Arriving back at the trailers today after a very pleasant hunt with a stellar field, I was told I was the luckiest man alive. And I’ll have to agree that today would be difficult to top. Arthur performed superbly, as usual, and then earned even more appreciation than usual as he allowed me to receive a massage on the way back to the trailers. (Best glute rub I’ve had all season!)
As I was eyeballing my website stats this morning (yeah, I know, I need a life, but hunting was cancelled), I noticed that a computer at halliburton.com had logged enough hits here to show up on the report. I know there are a few references to Halliburton here (mostly uncomplimentary), but not that many. Naturally, I couldn’t help but wonder what had attracted their attention, and what other rants they had wandered into after reading all I had to say about their corporation.
After confusing several of my hunting companions with my horse-swapping in the last few weeks, I may have confused myself today. I never had any doubt about which horse I was riding, even though I did accidentally call him Arthur a few times. But I did keep thinking that today was Sunday. I’m not sure why it felt so much like Sunday, but maybe it’s because I was on a horse that stood quietly at checks.
A confusing sequence of events that could only happen in KY. By law, there are no alcohol sales during the hours that the polls are open. Idealists think this is to prevent another incident like the Hatfield-McCoy feud. Cynics think it’s to give the vote-buyers with their supply of half-pints a more willing market. Schools are also closed, possibly to prevent children from being caught in Hatfield-McCoy crossfire, or possibly to give the children a chance to assist in delivering votes.
I may be reaching the point many bloggers reach, where the novelty wears off and I realize I really don’t have anything interesting to say. Of course, the political scene has provided lots of fodder, but I don’t have any unique insight that hasn’t already been covered by thousands of others. So I’m falling back to an area that is also overworked in a net with a large population of adolescent, or adolescent-minded, males. The slight twist is that the subjects of my cyberstalking (like Olympic equestriennes) tend to be a little more obscure than the typical supermodels or movie stars to which thousands of horny geeks have erected cybershrines (aka stalker sites). This week’s hottie is Katrina vanden Heuvel; even her name is a mouthful.