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              It was a blustery weekend in Muskrat Flats. The wind was conducting a symphony as the poplars bordering the vineyard...

Friday, October 3, 2008

"I see your silver shining town and I know I can't go there..."

I sat down with a friend to watch the Vice Presidential debate Thursday night. Yah, fer sure, you betcha I did, doggone it.

Yikes, may the God of my understanding Save us.

I had expectations for the debate. I had expected that Sarah Palin would be slick, polished and full of talking points, speaking in generalized themes. I was correct. I was not prepared for the "aw shucks" down home main street America folksy schtick which she was presenting. It was a new-killer performance, I tell you what. I can bet that most of the non-thinking morons who believe everything they see or hear from the Fox network want to not only drink a beer with Sarah Palin but finish off that six pack and engage her in a wet and steamy game of "Drill, baby,drill!"

In my opinion, she didn't really answer any questions posed to her. When I heard Gwen Ifill was to be the moderator, I expected the Governor to be stepping in front of the 70 MPH Fastball machine at the local batting cage. What Governor Palin faced was the 30 MPH softball machine. Ifill was completely lax in holding the Governor to the subject matter, allowing her to deliver line after line of impertinent rehearsed material. I don't believe she uttered one original thought throughout the debate. To think, the right wing pundits were crying foul when they learned of Ifill's role as the moderator of the debate.

Now I am sure they are rejoicing in Governor Palin's shameless invocation of memories of Ronald Regan with statements such as, "there he goes, again." Referring to the "shining city at the top of the hill." and extensively quoting Reagan in her closing remarks. I want to hear what SHE has to say. I've heard what Ronald Reagan had to say, and it was tripe back then.

Senator O'Biden (did anyone else catch that gaffe?) demonstrated why he is the best candidate for the job. He avoided attacking Governor Palin rather attacking John McCain's policies, his voting track record regarding finance reform, and portraying him as anything but the "maverick" he claims to be.

Senator Biden was succinct, displayed a clear command of facts, knowledge of foreign affairs and demonstrated why he is the better candidate to fill the shoes of V.P. Enough of that.

Before the debate my friend said,

"I still haven't read your latest blog. Are you going to keep doing the fiction stuff, cause I miss hearing about what is going on in your life."

What's going on my life? You want to hear about what's going on in my life? And this is the same guy who complains that I "can't keep it to less than 500 words."

You have read about my exploits at the 7-11 occasionally here and there. Well there have been a string of robberies at the 7-11 and it seems that they were all possibly done by the same person/people. The last two definitely were, same masks, same gun, same modus operandi. These morons were caught red handed.

I have been questioned recently by more than a few people regarding Muskrat Flats. Is it real? where is it? How was your trip? Is Gomer Eckstein a real person?

Muskrat Flats is a location mentioned in the Grateful Dead song Pride of Cucamonga.

It is a fictitious location in an un-named State somewhere in the US. We know that it has unique geographical features such as season changes, a River, a Wharf, all located on a peninsula in a valley, which also happens to have flat lands. Go figure. This story wrote itself for a while before it began to develop a character of its own. We know that is borders Cities and towns and neighborhoods such as West Side, Baptist Lake, Enfield, Prescott and Dana. The last three towns suggest it may be somewhere in Western Mass where the Swift and Ware Rivers meet.

Muskrat Flats is my little foray into a Walter Mitty like world. Escapist delusions of grandeur, perhaps, or more like an idyllic Lake Wobegon type of place with a little harder edge. Somehow I can't imagine Garrison Keillor getting on stage and starting out his monologue by stating,

"Reverend Inquvist, the pastor at the Lutheran church, here in town, went down the the methadone clinic the other day ..."

It just doesn't sound right, but it sure fits a situation which could occur in a place like Muskrat Flats.

So, yes it is mostly fiction with bits of reality thrown in. What can I say? It just happened. When I write I am just as amazed as anyone as to what the end result will be. I generally have an Idea of where I want to go with the story, but most of the best stuff just rolls out. People, places and things, (heh, get it?) may seem familiar to you, but they are people you meet every day, there are circumstances that one and ten people you know are probably dealing with as you read this. I'm just a little better at making my words, ideas and fantasies come to life, than the average bear.

Well, I think I have exceeded my 500 word limit again. I will keep up with a reporting on things going on in my life and my recovery.

For now, the residents of Muskrat Flats are gearing up for the Fall Festival at the Farm and Agriculture Museum. Jeremiah and his wife Jenny are bringing their work home in anticipation of next weekend's events. He is going over the demo schedule and she is bending black pvc tubing and making hula hoops.

Sid Bartleby's kid has only gotten kicked by one horse as he practices putting their shoes on.

Gomer is furiously working on writing his second step, in the meantime he is trying to reinforce the crumbling harness he is supposed to wear in the re-enactment of Sheriff Hawthorne's "hanging" with one of his more up to date and presumably safer parachute harnesses.

These characters have a pulse they are breathing and to me, and to some of you they seem so real that you question their existence. I want to find out what happens to them next, don't you?

Until then, you will once again find me ...

Running Hard out of Muskrat Flats.

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