True Blood, in Which Folks Die and Fuck

So, this week, we learn that there are four black people in Bon Temps–Tara, her mom, her cousin, and the gravedigger.  We’ve yet to see if he’s related into Tara’s family, but I’m betting on yes.

Otherwise, we learned that, after your grandma’s funeral, it is customary in Louisiana to eat a pecan pie that looks a tad too fluffy to actually be a pecan pie, and then put on a frilly white nightgown and run through the cemetery.  Apparently if you can do this without throwing up, a hot guy will have sex with you.

I wish I had know this after my grandma’s funeral, because I just went back to my aunt and uncle’s and sat around and watched TV with my cousins.  But I would have been willing to try the pie and running through the cemetery thing.  Not saying I wouldn’t have puked, but I’d have tried.

One Kind Favor

So, I’m standing there talking to a guy wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Robert Johnson on it, having discovered that, though he’s not had a chance to see the new photo, he’s got all kinds of opinions about it and the Blues in general, when he looks over and says, “My god, is that Robin Williams that Phil Valentine has cornered over there?!” and I look over and it does appear to be Robin Williams.  And the guy says, “Do you think I should go try to save him?”  I shrug.  What do I know?  Maybe Robin Williams likes Phil Valentine.

But the dude I’m talking to seems unable to let go of the imagined horror of having to be forced to stand around while Phil Valentine tells you how important he is, so the guy goes over, inserts himself between Robin Williams and Phil Valentine and says, “Aren’t you Robin Williams?”  Robin Williams says “Yes,” and the guy says “I thought so, but I just had to make sure.  Is this guy giving you trouble?” Like he doesn’t know it’s Phil Valentine.  And Valentine is all “Oh, hey, I’ll catch you later.”

Now, I don’t know.  Maybe Robin Williams is old buddies with Phil Valentine and the dude in the Robert Johnson shirt just saved him for no reason.  But I felt a little like I was witnessing something awesome.

Anyway, he asked my opinion on the BB King controversy, of which I was unaware–the dude in the Robert Johnson t-shirt, not Phil Valentine, obviously–and proceded to tell me that people are apparently up in arms that King has called his latest album “One Kind Favor.”

As in “One kind favor I’ll ask of you/ see that my grave is kept clean.”

People, supposedly, are upset because they think it means that King is fixed on dying and given up.  Dude in the Robert Johnson shirt completely disagrees, thinks it’s instead about coming back at the end of your life to the songs that have had such a deep influence on you.

I like that.  I’m buying the album now to see for myself what I think.

Also, I got to run around trying to convince folks that there are two books that must be written, but that I don’t have the training of discipline to write.

1.  A good history of black music in Nashville.

2.  A good social biography (if such a beast exists) of Jack Macon.  I don’t think there’s enough information out there to write a straight up biography of Macon, but I do think you could do a book like the recent John Henry book that I’m too tired to look up the name of right now, that puts Macon in historical context and gets at the broader issues illuminated by the way he was able to conduct his life.

I don’t know.  I may be the only person who gives a big enough shit about Jack Macon to write a book about him, though.  Maybe that’s how shit like that gets started.  You realize there needs to be a book and you become aware that there might not be anyone but you to write it.


Well, shoot.


But I hate work!

Running Around Like Chickens with Our Heads Cut Off

So, my parents arrived here late Friday night.  The recalcitrant brother, however, is still in Georgia, so the whole purpose of them coming down–to get all our plumbing stuff straight–didn’t quite work out.  On the other hand, we now have some curtains, which has really made a marked improvement on the dining room, even if we did get those curtains at Big Lots.

The curtains we got for my room ended up being much shorter than mom or I thought they’d be, so I’ll have to be on the look out for longer ones.  It’s the right effect though, so that makes me happy.  I’m on the right track.

Anyway, we’ve started about 100 projects and finished about none of them.  But the kitchen is completely finished, which somehow makes the whole place feel more put together.

It’s glaringly obvious that we need to get a lawn mower.  Also glaringly obvious that I don’t have much to spend on one.  I can probably lure Mack down here one more time to mow the lawn, but after that, we’ve got to figure out something to do ourselves.  We could have sheep, right?

Ha, no, just kidding.

One of our tasks yesterday was to drive by John Rich’s new house which was good fun.  My dad, especially laughed, though I will say, in fairness to Rich, the way it’s situated on the hill makes it look much less obnoxious than I thought it might.

However, I am wondering if that place in town is to replace the place out here or in addition to the place out here, because we saw his tour bus pull in the current place the other night and it’s still sitting there now.  He’s certainly not going to inflict that thing on Love Circle, is he?  That street is just a hair wider than my ass, and people park on it.

I hope he’s got a good driver.

Ha, I’m John Rich’s obnoxious, gossipy neighbor.

The world is a weird place, my friends, very weird.

We had a huge family fight about Chicago trying to set up a high school specifically for GLBT kids.  I am of two minds about it.  On the one hand, I am glad that students will have a place to go where they can be safe and learn in peace.  On the other hand, it seems to me like tossing up your hands and admitting that you can’t keep the kids in your schools safe and that seems extremely unacceptable to me.

But my Dad was against it because he thinks it’s “special treatment” and how are people ever supposed to learn tolerance of diversity if they’re never exposed to people who are different than them?  Plus, people get beat up all the time at high school, so buck up, gay kids.

I pointed out that, if your daughter was being harrassed and sexually assaulted in school and the school seemed powerless to stop it, no one would think it was weird if you pulled your girl and put her in an all-girls school.

And then the Butcher was all “That stuff doesn’t happen without it getting stopped.  I just don’t think that girls get raped and it’s not believed.”  At which point, I had to reach down his throat and grab his heart, rip it out and beat him to death with it.

So, that was messy and unfun.

Needless to say, that’s when we had to restore family unity by making fun of John Rich.

Study that, sociologists.  I’m sure there’s a field-day’s worth of material there.