What. nothing for Uncle Ken to expound upon on a fine Friday morning with a full pot of coffee sitting in the kitchen? How am I to start my day?
Well maybe Beagles thought there should have been more expounding to do on that song about Speer and the guard. I had never heard it before, couldn't make much out of head or tailwise. I slipped the first two lines of it into the google machine and the machine came up with three articles on Spandou, one on the Berlin Wall, and the fifth one was The Institute itself, which maybe doesn't mean that much because Google tries to give you what it thinks you want. .
I am also disappointed that Old Dog has no tale of riding the roads of the south in his camo car a doe-eyed belle at his side and a jug of moonshine between them pulling into some farm stand for cokes for mixers and under the spell of the aroma ordering a couple bags of goober peas, and when the bag is done she is itching to see if what she has heard about Yankees, especially those of Finnish extraction, is true, he says, "Later Honey, right now I got to get myself another bag of these goobers. Can't get them up north you know." Makes her pout, but that just makes her cuter and he is tempted to forgo the goobers, but hey, there will be girls when he goes back north, but there won't be any goober peas.
I used coke because I happen to know that's what they call pop down south, I was hoping for one of those more colorful names the south is full of, but coke was it. But you know that whole thing about what you call pop is, I don't know, more interesting than it has any right to be. Chicago is big time pop country, Champaign was more neutral, and southern Illinois is solidly soda. I picked up the habit, just to be folksy I guess and held onto it through stints in California and Texas, but when I came back to Chicago I proudly reverted to being a pop guy.
That's all I have this mornng
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