Sad to hear that the Professor – Russell Johnson – finally made it off the island at age 89. But he did outlive Gilligan. The Skipper, too. The millionaire and his wife…. I only wish I knew how he was able to recharge batteries with coconuts. As if that wasn’t enough sad teevee news for one day, Dave Madden (who those of us of a certain age will remember as the beleaguered ‘Partridge Family’ agent Reuben Kincaid) also died yesterday at the age of 82.

All the famous (and semi-famous) people from my youth are croaking – it’s rather depressing. I watched my folks go through it, of course. They’d read the paper and say, so and so (who I’d never heard of) had died, and I wouldn’t think much about it. Then people like Jack Benny started passing away, and of course I knew who they were but they were what I considered “old” at the time so it did really phase me all that much. And some of these old timers – like Bob Hope – actually outlived my parents. But now it’s happening to me, and it kinda sucks.

I was listening to some podcast or other on the way home from work last night, and somebody mentioned an author who would go on “Johnny Carson” and I thought to myself, how many kids these days have no idea who Johnny Carson was? His last Tonight Show was in 1992. That means there are millions of people out there old enough to drink, drive (though hopefully not at the same time; I always say, “don’t drink and drive. Drink first, then drive”), and join the army who weren’t even born when Johnny was on the air (that’s assuming I did the math right – I’m sure my wife will be along to check it for me shortly).

The big excitement at work yesterday was that the “Picture Day” date is set. Every year they come around and take pictures for the “Hospital Week” newsletter to show how much they appreciate us (in lieu of, like pay raises or bonuses or anything meaningful), and then that week they get some upper mucky-muck to get out of bed early to hand out some lame trifle as you arrive for work that morning (not that they get up early enough to beat me into the office – buncha slackers). Last year it was a friggin’ ID card lanyard, and past “prizes” have included the world’s shittiest reusable grocery sack and a plastic coffee mug that said “go green” or something on it. Personally, I think they should save the money and give me a nickel bonus in my pay.

But picture day is set for February 20th, and we’re all agog. Well, except for me. I rather a-agog (gogless?). I have never participated, and don’t really see the point. Nobody wants to look at a picture of me (even lost in a group) and I already know what I look like (hell, I spend a lot of time trying to forget what I look like – why would I want a permanent reminder?).

Well, it’s Friday. Always a good thing, of course, but it’s even better in that there’s a three-day weekend coming up (for me, anyway, and hopefully for you all, too), and with Fri/Tue being work at home days, I don’t have to leave the house (other than for a beer run. Or two) until Wednesday morning. Even better, it’s the return of Bill Maher tonight (though he’s got Mary Matalin and her kewpie doll husband on tonight. Carville can be kinda funny – though I find him hard to look at; he’s kinda creepy – but I could never stand her). But there’s Glenn Greenwald, too, so hopefully he’ll balance her out.

Well, it appears that I need to either get some coffee going or go back to bed. Let’s get this week over already.