The Wednesday Pop Culture Rant can see, shimmering there in the distance, the end to our long national nightmare. Which will immediately be followed by candidates declaring for the 2020 presidential race and The Rant poking sharp instruments into our eyes and ears. Enjoy America. You’ve earned it.

The Rant has a greyhound at the Worldwide Headquarters to keep us calm when Trump turns the crazy up to Defcon 4. She’s earned every last bite of her kibble and treats. Greyhounds can hit a top speed of over 40mph. They combine the athleticism of LeBron James with the disposition of a stoner. After a couple of laps around the yard, they hit the sack for around eighteen hours a day. Our mellow girl makes Matthew McConaughey look like a tightly wound drill sergeant.

The Rant suggests that amidst the hoopla of the Cubs and Cleveland vying to erase a sesquicentennial of futility, you take a listen to John Smoltz who has become one of the great sports commentators. His insight and observations cannot be matched. Last night when the Tribe brought in closer Cody Allen in a 6-0 game, Smoltz lamented the fact that Allen might give away his approach to certain hitters, which could come back to haunt him in a seven game series. Just throw fastballs, suggested Smoltz, and then observed he had done so even when it meant giving up a couple of meaningless home runs. Well worth it to have the edge later he felt.

We enjoy a person that breaks down their craft from all angles to achieve artistry. There are no mundane professions, only mundane people that practice them. The Rant once knew a printer that awoke in the night, full of insight as to how achieve the perfect tint on the press for a vexing print job. The man dreamed in Pantone. And we admired him for it.

So take an extra moment today and make that email sing. Execute that contract with flair. Dig that hole with gusto. Your existence is an opus waiting to be composed. If awake, the greyhound would surely agree.

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