Things you need to know:

1. I want to write this book about Mike Turner. Umm, ghost write, I mean.
2. If you are from Hoots, I’m looking for a p/t job for the Christmas season as the children in my life sort of want presents. And Homer the sister told me that beer and cigarettes for middle school students is frowned upon.
3. This is wonderful.
4. For Squirrel Queen. SQ, you must go here now.
5. Crap!

So, I may be off the grid for a bit. Be nice to each other, share your toys appropriately and, most importantly, don’t be a douche.

What feels better than seeing a monkey dry off a cat?

Nothing. NOTHING I tell you!

There really isn’t anyway to explain the acts of mad men. I cannot explain it to myself, to my nieces or to anyone else why people do the things they do. We will see countless hours spent in the coming days as pundits will try to tie this all together in a box. We are a nation that wants answers, but I don’t think there is one for this.

This morning, CNN has already played a video several times in the last hour of the accused gunman named Maj. Nadal Malik Hasan, buying a cup of coffee and hash browns in a convenience store video. A normal act before a murderous spree and horrifying an entire military facility, killing more than a dozen people and injuring more?

It’s all very sad.

GeezoidComa. A life of glamor here at Chez Coma where apparently I have become 86-years-old. I just hope during my aging process that I become someone as cool as Mr. Jimmy.

I finally saw Mr. Jimmy last night who was schooling me on a list of things. I was right, the weather had gotten him a bit down so I was pleased to see him because apparently there were things that I needed reminding about.

First of all, Mr. Jimmy spoke to me about the new world of human resources.

“If you want a damn job, you take what you can and then you work up from the damned thing. Human resources, my ass, that’s just a made up word that’ll be gone in about 10 years. It’s called a JOB. It’s ain’t called no damned vacation. And those bosses need to take care of who works for them and who doesn’t. If they don’t work, then you get rid of ‘em. If they do work, you make sure you keep ‘em and you make it worth their while. Bosses just went and got lazy. Human resources? Feh!”

Mr. Jimmy may be the only person I know that says “Feh.”

Then we moved on to dogs.

“They’ve bred dogs into being ignorant and stupid. (No one can say Stupid quite like Mr. Jimmy as it just rolls for what seems like an eternity off his tongue.) Dogs need to run. They need to be outside. They need to herd or hunt. If you want a good dog, get a coon hound. Don’t get one of those little dogs that’s brains were bred out of ‘em. They liked damned pieces of bad furniture, those little yappy bastards.”

And then we headed into Masterpiece Theater.

“You ever seen Masterpiece Theater? There’s too many damned channels right now and that’s the only show worth watching. I like Morse. He’s smart. Everyone right now is watching Oprah and it’s made ‘em crazy.”

I texted my friend, The Businator, telling him that Mr. Jimmy was on an exquisite, cuss-induced rant of pure perfection. He sent me back the lyrics to the Stones song “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”

I went down to the Chelsea drugstore
To get your prescription filled
I was standing in line with Mr. Jimmy
And man, did he look pretty ill
We decided that we would have a soda
My favorite flavor, cherry red
I sung my song to Mr. Jimmy
Yeah, and he said one word to me, and that was “dead”

I think Mr. Jimmy would kill me if he knew I referenced this song. My Mr. Jimmy likes New Orleans jazz, but I digress.

Personally, I think that America’s Next Great Pundit should just hire Mr. Jimmy. There would be FCC fines to pay but it would be sweet.

Dang, Hoots is a blast sometimes.

We know what we likes, if you know what I mean. Good music followed by some variation of hair metal. Ehh, our differences are what join us together in the church of the fellowship of the bar.

It was charming in its own way and so we settled in for a bit because, as always, visiting is of the good. It needs to be done every now and then, where heavier issues are set aside for a moment.

I will be headed to see this grave marker, which Dirk swears has a picture of a dog on it and that the dog has on glasses. As you know, that’s right up my alley. He said that from what he has heard, the dog was buried alongside his human. For some reason, this gives me a feeling of sadness and exhilaration this morning after.

Why? I do not know.

The place was more packed than usual, and I had a conversation with a man about how pizza in Europe is so much better than pizza here. The only place that has been able to recreate it, in my opinion, is New York City, although Pizza Perfect in Nashville is also VERY good. I think it’s because I like gouda mixed with mozzarella, and he just talked of being in far off place where the food is different and exotic. He is in the National Guard. We also talked of German beer and how it will knock you on your hiney. The thing is that it’s just better there. You can’t get that type of hopps and barley drubbing here with what is available.

Earlier in the day, Squirrel Queen and I heard about the adventures of being an engineer (and how trains are like a fussy mistress who bears a great weight), about local ghosts and ate nachos that were entirely too messy. I asked a local real estate agent where the best ghosts were and he looked at me like I’d lost his mind. I will ask my friend, Realtor Mom, to let me in on the secrets of our town. I think she won’t mind in the least because it’s sort of fun to know these things and she is very groovy about these things.

As we gathered around with a couple of my local bromances and one of my sismances (who is KK) we watched folks play darts as the evening winded down. as people laughed and good-naturedly competed with each other to be King/Queen of the Darts that particular evening. Bragging rights are always good during a recession, I assure you.

I also heard from Dirk that he saw Mr. Jimmy making his usual rounds around town and not to worry.

“He was out walking the other day,” Diggler said. “He’s fine. No worries.”

I think it is in these moments where the world is left outside that there are moments of unusual clarity that everything is going to be okay, and if it’s not, then each of us will get through it.

Random, I know.

From Silence:

Congratulations, though, to last night’s five winners in the City Council races. They will have tough decisions to make that affect 100% of the population, even though less than 5% of the population (less than 8% of the registered voters) cared enough to have a say in those decisions.

