I just can’t seem to stop myself now that I’ve found this fab blog where I can share my thoughts and feelings.

Summer has finally arrived. Not sure about you, but I am not all that fond of the heat. But it does give me an opportunity to wear my white loafers (sans socks, of course) and seersucker apparel which the ladies seem to always HAVE to touch. Yesterday I think I saw five men (or maybe oafs is a better term) wearing sleeveless, plaid shirts. You know, Larry The Cable Guy wannabes. I detest plaid. Don’t those people realize that plaid does nothing to accent your appearance? The only plaid garments I own are boxer shorts – and I only wear those for when the ladies come over, that’s right, all you lonesome gals out there that come over to ride this bull. You can bet I will save them for your eyes only, as I know how much you enjoy wearing “The Man’s Plaid Boxers”, at least that’s what Abercrombie & Fitch are selling us even though I buy mine at Wal-Mart. You’d never know ’cause this bull’s made for ridin’, not surveyin.

Someone must tell me why the news media seem to always be discussing Obama’s fund raising efforts. I have not heard nor read one word about McCain’s. I wonder if Obama’s 20 plus million he has raised includes my $2,500 that I paid him to dine in my company when he was in Nashville? Surprised? Well, consider my presence like that of an “enemy in the camp” if you will. Now everyone is speculating if iconoclast Ron Paul will be endorsing anyone. Please forgive me, but who gives a rat’s ass? Please, let’s just concentrate on the left and the right. The middle makes me nauseas. Ron is so much in the middle one could easily mistake him for an asshole. Oh, did I say “asshole”? Why yes I did. Forgive me Mr. Paul, it was just a figure of speech.

I am, I’m sure you know by now, a southern gentleman. My father used to ramrod the Senah Plantation near the center of Tennessee. Of course “Senah” is “Haynes” spelled backwards (Haynes Underwear) and that plantation was the source of my eventual inheritance. Oh I occasional market my wares (I am by practice a certified private eye, formally a lawyer but was disbarred due to fraternization with a client – unfortunately, that client was the client of the defense lawyer and I was at the time the asst DA) but my normal day is feeding off the hog so to speak (don’t tell my mother I called her a hog, HeeHee). I thank you for allowing me to join your blog. Maybe I should have my own?

Gotta sign off now folks. Hey what is with all the HeeHee on this blog? Everyone think they’re funny? Well, I’ll be damned if I haven’t found the right old folk’s home for me cause that is just how I think of myself, downright funny. Research says that most blog readers of politics are over the age of 63. Yeah, this is a nice right fit, right here. HeeHee….

I discovered that one of my socks had a hole in it. So I removed my other shoe (which is rather easy since I only wear loafers that I always buy at JC Pennys when they are on sale about every year or so). To my surprise, the other sock did not have a hole in it. After pondering on this mystery for a few minutes, it dawned on me that the socks I was wearing must be mismatched. I walked outside (which is not all that far from my office which is in the corner of a dark room in the basement of a three story building built in 1986) and studied my socks in the bright sunlight. Sure enough, although both black socks (I always wear black socks that I always buy at JC Pennys when they are on sale about every year or so), I could clearly see the difference in the fabric weave. Rather than depending on my memory, I made a note to myself to discard the defective garment and try to locate the brother of the pristine item.

The other exception was, I shit my pants.

That being said, you should know that over the years I have funded quite a bit of formal and informal research on honky tonks as an important part of Americana and a place for social gathering. It’s not the bar that is frivolous, it’s the booze (costs $$, fails at hydration, tastes like crap, causes loss of control, invites cops, leads to aggression, screws up your morning after). A local bar is usually the best place in town for french fries. You know how I loves me some fries. Plus, DDs drink free. FREE!

It’s entirely possible that such lists, as lists tend to be, are quite pragmatic.