sure I do not know what it is. No! Of this, I am absolutely certain. I absolutely sure that nothing comes close to the uncertainty of breaststroke turns in Indiana, especially when one is not used to the time zone there. I am pretty sure of it.

I would not be good company on Sat PM(unless your idea of a good time is watching a 60 year old man obsess.) Actually, Allen, at 56 (FINA 57), I am quite sure I would enjoy watching a psychiatrically trained master of obsessionality practice the art. I am similarly quite sure I would be able to pick up some valuable pointers for my own obsessionality, which has been lackluster at best. Well, now that I think about it a little, maybe I am not quite sure after all. But very, very sure--up to 99.9999 percent sure! But putting it that way, it's not really very reassuring, is it? I mean, if something has a 1 in ten thousand chance of not coming true, it's not like you can totally relax, close your eyes, and expect to open them up sooner or later with the reward you are hoping for in the bag! I mean it might be in the bag. 9,999 times out of 10,000 it will be in the bag. But that certainly doesn't guarantee the bag won't be empty, a yawning pit of discouragement, misery, and yet another false hope proven again to the aspirer's detriment and broken dreams and... Or, to put it in slightly more concrete terms, who among us would take a revolver with 10,000 empty chambers--or 100,000 chambers, or a million--and into one of these insert a single Teflon-coated skull-buster bullet, snap the revolving cylinder into place, stick the snub nose against our own temple--or, if you do not prefer, the temple of a loved one!--and confidently pull the trigger, no cold sweat trickling down, no zero at the bone? None of us, that is who! Not a single one. Well maybe a sociopath. Maybe a Mr. Negative. But not very, very many. Oh, why must life be so riddled with uncertainty? Why is there nothing you can hang your hat on, nothing you can be absolutely sure will keep your hat off the ground, not just probably off the floor, or potentially off the floor. Assuming the floor itself does not disappear into an earthquake's yawning chasm! And don't get me started on Allen's breaststroke turns at Nationals. If there is anything less certain in life than a smooth and streamlined breaststroke pushoff from the slippery walls of Indianapolis, I am pretty sure I do not know what it is. No! Of this, I am absolutely certain. I absolutely sure that nothing comes close to the uncertainty of breaststroke turns in Indiana, especially when one is not used to the time zone there. I am pretty sure of it.