nobody asked…

As I sit here staring out at the misty rain engulfing Nashville, some of the best minds on the planet are enroute from diverse locations to a convergence at a place known only as The Compound near Etowah in the hills of East Tennessee. This conclave will party labor together over the weekend with an objective of consuming copious quantities of the region’s finest ’shine exploring paths to global peace and prosperity through culinary and gastronomic channels. The summit was convened by The High Holy Priest of Drinking with Blog Buddies a man known to all as Eric, The Straight White Guy, and his lovely Scot Missus. Attending dignitaries, their bodily pleasure companions, and security guards will drink, eat and bullshit enough to sate all. Prior to their Sunday departure, voting members will adopt a blueprint for solving all the world’s crises. Watch CNN for details as they become known. Well, at least catch a wrap later at Eric’s site.

While my offerings would pale in the blinding glow of such luminaries, it pains me arse severely that I had to RSVP with regrets. Having recently met, dined and drank with Eric and Missus, and having known several of the other ambassadors through their good works, I would give Jimbo’s left ball plus $10.47 to be in the presence of this distinguished assemblage of magnates of mélange.

Y’all hoist a pint or three for ol’ Winston as Bou leads you in chanting some incoherent babble about Elisson for President.