I’m out to Dearborn early on assignment, then back here to greet J.C. and Sammy, passing through en route home from the U.P. We have this inside joke when they come through. John says, “Now don’t go to no trouble,” but when people sleep under your roof, you sort of have to clean the bathroom. You have to go to that much trouble. But as crazed as I’ve been of late, I can’t go to much more trouble than that. The kitchen floor could stand a mopping, but it’s going unmopped.
This visit may be the ultimate no-trouble visit. Clean sheets, a clean bathroom, but that’s it. I expect we’ll go to Trader Joe’s and spend a million dollars on wine and nibbles. I’m taking the night off. It’ll be awesome.
All this by way of saying you guys are on your own today. Maybe we can kick off the discussion with Coozledad’s letter to the editor:
I’ve been to many places in the United States, and I’ve also been to Lynchburg, VA. I assume Mr. Roberts has done some traveling, when he presumes to speak for American values, because Lynchburg may as well be Moscow, or Beijing, or Tehran. It’s one of the least American places on the planet. Pork-barbecue theocracy with a dash of scuba-suit kink and compulsory inbreeding is by no means a plan for the rest of this nation.
“Scuba-suit kink” — I wonder if, somewhere in wingnut heaven, that guy knows the gift he left behind, just by being his own sweet self.
Dexter someone who sent an e-mail to Dexter saved a turtle. And paid the price.
I’ll check in sometime Wednesday. You all stay classy.