Andrew Carnegie's got nothing on me.

I am not a joiner type.  I'm not an activist.  I'm not a protester or a marcher.  Sure, I'm friendly.  I'm engaging.  I'm supportive - not so much as to actually get involved but I'll click "like" on some one's cause on Facebook.  Provided I'm not in a rush or don't want to engage in a lengthy online discussion of how important whatever that cause is.   

Basically, I'm a selfish prick most of the time.  No, probably all of the time.  Having cancer is a big boon for this kind of behavior.  I can say and do as many selfish things as I like with the perfect excuse at the ready.  "I don't care about your stupid play, I've got cancer damn it!"  "Don't you know I've got cancer, this place is a dump!"  "Man, your new girlfriend is a bitch!  No offense, that's the cancer talking." 

Having cancer means never having to say you are sorry.  At least until you're cured.  Once that happens I'm sure I'll have to make the rounds like a Twelve-Stepper.  That's were my Dad really lucked out.  He hit the mother-load with his inoperable, incurable prostate cancer.  Nine years of treatments with no end in sight.  Nine years of blaming every outburst on cancer.  A cool cane.  A handicap sticker.  Free blankets.  Some guys have all the luck. 

As further evidence of my selfishness I am now joining a cause.  But Jules, that's incredibly philanthropic, you say, without knowing what it is but assuming it must be since I am finally getting involved.  I am joining a cancer cause.  Essentially, My cause is Me. 

I am driving with my Father (that lucky cancer riddled bastard) in Champion the Cure Challenge.  A fifty mile road rally to raise money to help find a cure for the many diseases called cancer.  We will be driving in his 1990 Honda Prelude Si complete with 160hp and the always tasteful red, white and blue paint job.  Not since I was a child and unable to make totally selfish decisions without severe parental correction have I participated in any kind of walk-, run-, dance-, or rock-a-thon. 

Secretly, I'm hoping that a cancer road rally is as funny as it seems in my mind.  A sort of Cannonball Run for the infirmed.  A convoy of Lincolns, Olds and Buicks filled with driver's that are only able to go a few miles at a time before needing to stop for bathroom breaks or long naps.  If that's the case I will dominate this thing.  I'll be the Mario Andretti of Cancer Racing.  Gentleman, Start Your Engines.

**For Donations send a check or money order to Champion the Cure c/o Healthcare Charities One Cumberland Place Suite 300 Bangor, ME 04401.**

Or you can send Cash, care of Jules.

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