The Bloody Doors Off

Only as a teenager, he gets called Rudy a lot.

And it’s set in the 1940s.

And he battles Nazis and …

Writes about it.

Hey, my one-time sketch troupe performed “Leave It To Nostradamus” about a precocious little psychic living in middle America in the 1950s.

So it could happen.

Sorry, had to get that out of my head. It’s been stuck in there for hours.

It’s epiphany day in the ol’ brain.

I’ve come to conclusion that I’m going to retire.

Not work.

I’ll never be able to retire from that.

No, I’m talking about an extracurricular that I’ve been involved in for well over a decade.

Like improv, it’s passed me by.

And it’s time to let it go.

Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy it.

But as a hobby, at most.

Certainly not dedicating myself to the craft.

I dunno if it’s a young person’s game. Given some of the friends I’ve made, and their median age, I would say probably not. But I feel too old for it.

Too tired to take it seriously.

I will probably dip my toe in the water occasionally.

See if it’s warm enough to take a dip.

But I’m not gonna be cannonballing off the deep end.