In 1885, President Grant was dying of throat cancer but somehow found the motivation to write his two volume memoirs. By way of contrast, in 2012 I’ve got a head cold and can’t seem to find the motivation to write more than a half dozen lines at a time. Maybe it’s a generational difference in work ethic or possibly I’d have a lot more to say if my body were trying to destroy me from the inside. Either way, I don’t have nothin’ to say about nothin’ tonight. Sometimes that’s for the best.