‘tis said “only mad dogs and Englishmen would go out in the mid-day sun”. To them now add “and the occasional Internet Legend … for a stroll and a solitary reisten”. Reisten – My new verb for “reading an audiobook”.
The NCAA sends letters, political rascals are above-the-fold, Mavs & Heat ebb and flow. All manner of soundless fury reigns. Amid it all, we set a new course for BobLeeSays and invite you along.
I spoke recently of my quite serious addiction to daily 5-mile walks while listening (“reistening”) to audiobooks. Over 200 miles and well over several dozen books and my appetite for both grows more voracious by the day.
Oh the unadultered joy of walking along woodland paths companioned by a rollicking yarn artfully told. I could attack you with the energy of a new grandparent with pictures of his first grandbaby …. and put you asleep faster than a mega-dose of Lunesta with an Ambien chaser.
It is a dual-tasking joy defying description. Not everyone’s cup of tea for sure; explaining why there are so many flavors of tea.
I live in a city with over 50 miles of dedicated Greenway paths plus a State Park less than 5 miles away with miles and miles of nature paths. And I live in an age of iPhones and audible.com and Nike+ ….. a delicious confluence of nature and technology.
What is the best part – the scenery – the story – the solitude …. Yes. Each and all.
Encountering other walkers, joggers, and bikers I offer a smile and a friendly wave. They usually reply in kind. I don’t ask their politics nor their sports partisanship. Nor do they ask mine. It’s best that way. Hail fellows and gals well met. It’s a good thing.
I have mentioned new BFFs Harlan Coben and Ted Bell and their respective literary creations – Myron Bolitar and Sir Alex Hawke. And Nelson DeMille’s – John Sutter. Fine folks of sterling, albeit flawed, characters and noble deeds. And my newest find whom I’ve known of forever but have just formally met – Louis L’Amour.
Ahhhh Mr L’Amour ….. story-telling genius does not do him justice. I am well into his Sackett Family Saga now and can only compare it to McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove series. Barnabas Sackett could surely ride side-by-side with Gus McRae and Woodrow Call.
There are 17 books in L’Amour’s Sacketts Saga. My excitement in beginning each new one is tempered by the reality that I am getting just a bit closer to the end. Is there a greater tribute to a writer of fine stories than that?
I don’t speak often of my father who died when I was matriculating at UNC …. but he would surely love the narratives of Louis L’Amour.
I walk alone for reasons that Blondie appreciates. She prefers to too. But when the narrator is describing a rip-roaring adventure of The Sacketts carving out a life in The New World – America; I feel the spirit of my Dad.
I’m reminded of his literary heroes – D’artagnian, Edmund Dantes, Natty Bumpo, Arthur’s gallant knights, Robin Hood, Jack Armstrong, et al. Dad loved the classic heroes so; even to imagining what positions each hero might play on a football team.
Was there ever a doubt ! I am indeed my Father’s son.
The NCAA sends “a letter” to Holden Thorp and there is talk of “an end to” The Great Unpleasantness but it will not end. Not with a letter …. not with a bang nor a whimper. Not by fire nor by ice. Such issues never truly end in the limitless void of sports rivalries.
Was Jimmy V brought down by “one pair of tennis shoes”? Did TA’s knee touch the Kenan turf? Did Dudley Bradley foul Clyde The Glide? What did Butch know and when did Butch know it? Rhetorical riddles debated forever wherever nachos are sold and flatscreens line the walls.
For those for whom school pride is their end all / be all – who live (?) in that imaginary arena where games never end, where all refs are crooked and all media is ‘agin us …. where reality is on hold and victory is always “ours” even when it is not …. for such sad souls, regardless of jersey color; it will, alas, never end.
Is it just me … or is ESPN predicting “a new NBA dynasty” every time either Dirk Nowitsky or Dewyane (?) Wade make their next basket. The absurdity of filling 24/7 with sports punditry has never been so obvious. The Mavs are doomed – Long live The Heat …. No, The Heat is doomed – Long Live the Mavs. Ridiculous enough to cause me to watch the WNBA? Nay, NOTHING would drive me to “that”.
For almost a dozen years, yours truly has “topseyed” this website. “It just happens”. What began with three incredible column ideas eventually became 1,500+ columns. No editor …. no deadline …. no rules …. nothing off-limits …. no real “agenda”. Just one column and then another one …..
A handful of curious readers has grown into a ragtag army of 1,000s of rascals, rogues and like-minded dudes
… a ragtag army of like-minds …
and damsels mystified by obtuse references, silly nicknames, needless ellipses and superficial sophistry. BobLeeNation now spans the globe across 43 states, Europe, Asia and that one guy down in Brisbane.
It is whatever I have wanted it to be. Run by “the rule of whim”. A cyber cornucopia of ever-changing graphics and features …. podcasts, trivia, ThinkAbouts, Stand&Declare, etc etc etc.
I see a windmill that looks imposing – I charge forth to joust with it. So many windmills …. so many many windmills. I spear them thru the gizzard and off their heads …. then another one appears …. and another …. and another. So many headless windmills filled with snarling board monkeys. Western Civilization is in peril and I alone must go forth to save it from devouring itself. If not BobLee …. then who?
At the end of the day – more windmills – more stoopid board monkeys and Western Civilization still hell-bent on stabbing itself in the eye with every sharp stick it can find. Alas and alack!
Starting Monday, I will post one new column each week on Sunday night. Ideally it will be of substance, or not, and will entertain someone other than me, or not. “Those kinds of columns” many of you have always said were your favorite kind. “Those kind” are my favorite kind too.
The vast majority of you visit here voluntarily. Some come for masochistic flagellation. We do appreciate the former and truly pity the latter.
Villainous windmills will still fear the bite of my sword and lance for Quixotic crusades are my forte. We shall laugh loudest at those who are incapable of laughing at themselves …. and we all know who they are. Those nattering pompous prigs of pusillanomy.
We still have no editor, but we do now have a deadline – Sunday night – for your Monday morning pleasure.
There will continue to be wars, rumors of wars, letters of inquiry, sorry no-count politicians and pompous jackasses out the wazoo. Endless signs of an ever-approaching Apocalypse. They all will come and they all will go whether we discuss them here or not. Of that I am certain. And …. 50% of all conspiracy theories will continue to be bogus but which 50% ?
Our “agenda” is simple: To be worthy of your time and attention.
Ever onward into the fray.