I should probably start reading the news again. Either that, or get a hearing aid. Let me explain: Normally I obsessively follow the news, which provides most of the fodder for this website. But a few weeks ago I vowed to take a break from the daily depressing bombardment of bad news from all corners of the globe. I realized that reading about terrorism, war, Sarah Palin, “boobquakes,” tornadoes, Sarah Palin, recalcitrant Republicans, Tea Partyers and Sarah Palin was pushing me even further over the edge and turning me from a merely angry bald man into a furious bald man.

During my self-imposed news blackout, I still got to hear about current events from friends. And that, in turn, is what made me realize that my sense of hearing is going. That’s why on May 6 I celebrated the National Day of Beer by going pub-crawling and sampling 23 American ales. As I stumbled drunk out of the last pub, I saw a cute news anchor on the TV over the bar announce that it was actually the National Day of Prayer. Oops. Obviously I’d misheard my friends, although I’ll admit it might have been a Freudian thing. I’m a bit surprised no Christian barfly kicked my ass when I repeatedly raised my beer mug to proclaim, “Here’s to the National Day of Beer! Cheers!” After I realized my mistake, I decided to stay in the bar to hoist one more for the Lord.

To add to my shame, a couple of weeks ago I put on white tights, painted my skin blue and skipped down the street in celebration of Smurf Day, which, as it turns out, was actually Earth Day.

This is getting really embarrassing.

I realize I should get my hearing tested, although I already know it’s bad. And it’s not totally age-related. When I was a kid, my older brother would blast his Led Zepplin albums at a volume high enough to make a dead man’s ears bleed. This also may explain why I have a deep-seated fear of Robert Plant.

Logically I realize there’s nothing shameful about hearing loss, but I’m not sure I’m psychologically ready for hearing aids. My late father wore the big flesh-colored variety that curved around his ears and made him look like a member of the Borg from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Dad was constantly fiddling with his hearing aids, sometimes turning the volume up so loud that it would cause feedback. Anyone within a 10-foot radius would wince at the annoying "Screeeeeeeeeee!” emanating from his ears, and we’d have to shout at him to turn them down. On the plus side, he had the advantage of checking out of annoying conversations by plucking out his hearing aids and putting them in his shirt pocket. Hmmm. That’s a good selling point.

I’ll be 51 next month. Bill Clinton got hearing aids when he was about my age, and he’s still cool, for an adulterous pathological liar. Maybe hearing aids are a turn-on for chubby young interns. I’d like to find out.

So I hereby promise to get my hearing tested so that I can better keep up with these faux holidays and stop saying "Huh?" to my friends when they speak to me in hushed tones. I'll do that right after I celebrate this "Muvah’s Day" this Sunday… whatever that is.