The key may come down to that although all elections are local when you get right down to it, voters were not inspired to go to the polls. And that’s a damn shame, quite frankly.

I refer you to this from last year.

Now, he’s talking about the presidential election, but the last three minutes are worth revisiting.

I just think that because it’s the only thing we have when it comes to participating in the political process, that it is our obligation to vote. Too many people died giving us this right, that it seem a shame not to vote.

And as Ferguson says, do we have to sexy up the vote to get constituents to go to the polls?

Just saying.

The deer stand lazily near the treeline, eating what is left and not ruined.

It’s getting colder finally and some crops still wait, wet and listless, in the fields. The moon did not disappoint us last night, and I dared not take it’s picture. I’ve never been able to capture the moon on film, and I assume it does not want to be caught. It’s etched in memory only and that is enough.

I feel a bit disconnected this week. I don’t know what I’m looking for as I ramble these roads, four-lanes that make us accessible, not nearly enough to bring the plants we need for jobs to save our census next year. Combines labor in soybean fields waiting for the harvest, which has been too wet to move forward on machines that cost as much as three houses here and that are used so briefly to accomplish the year’s end of bean, of cotton and remnants of last minute corn.

One man told me he had the flu. As he drives a truck, he sweated what he could of his illness out on his drive from Wisconsin to Florida before heading back home to Tennessee. “I had to deliver,” he said. “I can’t afford to get sick right now.” I asked about Mr. Jimmy, and no one has seen him. I will inquire again today about his whereabouts however I’m not going to the places that he frequents right now as much as I did. It worries me when I don’t see him for awhile. He’s older and not very ambulatory. He can’t know that I’m looking after him from a distance, as that would anger him, so I will stand in the shadows and ask those that know more than I do if he’s okay. The changing of the season can be wretched for some, and I think this applies to Mr. Jimmy.

Fragments of a life in a community, where there is a connection and, then at times, there isn’t. Everything is local, except we must remember, that local is where you are at in that very moment.

I remind myself this everyday. Seeing what is right before my eyes and not anticipating what I will see in the very next minute. It’s hard work, my friends.

Here’s the story from My Fox from Memphis. I think our local DA has done a smash-up job.

What follows are a few of my thoughts regarding recent changes in social networking. It’s also an exercise in geeking out. Those of you who are not card-carrying social media experts probably won’t understand why I’m so excited, but it’s worth the effort to learn. “But Amber,” you might say, “why would I want to waste hours of my invaluable time getting to know each other in 140 characters or less? I’m already friends with you on Facebook.” The difference between Facebook and Twitter is comparative to the difference between the telephone and radio. On Facebook, it is always a two-way conversation. We friend each other, and unless we play around with some privacy settings, we have complete access to each other. It’s a more personal connection. Twitter is a broadcast medium. You can talk to each other over a two-way radio, or you can just listen to the chatter over the channel. You can get a lot of interesting information both ways.

Amber breaks down Facebook and Twitter in a very concise analysis. I highly recommend folks read her post this morning.

But it’s a good conversation.

The thing is, In Session now knows what bloggers have been going through. Although I don’t think there is a term called blogger laundering. But what they said, and what bloggers go through … well it’s similar.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a few who do, but the days of the past world of blogging are over. I guess the Nashville folks are eating their own now. Let’s see, Pith just started doing morning round-ups. The Nashvillest have been doing that for a while. I think Pith was right to do this, but Christy and Morgan are the ones that started this latest trend. Well, and Brittney in the early days when dinosaurs smoked cigarettes.

It’s all good. We can all do this together. But eating our insides from within, well, that’s just nuts. And Say Uncle is telling you this.

Christian explains it:

RESOLUTION: Unless your news organization’s blogger has added anything significant to a news report that is not yours, including opinion, it’s always best your legacy media (or online version of legacy media) link directly to the original source, not to a blog that simply curated the source without adding anything of value.

This isn’t just mainstream, it’s everyone. Linkage is groovy and that’s how bloggers remain, no matter where they stand, as an important voice.

Link, people, link. Because if we link each other, then MSM pays attention.  It scares them.

Maybe I’m wrong, but this just seems like people losing at hopscotch and pouting at the swings when they don’t get their way. None of us like it, but it is what it is.

Update: Betsy has more at Pith in the Wind.

I think this photo is wonderful. It’s from Life magazine from 1952.

Here’s the cutline: Eyes of farmer, Gus Dumler, with reflection of a tractor, the praire, and the ruined courthouse of the ghost town of Ravana, Kansas.

Hoots

blog like they used to participate.

And some of what they say is mysterious and intimate, and quite stunning. And some of it is just groovy.

So let’s go:

1. What is lost, what is not and taking peeks into the past is what Kathy T. is conveying in a lovely post at the Mute Button.
2. Wisdom from Meg at The Ride Home on the value of time.
3. I dig the new look of Scott’s blog.
4. There is nothing better than Vibinc’s Puke category at his blog. This weekend, he gives you a classic horror tale from Poe.
5. It’s the friendships for me as well, Rex. And Congratulations.
6. Alice discusses anonymity vs. simplification. I understand where she’s coming from. Sometimes, I get a bit overwhelmed myself.
7. The day the water went out by Big Stupid Tommy.
8. Lynnster analyzes the West Memphis Three trial and last week’s Christian-Newsom trial out of Knoxville.
9. Problem solving from Laura Creekmore. (And it’s very funny.)
10. Jim Voorhies is a smart camper and writes: Net neutrality, for those who aren’t aware is a movement that is battling what major broadband providers want to do – create a tier of access to the Internet, providing corporations with lower rates and billing individuals at a different (or higher) rate. Go see what he means.

Smart and clever people make me smile.