Life sure gives a good slap in the face.

I had been real content feeling sorry for myself the past month or so. You know the drill — gas prices are insane, school board budget meetings are beginning to make my brain ache, the George W. Bush economy is going to screw me out of retirement in 50 years, and in some bizarre twist, global warming has continuously dumped mountains of snow on the Lakeshore.

Anyone down for a pity party?

Enter Eric McLean — the only person I’ve met in the recent past who has earned himself a free pass to that party, and yet one of the few who really has no interest in being there. He’s got cancer, which by my definition, gives him the right to feel whatever he wants — miserable, angry, disappointed, whatever.