Rory, in a fit of East Coast U2-induced despondency, decided to dissect his childhood heroes. My personal favorites:

  • George Lucas, he man responsible for creating my childhood, also destroyed it That’s definitely true. I hate you George Lucas! Go let someone good finish Star Wars! Please, for the love of god, don’t destroy your best creation!

  • Michael Jackson used to be able to dance, but his later life as a scrawny white woman hasn’t turned out as well as it could have True dat. Although he seems to do pretty well when he dresses up as “Janet.” Wait, this just in: they appear to be different people. That’s a creepy thought.

I have one of my own to add to this list. I met Don Box yesterday for the first time while basking in the sun and enjoying a Full Sail Amber (ahh, the joys of ostentatious PacNW microbrews are many). I was horribly upset to discover that:

  1. Don does not have a photographic memory.
  2. Don is incapable of shaking my hand while carrying several large objects (he had to shuffle the laptop around in order to accomplish this task).

All was not lost by this discovery of Don’s imperfections. He also:

  1. Has a good, firm handshake.
  2. Actually pulls off the facial hair thing without looking creepy.
  3. Is perfectly willing to take 30 seconds out of his busy, Friday afternoon, jet-set lifestyle Architect job to chat with a front-line PM.

I salute you, Don Box; you rock!