My Dad phoned a couple of hours ago to tell me that his Mum had died, and we both kept it together pretty well, even when he told me about his Dad snapping out of his Alzheimer's long enough to tell her he loved her, and as my Dad put it 'give her permission' to go.
I was fine talking to my boss to get a flight home for the funeral, I was fine going out to pick up a couple things for tonight's work, then I flipped stations to the tail end of Ben E. Hill's version of Stand By Me (the original), and I nearly drove off the road.

I'd like to point out that my techno-wang is now larger than any of yours (Goyer excepted, of course. That guy wraps his gadget-wang around his leg).
It's an MP3 player, a radio, and best of all, it still looks like a damn phone. Nokia has officially found the plot again.

Today's Get Fuzzy:
I will only say this once: You mess with me and I will mail your ass back to you in a Pringles can.