I just read a forum post from someone who was apologizing for their website being down (paid membership site). Apparently some data center in Houston had something go wrong and a huge portion of their equipment went dead. There was a fire, or an explosion, or something happened. I remember reading about it in the news on the web a couple of days ago but I don't remember the details.

Anyway, someone responded to this post and said, thanks for the heads up. Don't worry about it and luckily no one was hurt.

Is it just me or is that another one of these empty platitudes that don't mean anything? Of course is lucky, and a relief, that no one was hurt. However, on a personal level, does the fact that no one was hurt really mean anything to us? To the family and friends of someone that works at that data center, the fact that no one was hurt means something significant. The person they know could have been hurt, but wasn't. But to me, Joe Webuser, living thousands of miles away, do I really care that no one was hurt?

Obviously, as a moral human being, I never wish harm to come to another person. But for me to say, luckily no one was hurt, shouldn't it actually have a meaning for me? Else, aren't I just mouthing empty words with no sentiment behind it? If no one is hurt, then I can't connect with the tragedy on any kind of level. Its not that much different than a demolition that goes off safely. Building is damaged, life goes on. However, if someone IS hurt, then I can connect with the occurence on a human level because another person has been injured or killed, and while I don't know the victim personally, I can personalize it by thinking, what if that happened to my friend?

Luckily no one was hurt gets said a lot it seems. But I suspect that its just words without sentiment. Wouldn't a response on a forum feel more genuine if someone actually had been injured?

I pull up to the drive-thru speaker at KFC/Taco Bell in Winnipeg tonight. I'm hot, tired and hungry like balls. All I want is something hot to eat, and something ice cold to drink, before I pass out like a stone on a crummy hotel bed.

Before I can think of anything pithy to say into the faceless automoton that is a drive-thru speaker, a perky young girl's voice chirps out at me.

'If you are here for chicken from KFC' (ever so slight pause for dramatic effect) 'we are out of chicken'

I was floored. Quite honestly floored. I came to a KFC/Taco Bell and the first thing they tell me is, they are out of chicken. Out of chicken!?! How does a chicken joint run out of chicken? You'd think the very first thing you do at the start of the KFC day is, ask yourself, do I have 16 tons of chicken on hand. I mean, its not like you can look at the menu board and say, I really don't think anyone will order chicken today.

So what's the deal with the way people set to hit in slo-pitch? You'd think we were 7 million dollar a year outfielders for the Chicago Cubs. I'm sitting on the bench and I'm watching our opponents toe into the batter's box like Barry Bonds on a steroid bender.

Exactly what do these people think they are accomplishing when they grind into the dirt like that? Its the first inning and the diamond is groomed, and nice looking. Unlike what has become our usual field, this one we were on tonight looks unspoiled and flat. Then Joe Slo-Pitch digs into the batter's box and suddenly the shale is flying like we're on a mine site. I watch in horror as this (as it turns out) weak hitter, digs into the batter's box like he's strip mining for coal. I hope he found some because that tepid grounder he hit to third base isn't gonna win him any guaranteed contracts with the Cardinals.

By the time I get to hit in the third inning, the hole on the right side of the home plate is yawning open like a crater after a meteor strike. It dismays me that in three short innings, we've taken a well groomed batter's box, and turned into an ecological disaster typically reserved for strip mines of the 1950's. I go up to bat and the strike zone is the ground to my shoulders, because of the hole my knees are flush with the plate.

Why can't we all just go up there, step into the box, and take a cut at the ball? No one is going to the major's from the D League of Saskatoon slo-pitch.