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Book Festival Rocks Not

Well, as I expected the old woman Slow brought photos from the Book Festival and I have to say I’m unimpressed.  As far as Festivals go, I was imagining flags waving, bands playing loud music, dancing in the streets and maybe even a parade like we have when the Gamecocks win the College Baseball Championships in Omaha every year. Okay. so it’s not EVERY year – but the last two out of three anyway.  Heh, heh.  A little sports trivia for the literary night.   At any rate, Festival equals  Party, right?   Uh, actually not so much.

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Party in a special collections library?

Yeah, let’s go throw down in the Ernest F. Hollings Special Collections Library of the Thomas Cooper Library at the University of South Carolina.  Wow that just makes you want to toss on your best party outfit and boogie, let me tell you.  The Red Man’s thinking Rock Around the Clock for sure over at the EFHSCL at TCL.  You gotta wonder what they keep in their “special” collections or more importantly, what constitutes a collection.  They’re not talking Elvis memorabilia.

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Pretty and Slow dressed to party

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OMG, is that really Pat Conroy?

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Pat Conroy and Pretty in the EFHSCL at TCL

Pretty’s favorite writer of all times is Pat Conroy so she was thrilled to talk to him at the Party.  This was a Magical Moment for her.  Hello Amigos in cyber space - note party background.  See any dancing?  See any bands?  See any Disco Balls?  They Rock Not.

Maybe things picked up on Saturday.  Slow was paneling somewhere so that must have been Group Fun.

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Slow paneling on Saturday

The old woman looks all Serious when she talks about her books.  Boring.  Super Boring.  Hey, is that our Amigo Dr. Rogers Peep paneling with her?  Probably – he loves books, too – birds of a feather, etc.   Sigh.

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Post paneling – Slow signs books

Pretty Too (#1 Son’s Pretty) and Pretty helped the old woman Slow sell her books

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Pretty buys books faster than Slow can sell hers

So Sports Fans, this is what the high drama has been about for the past couple of weeks.  Frankly, I don’t see what the Big Deal was about a Festival without a parade or music or Jose Cuervo or some kind of excitement, but Slow has worked and worked on her talks and must have sold a few books because Pretty brought home a boatload she bought at the Festival.  Last night I heard them talking about what a great time they’d had at the Festival and how much they loved books.

Everybody to their own tastes.  That’s what the old lady said when she kissed the COW.

Get me outta here Percy…I need a shot of caffeine…hope the rest of your weekend is filled with contained excitement…catch you later, Sports Fans.

 

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Book Festival Schmook Festival

First it was The Guild, now it’s a Book Festival.   Worthless, that’s what she is.  The old woman Slow’s been worthless as my editor for the entire month of May.   Books, books, books.  Will SOMEBODY please buy some books…

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The woman has no shame.  She takes advantage of The Red Man’s good nature and her position as my editor to advertise and promote her own words.  Well I say enough is enough.   Somebody stop her.

If you’re in South Carolina this weekend and looking for real adventure, dash over to see Slow at the Convention Center in Columbia.  Go early, though.  Her thingie about her book is at 10:00 a.m. in Lexington B wherever that is.  Tell her The Red Man sent you.

Get me outta here Percy…I’m freaking over my own largesse…catch you later, Sports Fans…

 

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I Bark Joel

This morning I was up very early and when The Red Man doesn’t sleep well, Katie bar the door.  He gets very cranky and out of sorts.  He begins looking around for people, places and things that irritate him.   Hmmm…Paw Snaps and Twirls!  I know – it’s Joel Osteen.  The guy creeps me out with his smiley-smiley face and eternal cheerfulness.  Can I just say nobody is that cheerful for that many TV programs unless they’ve been drinking Vitameatavegamin for a while like Lucy.   I loved Lucy.  She was so believable.

Of course, Lucy didn’t tweet.  She couldn’t tweet because she lived in the World B.T.(Before Twitter).  Peeps before Tweets were real neat and not creeps.  The Red Man is a poet, and he knows it.  Heh, heh.

IF Lucy could’ve tweeted, she would’ve made sure she tweeted a correct email address for questions about her guests like Harpo Marx or William Holden or John Wayne or even The Mertzes or Little Ricky.  Yes, that Lucy was a stickler for details and you could’ve bet good money on her for a correct email address to show the love.

On the other hand, we’ve got the Main Man of Hope Joel Osteen who has a Night of Hope in Miami and he has 36,000 hopeful Peeps show up and another 138,000 hopefuls live streaming from the comfort of their own home bleacher seats.  Equally hopeful, however.   Sending in thousands of wants and needs and I don’t know what all to the Happy Joel  prayer request email address.  Just one problemo which is Spanish for problem.  Wrong email address.  Oops.  All those thousands of hopeful requests came back with the sad news ”Delivery has failed permanently.”  Hopeless.

