I have just under five hours to get three stories written. Plenty of time to blog.
I did not attend the Flying Pig in Cincytown. A perfect storm kept me in Bangs on Saturday, beginning first when a butterfly flapped its wings, causing Ashton Kutchter to go back in time, which ultimately led to the Iraq war and news that gasoline supplies nationwide have fallen for a 12th consecutive week, sending the U.S. average to $2.98 a gallon, just eight cents shy of the national record.
In other words, Seth was right when he said “it’s dumb to drive 300 miles to pay money to run six.” He has a point. Blanket apology to everyone.
But a special congratulations to the Teters/Schultheis who, as I see online, finished with record chip times. You are my hero. I will write folk songs about (the collective) you.
First Fridays on the Mount Vernon Square.
Everyone should go. It seems there only are extremes when it comes to Knox County’s gene pool. Seth and I developed the “extra ones!” game for times we encounter a family with one too many chromosomes. The mom who yelled at Russell to “get the fuck back here aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh goddammit!” as the youngster attempted to zoom across the street on his bike? “Extra One!” The Gallery owners who tapped Snack Manager Gary for their big opening night (Fig Newtons, Gary? Really?) “Extra one!” It’s fun. By playing this game, we establish ourselves as far superior to everyone around us. It’s a comfortable place to be.
Saturday there was gardening in the rain. A giant pile of community compost. Sunday, laundry. Some other stuff. We went to a REAL Mennonite Church. There were bonnets. But after the 2.5-hour service, I really haven’t the energy to speak any more of it. It was one of those “well…we’re going to sing ONE MORE VERSE for those of you out there who thus far have refused to listen to God by coming to the altar to be saved.” I almost rededicated my life so that we could go home and get some dinner.
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