We The Sheeple

Given that tomorrow is one of the celebrated match-ups in the newly minted season of Tennessee Football's questionable and very slippery early phase, I figured a stern nod of acknowledgment was due to the men in Orange for whatever meritorious and gallant effort that either explodes upon Shields-Watkins Field or flops stillborn in the Great Orange Sea of Neyland. As of this moment the current Vegas Line favors Florida by 7.5, or around a touchdown, which, is a respectable differential given the glumly whispered predictions around here of a two touchdown or more Florida victory – one that is stated matter -of-factly by those who dare utter such anathema, although, given the prior two games such logic seems almost sound, but as we know the polls aren't exactly the solid definition of a distinct and true premise for our syllogistic purposes, nevertheless, as they say "the game's gotta get played son."

"... then I voted for the lesser of two eVils."

That's a phrase I hear far too often. Problem I have is that you're still choosing eVil. Now, I'm no card carrying member of the Algonquin Round Table. That said, common sense tells me it'd be better to not vote at all. Its getting to the point where the saying "it doesn't matter who you vote for, just vote" is antiquated.

So, come November, if you believe in a candidate. If you are unafraid of loudly proclaiming, in a crowded room, "HEY! I VOTED FOR __________!!!" Vote. More power to you. But if you feel the least bit hesitant, follow the advice of Poppa Carlin, and don't.

Conflict, with the big "C," is one of those historical rhythms with a drumbeat that's driven the tempo of Homo sapien interaction ever since, well, at least since those damn monkeys from that 2001: A Space Odyssey  flick got old, err, "new" skool on each other and started bashing one another's skulls with mastodon femurs and a nascent discovery of bloodlust, power, competition and domination – which eventually was to be known as politics – yet nevertheless codifying a reflexive and brutal interaction in a homogeneous community that had, on a whole, mostly been interdependent for survival.

Aluminum, tastes like fear.

Truer words have yet to be spoken. Unlike Stipe, though, I don't wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow. I bury it deep within like a man should. That said we do agree that adrenaline pulls us near.

About the drawing, well hell. That was a quick drawing done in a local Waffle House at Jed's behest. I imparted upon him the hand gesture made famous on College Humor simply known as "The Shocker." While vulgar in nature, we use it subterfugiously at work since no one knows what the hell it means. Though, that's what we thought about "Alabama Black Snake." Turns out we're not as smart as we thought we were.

Puaca, that's another tale for a separate time.