Today, my friend Trudy is taking me fishing. I’ve never been fishing before. We were not a family of fishing/hunting people (actually, we were an odd family growing up.) To describe my home life as a child would be a very strange thing to do. I can tell you that it was spectacularly bizarre.

Of course I told the very famous Dirk Diggler about me going on a boat to catch fish and he was skeptical as he knows me pretty well. I was concerned about minnows on hooks (which he scoffed at)  and I will NOT touch a cricket. And, of course, there was a high sense of phobia on my part attached to the concept about catfish eating me.

He is my resident fishing expert, as Trudy is, and I think it would be cool to start a battle of the sexes between them to see who catches the most fish. They are both deadly serious about their fishing prowess. They also most likely would ignore my idea for a media fishing event to rival Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs but I can dare to dream.

Yesterday, either due to crippling depression or a wickedly smart plan to save my strength to fight killer catfish, I slept most of the day. Ironically, I slept most of the night as well. I think I’m ready to fight a catfish if necessary although Trudy assures us that we will not fun into any lake monsters except for pterodactyls. (She says there is a bay that has these ancient beasts there. I remain oddly optimistic as you know I have a fascination with finding Bigfoot tracks and to see aliens, who these days I welcome as I think they might offer me a PR job as no one in the state of Tennessee seems very interested in doing that right now.)

I have decided that I’m ready for the challenge. I’m also going to bring a cooler in case I fail miserably so I can drown myself in self-pity and cheap beer if I don’t catch anything or get my leg bitten off by evil catfish.

I have a feeling it will be entertaining. I mean for those guys with me because I have a gut instinct that this could be a laff-a-rama for the seasoned fisherwomen with me.

And there will be cupcakes made by Homer for absolutely no reasons whatsoever, because nothing says fishing like beer and cupcakes.

This will be something to see, my friends, and I will be the second to die if this were a horror film.

Just saying.

You know, something like that.

Then there are other times it’s bleak like a Mad Max movie before Tina Turner threw Mel Gibson into the Thunderdome. The first Mad Max movie was one where it started out with regular people who headed down a slow path into a deep pit. Washed out and gray is how I see that first film.

We just know it’s not going to end well.

Yesterday was scenario #2.

I realize that life is not a movie and I guess it’s how you look at it, where your heart is at that moment. I was sitting at Squirrel Farm this morning after an atrociously bad evening that spiraled out of control where I needed sanctuary and peace if only for a little while. And it was if all my fears were sitting on the patio with me as I sat in the early morning sun with my cup of coffee and a head too full to grab onto one thought.

I saw a cropduster rise over a field and a fox came out of a culvert which surprised me.  It was more colorful than yesterday, where much of my day was dimmed by the gray cloud I felt sitting over me. This morning, as each fear weighed like an anvil, the yellow of the plane and the fiery determination of the small fox scavenging for food less than 20 yards from me reminded me that some days have color and resonance and some days just do not.

Flight and the fiery determination of that fox are things I do understand.

I am better today but I am still seeking the path I must walk down. I no longer believe in certain things though, and it saddens me that I’ve lost that part of my youth that I had up until recently. Time, it seems as we grow older, does take some things from us.

Oh, and Jesco is in the news again via a tweet from Beth.

As I’m feeling a bit in the dumps today, I went seeking advice from Billie at KnoxNews. Alas, she is AWOL again thwarting me in my quest for hilarity, but they are launching a new look today after lunch.

Hoots is fine, if you were wondering, yet I’m feeling oddly disconnected these days. I need to take my ample yet adorable hiney out into the real world but I’m not feeling it today. Maybe tomorrow.

And on a final note, as a fan of yard sales, I’ve seen these before and they always want me to hide under the bed.

I was like others who were shocked that he was murdered this weekend. I guess my brain was just as interested on the whys of his death as much as anyone.  Once again, Twitter was on fire about what was going on and wondering about why this man was shot to death.

I’ve covered several murder trials (here in Hoots, we just don’t have that many quite frankly) and I have learned one thing. You have to let the police do their jobs in investigating every crime scene. I was always very careful not to get in the way at these things. Actually, murder/car wreck scenes are messy and my favorite thing to do was to cover the trials that followed a criminal investigation.

I know that it may not be popular to say in a world where instant communication is demanded by a hungry public, but I think cops just need to be allowed to do their jobs.

With that said, the National Lampoon website, of all places, takes a serious moment and asks a very good question.

Millions of football fans in and outside of Nashville want to know why McNair was murdered this weekend. It is indeed the most important question, as is often stressed in this blog. And indeed the answer should be made public to bring his murderers to justice. But that isn’t the juicy part of the story is it? The media is instead asking loudly why Steve McNair was in an apartment with a 20 year old woman who isn’t his wife?

The real question is, why do we need to know?

News these days is about the “sexy” bits. Was Michael Jackson on drugs, were Farrah Fawcett and Ryan O’Neal together when she died or we were even bombarded about Ed McMahon’s financial troubles were dissected after he passed away.

