Beverage: diet coke
Toast: to the land of our fathers!
Joel and I were texting about our upcoming plans as the day wound down. I made a mild jape about that fallen beauty, the Queen City of the mighty Penobscot: Bangor, Maine. Now Joel is a fan of the burb, or at least he claims to be. Me, I don't think I could go back to the snow and those long, gray Februaries.
Joel also has great civic pride for Detroit, apparently. I opined that while Detroit may be the king of ruin and ludicrous criminal gambits, Dallas could certainly hold its own in the areas of murder, danger and everyday Southern gothic squalor.
My brother was quick to defend his home city's claim to worseness. Does Dallas have a city council president in hiding for fondling a teenage boy? An illiterate school board president who masturbates repeatedly in front of the superintendent?
No, no and no. The flat-footed desperation and lunacy-on-parade stories that Joel tells about the Motor City always crack me up. Go Kwame, I say. The stories here are generally shorter and more brutal. The cops are always killing people. But then everybody is armed.
I was starting to tell stories of recent Dallas mayhem, but you don't need to hear that, dear blog. Sufficient to say that gentle Bangor fared well in comparison.
So, snaps from just now. I liked how the ash held the form of the rolled tobacco. I never noticed the connection before. The textures on the ash are kind of fun, too if you can blow it up.
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