No doubt you’re as saddened by the news that Gilligan Gregory has been shitcanned from Press the Meat as I am. Sad, mostly because they replaced him with Chuck Toad. But I guess when you have to clear your selection through John McCain and Li’l Lindsey Graham as well as the Comcast Board of Directors, you’re choices are somewhat limited. Me? I’d have gone with Luke “Timmy Jr” Russert.

Hey, did you hear the shocking news from Ferguson? If you don’t treat police work (which once upon a time was defined as “to serve and protect”) like a full-on military assault, people will protest peacefully even after you continue to kill their unarmed kids.

Who knew?

Why cops in an urban setting wear jungle camo is beyond me. I guess ‘cuz it looks cool or something. Perhaps they should just go ahead and join the Army if that’s what they’re after.

So, like most people facing a day of work, I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how long it’ll be before I die. Our HR department just sent out an e-mail detailing “the importance of accumulated sick leave credits.” Among other things, you can use up to 200 days of credit when you retire to pay for (or at least supplement) your share of retiree health insurance premiums.

Basically, they take the dollar value of your remaining sick days and divide it by the number of months they figure you’ve got left to live when you retire and then that’s the monthly credit you get off your insurance.

So the goal is to retire with 200 days of sick leave (and not one damn minute more). According to the retirement system, if I retire at 62, I’ll have a life expectancy of 269 months – meaning I’ll be dead when I’m about 84-85 years old. As I review the impressive pulchritude that is my physique and combine that with the knowledge that my dad only made it to 74 and longevity doesn’t exactly run on either side of my family, I’m thinking 269 months is a bit optimistic.

Still, assuming the Republicans don’t completely nuke Medicare and Social Security in the next 10 years or so, I at least shouldn’t have to worry about health insurance as I move forward on the journey toward my ultimate demise, no matter when it happens.

Assuming it’s not going to happen today, though, I reckon I’d better get back to doing some work. TGIF.