Bob Johnson and I went down the road to look at the horses. Bob Johnson and I have a lot in common. We both have grooming issues, and our IQs are about the same. I told my dad this, and he thought about it for a minute.
“Well,” he said. “Bob Johnson IS a pretty smart dog.”
First of all, an update on the buyout. The buyout failed to materialize this week. However, there is always the chance a major media conglomerate will just swoop down on this thing.
If that happens, you won’t need an update, because you’ll see us riding around in new sports cars. BoJo will have his own iPod. You’ll know when we sell out. We’ll be paying our bills with gold bars. We’ll be tipping with gold bars.
Bob Johnson gets a media nickname.
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How he made it across Coburn Mountain Road remains a mystery. By the time I saw Suicide Squirrel, I’d already kind of written him off. In the split-second it had taken me to see him and plot his trajectory, I’d come to the conclusion Suicide Squirrel was a goner.
I love this nationwide wailing and gnashing of teeth about the heat.
I grew up in the Deep South, so I earned my hot-weather badge at an early age. Now the rest of the country is in a sweaty panic because it’s hot in June.
In my Mississippi hometown, there was no such thing as a June heat wave. We had one heat wave every year, and it lasted from May to October.
The woods were buzzing with cicada song.
So that didn’t happen.
The end of the world or the rapture or whatever the heck was supposed to happen on Saturday.
And what did we learn?
I’m circling this week’s thematic quarry with ninja-like wiliness.
I went to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival last weekend. Thanks to the miracle of LlamaVision, I’m able to share with you some exciting moments from my trip.
I’m a snob, and so are you.
Ow! Quit hittin’ me! Makin’ a point here!
In the specific definition I have in mind, a snob is a person who feels and acts smugly superior about his or her particular tastes or interests.
I’m not talking about people who treat others as social inferiors because of their class or race. That is the sport of vertical snobbery, which requires pitons, crampons and a sharp ice axe.
Yesterday I drove south into Franklin County to check on some friends who live near the town of Phil Campbell, Alabama. Phil Campbell was one of many towns and cities across the South devastated by Wednesday’s tornados.
Okay, I finally finished reading The Sun Also Rises. I sat on the porch this afternoon and I read the dang ending. The weather was too nice for anything except loafing. I knew how it was going to end, but it was still fun, and there were breezes and blue skies.
Scrappy Pappy came over for some attention. He was puffed up and cocky today. Last night he fought another big tom and “won.”