Many birthdays and deathdays and such to report upon.

First of all, happy birthday to Jackson Pollock today. Did you know he was from Wyoming? Huh. More on that later.

Also happy birthday yesterday to Mozart, touted by many to be the genius of his age. That may be true, but those of us in the Cello section sure get tired of playing page after page of his endless 8th notes. Am I right guys? Give it here. But seriously, folks, go put on some Mozart today, and just feel yourself getting smarter. So they say.

And now, of course, in the midst of all these historical B-days, a most happy and belated birthday to my big brother, Adam, first among men. So sorry I haven't called you (yet). As a matter of fact, this is just another episode in a long line of bad birthday treatment from me. Remember that time when I gave you a six-pack of Coke? Or was it even a six-pack? Terrible. Or that biography of Ronald Reagan? Geez. I might as well have waved from a passing car. Anyway, happy birthday, bro.

Sadly, President Gordon Bitner Hinckley died last night at the ripe old age of 97. As if anyone who reads this blog doesn't know that already. Well, most everyone. To the man who located his soul for me after my last transmission, if you return, go here.

I'm sad about the passing of an extraordinary leader of my faith, not to mention a genuinely good soul without whom the world is a little dimmer, but on the other hand, he died surrounded by family at the end of an indelible life packed to the rafters with selfless service, stalwart leadership, and a love for all mankind. President Hinckley, you will be missed.

Now I was planning here to go off on some tangent about how extraordinary lives can begin from anywhere on the planet, but I'm tired of writing, and I'm willing to wager that you're pretty tired of reading this.

Anyway, I've got to get to class.

Cheers.

End Transmission.