Going through last week’s papers when I returned from vacation, I saw a story that gave comfort.

It wasn’t about jobs, real estate or the economy in general. There wasn’t a word about California paying its state employees with I.O.U.’s. North Korea’s nuclear program wasn’t mentioned, nor was the recent election in Iran. Health care reform wasn’t part of the story. It completely ignored Michael Jackson, Jon, Kate, the Octamom and all the rest.

When I finished reading it, I knew nothing more about the budget struggles of our cities and towns, RTD, school districts and library districts.

The story was a call for entries in the Arapahoe County Fair’s newest event — the demolition derby.

The planners of the fair totally get where our heads are at right now and have given us just what we need. Not since Christopher Walken’s fever earned him a prescription for more cow bell has an ailment been so perfectly matched to a cure.

I’m running out of things that don’t drive me nuts these days. For better or worse, I’ve paid at least some attention to stories about all the things I listed above and I’m tired.

Beyond that, my routine is out of whack. I used to enjoy listening to birds sing when I woke up. It was a peaceful reminder that a natural world chugged right along despite our troubles (granted, I usually don’t ponder global warming until later in the day, which helped this moment remain pure). Now, I listen to air nailers blasting away at new roofs in my neighborhood, which only reminds me I need to find a roofing contractor of my own.

I like talk radio in the car. ESPN is my standby. It’s light and funny … well, it used to be. Manny’s steroid case in baseball and the NFL’s pending labor dispute are big topics these days. I bounced over to Glenn Beck 15 seconds, long enough to hear him scream, “We’re on a rocket ship to hell!” before I started digging around for my iPod.

So when I read the short story, I leaned back, smiled and slipped into the fantasy of blowing $200 on a sans-windshield Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser and a helmet. I imaged clipping the tailend of the car next to me, throwing it in reverse and aiming that giant hatchback door at someone else’s radiator.

There is no rhyme or reason to a demolition derby, but there is little rhyme or reason to be found anywhere these days. The struggle to find it is what makes me nuts. The catch is, you have to keep looking for it and can’t give in to nonsense everywhere because the economy, health care, foreign affairs and all the rest are just too important. The celebrity stuff seems impossible to escape, but I have to try

But a demolition derby? I can relax and give in to that.

Take a break. Break something.