From Atrios

So, how does one prepare for global economic collapse?

Stock up on canned goods? Buy a shotgun? I'm stumped.

Every now and then

I decide I'm about ready to quit my job and become a full-time blues musician.

Too bad I suck at it.

Looting

Even I am amazed at the pure, brass-balls, broad-daylight audacity of the Bush administration's attempt to loot the U.S. Treasury to the tune of $700 billion, no oversight allowed, no strings attached. This is what happens when the corporate ruling class declares itself above the law.

Blues Fest

Our little neighborhood band played at the Eau Claire Coalition Blues Festival on Saturday. It rained (although not directly on us), and I was pretty much the weakest link, at least instrumentally. But still—fun!

I'll post pictures as soon as I can get them from my MIL's camera.

Did I mention that the in-laws are in town? I make jokes, but thank God for them and their excellent babysitting.

Lives of the Poets (Part 1)

Every now and then I have this conversation with a poet acquaintance of mine in which I say something about the unseemly and pathetic clawing after crumbs that is the business end of poetry, and he says, "Well, if you're just writing poetry for what you can get out of it, you should quit." And then what I want to say is: Why is it bad to want to be rewarded for your work? Why is it bad to want to make a decent living? Take care of your family? Make your mortgage payments?

Well, it just is. And if you were really a poet, you'd know better than to ask the question.

Not fully committed to the goals of FYE.

I will not require their attendance at Party House, or the Ultimate Road Trip. Oh, well.

Kelley likes the new book.

Thank God. It's been a ball-buster of a summer.

HIGH SEASON out in paperback

Officially on 7/1, though I got my sample copies on Friday. I like the mm cover better than the hc cover. It's creepier, somehow.

Frogs

Driving down to Madison yesterday we got caught in a freak hail-storm, complete with thunder, lightning, and me scanning the horizon for funnel clouds. Fortunately the new van seems not to have sustained any damage—the hail was marble-sized and appeared relatively soft. But people were seriously freaking out—pulling off the road and in a couple of instances getting into multi-car fender-benders. It was very odd. I was expecting a rain of frogs next, or maybe the rending of the earth—giant chasms opening in the road surface with flames shooting out of them. One really does get the sense that we're teetering on the edge of the apocalypse right now. Never in my life have I imagined that I'd find myself thinking about buying canned goods in bulk, just in case the shit hits the fan.

If They IM'd: Laura Bush and Michelle Obama

Too funny.

A few videos for your viewing pleasure.

I just figured out how to embed video. Mr. Technology, they call me.

Yes We Can

No You Can't

I'm Voting Republican

GoBama.

It's pretty obvious that McW and his staff don't really understand what's coming down the pipe at them (otherwise, how could they have thought the "green screen" speech was, you know, a good idea?). Fine. The longer McW underestimates Obama and tries to dismiss him as "naive" or "inexperienced," the more Obama will make him look like grandpa Simpson, escaped from the home.

The Summer That Wasn't

Seriously. It's getting weird.

Blasts from the past.

One of the coolest (and occasionally creepiest) things about the blog is that it's put me back in touch with people I haven't talked to or seen (or thought about, sometimes) for twenty or thirty years. On the cool side of the ledger, a nice note and archival photo from my old college buddy Doug Matthews. The fact that I actually got a degree says something about my consumptive/recuperative powers in those days, I guess. Not to mention the benign inattention of OU's faculty and administrators. It may have been technically impossible to flunk out for a brief period there, short of setting fire to the Dean's office.

Anyway, here's the photo. That's actually me, I'm pretty sure. Just out of the picture on the left are Chris Davis (upper, guitar) and Larry Anderson (lower, banjo). The venue is probably Bojangle's; we played there a lot.

Wish I still had that guitar: it's a '67 Martin D28, Brazilian rosewood. It never really sounded that great, but it'd be worth a chunk of change in the current market.

Photo and trip down memory lane thanks to Uncle Douger.

A note to my colleagues

Sorry about that depart mental thing. It's not you; it's me.

Andy's right. Here's another bunny.

They call them departmental meetings

because you always depart mental.