I don't pull out this card often, but I think it's past time on this one.

Several of my colleagues are headed back to D.C. this weekend on company business. And so I've finally gotten some crystal clear thoughts about the unthinkable. Heaven help us all.

I remember Harry Chapin's song about the University of Texas tower sniper of the late '60s. Like much of Chapin's work, it was cloying and pretentious to some, but I always felt the menace in the sniper's words as he fired his shots:

Am I?
I am a lover who's never been kissed.
Am I?
I am a fighter who's not made a fist.
Am I?
If I'm alive then there's so much I've missed.
How do I know I exist?
Are you listening to me?
Are you listening to me?
Am I?