I browsed through my middle and high school yearbooks recently, while drinking cold, depreciating mugs of Pigs Eye beer. Taking care not to drip the dying slags of falling frost upon the aged pages, I wrestled with an obvious truth concerning yearbook nostalgia: We look silly. We act silly. We have silly sayings we believe are cool. We rely upon certain people to be the "in crowd" while others more substantial fade into the background. We have silly hair styles and clothing. We spent money on toys, games, and music that quickly goes out of style. We even made David...