I saw these items discussed a great deal over the past two weeks

When policy is being debated on, let’s say on a school project, we find that we don’t hear about that like we do about the latest spat between Jon and Kate.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no saint about this stuff either. I want to know the whys too but I don’t really care about McNair being with a woman who isn’t his wife. (I do want to know, however, if Mark Sanford used taxpayers money to go see his booty call in Argentina. We work hard for that cash and that’s my interest in that case. I see elected officials differently than I do celebrities for that reason alone.)

We live in interesting times when it comes to our fascination for celebrity news. I am often morose about these things, but I do know that we tend to look at the emotional parts of this case instead of the fact that a man was murdered. If she killed him or if someone else did, it really comes down to the crime committed.

Now if you want to see an ongoing look about other under reported crimes in Nashville, especially in the Salem/Germantown area, go see S-TownMike.

Those folks have families mourning too, you know, they just weren’t famous.

It was a philisophical conversation where minds weren’t changed on some subjects, where a few revelations about new media were discussed and where I was asked where the term Hoots came from. (It’s quite simple actually. Twitter only has 140 characters and Hooterville was just too damned long.)

I only bring this up because I heard the term “Marriage of Politics” and I’ve been rolling that over in my cranium for the last few days. Yes, of course there is a marriage within the political infrastructures we see, which reminded me of Willie Herenton’s “I’m not a deal maker” quote from last week. Sometimes I find tenious connections in the oddest of places.

As Independence Day rolled around where we celebrated meat, beer and friendship with our families, I saw an article  from John that made me think very clearly about what we should want from our elected politicians and sometimes what we get. His thoughtful post is a must read.

In this odd world of northwest Tennessee, I have run out of fingers for  the people I know that have become unemployed in the last six weeks. I don’t know how this is going to be rectified quite frankly. I feel a new normal being created before my very eyes.

I wonder how a “Marriage of Politics” might be used to save pockets of people that some might not feel are worthy of saving. I see folks I’ve known my whole life who worked diligently since they were were old enough to fill out a job application and  are now gobsmacked by having to ask for government assistance during this depression (which it is), I hope my elected officials will find those they are “married” to in creating policies which will assist and not divide.

One of Perry County’s biggest disadvantages comes from not having adequate roads is an example of how we can look to the future. With plants doing buyouts and “downsizing” its operations, jobs are first and foremost in the minds of many.  NAFTA’s “marriage”  took manufacturing plants, corporate agricultural entity’s own more farms than those people who have worked their land for centuries and we are looking at a census here which will show that the jobs available are not sustaining an already very limited population.

The conversation that I had on Friday was left with the agreement that we would be the last of our two centuries of ancestors, most likely, to live in Hoots not by choice but by realities. Many will leave. It’s that simple. Our children cannot return to an area where the possibilities are so limited.

I repeat, its that simple.

As I looked at out the expansive and impressive farmland that is owned by Squirrel Queen’s family yesterday morning, I felt bittersweet and sad. It remains locally owned but for how long?

Alas, I may have finally become a cynic or the rose-colored glasses have turned to the color of the sky before a thunderstorm.

Answers are not easy.

Let’s recap:

• Mark Sanford is about the douchiest guy that I’ve seen in a long time. His wife, however, was pretty cool by telling him to “Suck It” even though she says she believes in forgiveness. That whole soul mate thing was ridiculous and I’ll even go as far as saying that his little governor had no idea that being a hypocrite can get you in a world of trouble despite those pesky words he said in his campaign ad. Yet, dude isn’t going to resign.
• HOWEVER, Sarah Palin will.  I’m not going to throw her on a pyre here but I will say that I’m not getting it, her press conference was brain cell reducing and let’s not forget that members of the McCain team threw a very weird, oddly-timed curve ball this week. Why did they bring up the train wreck aspect now of her role in the election last year? I don’t know but most folks I know like the underdog role, but not the roll of a leader quitting. There has to be more to this than meets the eye.
• I don’t want to speak ill of the dead but let’s face it, Michael Jackson was a very rich junkie. I am suffering Michael Jackson Death Fatigue.  Can I get medication to treat that because Lord knows Jackson had doctors hopping him on goof balls every fifteen minutes. In other news, I had no idea that Jackson had a kid named Blanket.
• Al Franken is now a Senator. This might be fun to watch.
• This grosses me out more than I can say in words. The Washington Post needs it’s butt kicked and that’s all I have to say on that.
• North Korea. We get it. You are firing missiles on Independence Day. Again.

Oh, there was more. The news this week was a good old fashioned bus plunge.

