He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him
Had traveled about
His dog up and died, he up and died,
after twenty years he still grieves

--Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, "Mr. Bojangles"

I was driving home the other day, flipping through the radio stations, and came across that song. The version of it I'm most familiar with is Neil Diamond's. Neil is a sort of guilty pleasure of mine... I listened to a lot of his music growing up, and still have a few of his alblums.

Anyway, I listened to the song, and I thought about Buster. I wonder if, after twenty years, I'll still be missing the stupid black and white mutt?

Probably.

I was flipping through some web pages earlier today, and came across an advert for a match-making service. Yentas R Us or something. They had a personality test that they wanted you to do, so that they could match you up with optimal matches.

So I took it, and looked at the matches they came up with, and then looked at how much they want to let you actually communicate with the matches they came up with. $50. Shut down the page.

You can't know, can you? I mean... the last time I paid money to a yenta site, I ended up exchanging emails with a woman, only to find out that she was a ditz. Fifteen bucks, one date, out.

Fifteen bucks isn't too much to pay for meeting Ms. Wrong, I guess. But fifty bucks... fifty bucks is a lot of money to me, right now.

If I could be sure, no, I guess it wouldn't be too much, but you can't be sure.

I dunno. Maybe I really ought to give up and just be a hermit.