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It is 3:16 in the morning now, and my plane for Honolulu departs at 8:45 a.m. Or at least that is what my virtual First Class tickets tell me: Come Fly With Us&
Flying to the Honolulu Marathon has always been a vaguely morbid experience, even for professional sportswriters who get paid for it. The trip itself is seven hours across open water, in a cramped tin airplane with 300 frightened strangers who stare down helplessly at the white-caps of the endless deep-blue Pacific Ocean.
December is an ugly month for getting involved in public travel. It is a desperate season for most people, but not for me this year, because I am turning into a Body Nazi, and I feel pretty good about it. Ho ho ho. Yes sir. Nothing can hurt me for at least 30 days, and by then I will be twice as strong and crazy as I am now.
It happens every year, one way or another, and every year it gets weirder. And wilder and darker and more intense.
Which is pretty damn crazy, on some days, but that is only gossip. "Crazy" is a term of art: "Insane" is a term of Law. Remember that, and you will save yourself a lot of trouble.
The Marquis De Sade was born crazy and he did monumentally crazy things every day of his utterly degenerate life& But he was only insane when he got locked up in jail.
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| With the snow falling near his Aspen compound, the beaches of Honolulu are calling the Good Doctor. |