Let’s look at what we have here:

One very old, cranky dog that the bro-in-law loves is named Jura and is as big as a mobile home. Jura is all dog and weighs in about 80 lbs. If you have ever seen Timothy Treadwell and Grizzly Man, than you have seen her mouth which reminds me of a bear’s. Needless to say due to her size and her crankiness level, the Jehovah’s Witness folks do not stop by and leave pamphlets. Alas, no one at Chez Coma will not make the 144,000 person cut as Jura thinks that everyone should die that she doesn’t know or that we don’t introduce her to. If she likes you though, she’s pretty much a big teddy bear. At this moment she doesn’t like …

Pinks: Her new sometimes friend but on July 3rd, her arch nemesis.  The formerly pregnant now fixed dog that howls like a bloodhound, has some pit bull in her and who is generally a happy-go-lucky canine apparently thinks that Jura’s role as Billy Bad must end. She is filled with tons of energy that Jura finds annoying. Squirrel Queen and I were tossing dogs and pulling them apart faster than you can say “Sham Wow.” Yesterday, the fight for Alpha happened in earnest all day. I was even on the phone with Vibinc at one point and had to tell him I’d call him back when the blood started flying.

It was like Shark Week without the sharks.

Mabel, of course, tried to maintain peace by sleeping on the back of the couch and ignoring the bloodshed mired in sweet dreams of a recent endorsement for her candidacy for governor.

The Dog Whisperer would so take these dogs into foster care.

So, the fight for Alpha continues. I’m putting my money right now on the grand dame of Jura but one never knows in these situations.

Mabel refuses to make an endorsement of who should lead, because as you know, she has loftier things to think about.

If I could own a red suit of that caliber, I would die a happy woman. A flat top would not suit me at all though.

Feeling all Possumy today.

I haven’t written about Herenton’s primary challenge, or any of the on goings here in Memphis pertaining to the Mayor, because I don’t believe any of it until Council Chairman Lowery assumes the Mayor’s office on an interim basis. Once that happens, I’ll start believin’. Still, the Mayor’s antics today, including the possibility of running in the Special Election if he doesn’t like the field cast some serious doubts on how serious he really is about anything.

What this is starting to look like now, is a man who more than anything else, just wants to be in the public eye, stirring up shit, for his personal enjoyment.

Herenton, as you probably read earlier this week, called Steve Cohen an asshole. Cohen isn’t getting involved with Herenton, which is smart.

Ross goes on to write about how in politics, you have to make deals. Herenton basically says that he’s not a deal maker which may be the most naive, or asinine statement I’ve ever heard an elected individual say. I agree with Cracker, he’s not a stupid man and he is a seasoned politician or he wouldn’t have been mayor of Memphis for a billion years.

My point is that he’s saying what he thinks people want to hear.

I realize politicians do that. I’m not naive either.

And it all just rings very disingenuous. And his interview seemed, to me at least, to make him look a bit petty.

Herenton’s game is actually quite yawn-inducing to a large degree now that I think about it. And you’re looking at a special election that’s going to cost a lot of dough-re-mi at the end of the day.

So Willie, I ask, what’s the point?

I don’t like being hot, July always makes me a bit crabby due to the sweat factor and I have to shave my legs so much that they itch because I like wearing shorts. No one wants to see a soul patch on anyone’s ankles, I assure you.

With the addition of being one of the gainfully unemployed in an area that has zero jobs up for the taking, I’ve been a bit bored and detached from the real world this week. Yesterday, I just turned my phone off because, quite frankly, I didn’t have much to say.

I was found eventually (I need to learn how to hide better) and was told if I didn’t get my ample butt out of the house, there was going to be trouble. Yes, people, my friends take absolutely no crap from me. So Mabel and I headed out for a bit.

I have sort of been a bit under the weather emotionally so it probably was a good idea.

I ended running into Mr. Joe, Dirk Diggler and his son, Dirk Diggler Jr. who will have another name as soon as I can come up with one. (It was discovered that Mr. Joe’s dog was named Black Dog. The mystery has been solved by one of the members of the Scooby Doo gang that I hang with named KK.)

The conversation headed into old country music with the Digglers and our appreciation of older country music stars. Dirk Jr., I discovered, is a huge fan of Conway Twitty and John Conlee. Dirk Sr. likes Vern Gosdin and I, of course, love a little bit of everything from the Beastie Boys to Willie Nelson and I might have to cut you if you ever diss Don Williams’ song “Good Ole Boys Like Me” because that song is great.

Dirk Jr., is really a delightful kid although he’s about a 20 foot tall college dude. He’s like his dad to a large degree because they can both weave a great tale. As you know, I’m fond of listening to people tell stories.

Mabel was busy following folks into the bathroom as the door tends to remain open which amused me to no end. I guess she was campaigning in there where potential voters couldn’t escape her gubernatorial rhetoric. One never knows.

It’s always funny to me that at the Fellowship of the Church of the Bar, that music is a great way to learn about folks and it binds us together. When we find a singer or music that impacts us, I guess we are telling our story through the songs we discuss. If you suffered heartbreak, there is a song that will explain how you feel if you don’t know how to express it. Feel like telling the world to go screw itself, well there is a song out there for you to do that as well.

You get my drift.

And it’s the music of our past that sort of defines who we are now which includes myself.

Anyway, here is a picture of Zombie Mabel because there appears to be something very evil going on with her eyes as she is trying to get votes in these early days of July, which I also like to call hellfire and sweat month.