I Don't Know Whether to Kill Myself or Go Bowling

As those who follow the ramblings on the AI Blog know, bowling is my life; if you call this living. As clearly the worst bowler in the history of Bowling For Sotweeds, if not in the history of bowling (perhaps Reef could add such a course to his departmental offerings: "The History of Bowling: Why? No, Really, Why?) my attitude toward this 'sport' has become somewhat, shall we say, cynical, nay, dismissive, or some might say, jealously cloying.
Thus, I have embarked on a mission to improve my technique. This quest, as demonstrated by the inanest award in sport (the Comeback Player of the Year), is predicated on first being an abject failure. Part One - Success!! For Part Two, I had wanted to meet the only two bowlers I ever knew: Andy Varipapa and, oh, you know, that other guy who used to be on ABC with Chris Schenkel and a seemingly autonomous hand with a giant marker filling in the scores with perfect penmanship. But, they're all dead. So it goes.

I thus put myself in the hands of this modern day bowling savant; there are two words that have never been uttered in sequence before. If I had a father like this kid, I would have been great, too. Soon I will love bowling. Or maybe not.