What I know for sure

... I am becoming very inconsistent as a civilian. Part one is to recognize the problem. Not sure what part two is. I seem to have lost the checksheet.

... I have a buddy who makes me smile. Not daily, because we don't communicate daily. But everytime we do, I smile. He has a tendency to sit on a mountianside and ponder things, then offer up what he sees as the, or at least a, solution. So far you are saying, "And.....?" Well, and this. At the same time he is backwards engineering this geopolitical soup of a messed up world to get at the kernels of truth he is also linking to punk rock bands and quoting southern rock lyrics. But even more amazing is how many times he works bears into his stories, and somehow you know the bear belongs. Now how many of us can say that? So, even though most who read me also already read him, all of you Drive By Bloggers need to check out the Appalachian Intellectuals site. (With a nod to Dorothy for a minute...Muslims and rockers and bears. Oh my!)

- Lisa or Kim should be America's Next Top Model.

- The oranges out back are looking ripe, but are not yet there. But when they are...look out. I have an electric juicer at the ready.

- I am surrounded by people with underdeveloped senses of politeness, appropriateness, and civility. They make up for it with overdeveloped senses of both urgency and entitlement. Dang, I miss the south.

- I was unfair above. There are actually still pockets of southern charm to be had here. You just gotta look a little harder to find them. A smart bet though, is to go to to a place where there are still a lot of trees. Real southern people like trees and don't mind driving a bit to get to the grocery store. Transplants want the store in their back yards and the trees on the road signs.

- Yesterday I saw something that actually turned my head. OK, two things if you count the girl at the fair eating the corn dog, but I'm not. I came up on a jeep in traffic. Had the soft top all rolled up and open. It had a college football bumper sticker and an equally large in your face pro-NRA bumper sticker. Not altogether uncommon in this area where opinions are loud and unyielding. But when I got alongside I saw not a large local Bubba but rather a young, petite, immaculately groomed black lady. I don't know, but that struck me as uncommon. Oh well, the world should make you go "Huh?" sometimes.

- I really like Italian sausage sandwiches with the works. No, really I do.

- The Ramones sang: I wanna be sedated. Had Joey not died, although any rock n' roll god worth his salt has gotta die young, or, in Joey's case, kinda young, he may have gone corporate on us and written jingles for commercials. For a financial firm: I wanna be pro-rated; For a presidential campaign: I wanna be debated; For an Amish film festival: I wanna be G rated; For your Southern Chevy dealers: I wanna be rebated; and while I could probably keep this up for some time still, I will say finally, For a liposuction center, I wanna be deflated.

- I have this picture and no good segueue to it:

- I am going to tender my application to the deuty sheriff position today. I am also going to see if I can work in a quick tour of the jail for the wife. Maybe 15 minutes or so.

- I think also, in preparation for attending the academy (by the way, this is not the full academy course for street officers, but rather a condensed version for sheriffs working the jail. I'm not going to be turned into a TJ Hooker or anything) I will work on getting bqack into shape. And before you say it, yes, I realize that round is a shape. I just want you to know if you feel tremors around 0630 EST for the next few weeks, it's just me and my love handles out for a jog. A very slow, very short jog.

Badump, badump, badump, out
Ramblin' Ed