A Hancock On The Road Is Worth A Frivolous Suit in the Court

So the father of Josh Hancock -- yes, the very same Josh Hancock who got hammered and drove into the back of a tow truck a few weeks ago, ending his little experiment with living -- is suing various entities as a result of his son's death. (Thanks to Christoff for the link.) He's suing the restaurant where Josh got hammered. He's suing the restaurant manager who was apparently managing Josh getting hammered. Those two seem mildly reasonable, since they may have overserved Josh -- although any lawyer worth his shit knows that the restaurant manager can't be sued individually for actions taken at her job on behalf of her employer. Vicarious liability -- that's first semester Torts. But I digress. The kicker is that Josh's dad is also suing the tow truck company that owned the tow truck Josh plowed into -- because he was hammered. Better yet, his dad is suing the driver of the car that was stalled on I-64 that caused the tow truck to stop -- the same tow truck that Josh Hancock plowed into -- because he was hammered. Guys, I wish I was making this up. Now, I'm no lawyer, but I'm not really sure how, after your son voluntarily drinks himself to being twice the legal limit, then drives at 65 mph into the back of a PARKED tow truck on the interstate, that your son's intoxication and reckless actions were somehow the fault of the guy whose car broke down.

There is speculation that he may add as defendants: the St. Louis Cardinals, since they allowed Josh to be on their team; Dwight D. Eisenhower, for spearheading the national interstate system on which Josh was forced to drive drunk; God, for creating the Earth and, alternatively, the Big Bang, who produced the Milky Way; the ancient Egyptians, for inventing beer; and Abner Doubleday, for being believed to have invented the game that caused Josh to be a member of the Cardinals, thus placing him in proximity to the bar that allowed Josh to pay for drinks; A Flock of Seagulls, for recording the song to which Josh was totally rocking out that caused him to take his hands off the wheel momentarily; a flock of seagulls, for inspiring A Flock of Seagulls to name themselves; and Hitler, because he's a dick.

Runnin' With the Devil
So last night I "ran" in the JP Morgan/Chase Corporate Challenge, which is a 3.5 mile race around Grant Park, in which nearly 23,000 corporate workers from the Chicagoland area compete. It was my first competitive race since I smoked Ari in the now-legendary barefoot sprint down Halsted and Diversey in September 2005. The JPMCCC was mildly frustrating, since when the starting horn sounds, you essentially walk for 5 minutes before you get to the start line, but the clock has started nonetheless (it's not one of those fancy races where you get a chip to calculate when you cross the start and finish line). The first mile and a half is essentially slow jogging, mixed in with random bursts of running when spaces clear. Not that I'm a distance runner by any means, but it was kind of annoying, since all of the "walkers" were supposed to have started in the back, so as not to get in the runners' way, but I was passing walkers for the entire race. Finally after the 2-mile mark it started to space out a little bit, such that I could actually run the rest of the way, capped by a literally blinding sprint to the finish. What's sad is that the 2:50 it took me to run the last half-mile (during which I blinded myself) was slower than the overall pace run by the women's winner (although slightly faster than the pace of the second-place woman, so I got that going for me). The race made me realize that running 3.5 miles on a treadmill in air conditioning is much different than in 80+ degrees with 80+% humidity. I am definitely not in outdoor-running shape. I slept like Josh Hancock last night.