The Red Man hates disappointments of any size, but he particularly hates Hopelessness on a large scale and this little fiasco serves as a reminder of one of the Ten Commandments of Digi-vandalism:  Thou shalt not give out false email addresses, or it makes for one helluva social media mess.  If the road to Damascus is going to be a hyperlink and you want the linings of your pockets to be paved with gold, The Red Man says an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

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Get me outta here Percy…I need to chill…have a good one Sports Fans and thanks for hanging with us…

 

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Hail, Hail, The Gang’s All Here

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The Girls

Tennis Ball Obsessed Chelsea and Paw Licker Annie

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The Guys

Smokey Lonesome Ollie, The Red Man and Spike

Yeah so if a picture is worth a thousand words, these two photos sum up Week Numero Uno which is number  one in Spanish.  Yep, TBO Chelsea seems glad to have PL Annie home at Casa de Canterbury, but the guys may take a while to establish territories and alpha status and all that sniffing bullshit we like to do.   Let’s just say we haven’t gone overboard on warm and friendly yet.  Hey, it’s only the first week.

The leather chair in the den is still the prime spot and of course The Red Man jumped all over that from the gitgo.  But the downstairs bleacher seats aren’t nearly as important as the places on the king-sized bed so I’m off to bed early to claim my pillow next to the old woman Slow.

Get me outta here Percy…I hear pawsteps…catch you later, Sports Fans…

 

Slow and Pretty Kicked Up Their Heels

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Well, evidently the Big Event must have been a huge success tonight.  The old woman Slow and Pretty came home tuckered out but were all smiley-smiley about the “Fabulous Guild meeting” tonight.  Evidently Slow did a pretty good job and the Peeps in the audience enjoyed it plus she sold books.  Hooray for her.  Now she needs to get back to work for me.  She’s fiddle-faddled around long enough the past few days.

 

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Too Close For Comfort

Well Amigos the Good News is we made it to Casa de Canterbury this morning at 4:30 EDT after a 20-hour ride from Worsham Street in Texas.  The Bad News is we made it to Casa de Canterbury this morning at 4:30 EDT after a 20-hour ride from Worsham Street in Texas.

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Loading up the old Dodge Dakota on Worsham Street

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By the time we made our first stop, orange tarp blowing in the wind

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First Stop: Crockett, Texas

Be sure you are right.  Then go ahead. – Davy Crockett

Taking a road trip with Pretty and the old woman Slow is like pulling taffy.  You pull and pull the candy when it’s warm and then you twist and turn it until it finally snaps and breaks off into a piece you can eat.  We rode and rode and we stopped and stopped to read historical markers and ooh and aah over building murals and I don’t know what all until my patience snapped and broke like taffy.

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Camp Site – Camp Street – Camp Who Cares

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The Six Flags of Texas flying over Davy Crockett Memorial

If you ask me and certainly no one has, I think it’s overkill for just a place where a man wearing a coonskin cap took a break on a trip from Tennessee to San Antonio.  Or was the coonskin cap the Daniel Boone guy?  Oh, well.  Close enough.

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Sometimes we stopped at a park and Pretty took us sightseeing…

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…but mostly, Pretty drove and Smokey Lonesome Ollie moped

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Paw Licker Annie kicked Slow out of the front seat and rode shotgun

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And The Red Man was the Navigator for 18 of the 20 hours on the road

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Even the Navigator got tired

All I can say is that we were packed like sardines in that pickup cab for way too long and it was Too Close for Comfort, if you catch my drift.

Get me outta here Percy…I need to lay my weary head down on a pillow in this nice king-sized bed up in here tonight…catch you later, Sports Fans.

 

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Pretty To The Rescue!

Oh Pretty please hurry to see me because I’ve been severely mistreated while you were gone this time.  The old woman Slow took me to that evil Santa Vet and he poured a can of WhipAss all over my body.  Sweet Jesus.  I mean, The Red Man has scars that’ll take eons to heal.  We’re talking eons.  The only good news is that I’m taking my pills in Pill Pockets which are lip-smacking delicious.  Yummy, yummy, yummy.  Pain pills in Pill Pockets. What a country.

Well Amigos Pretty is coming to my rescue and we are all going home to Casa de Canterbury.  I say good riddance.  I’ll miss the Little Women of Worsham Street and the rowdy Huss Brothers but I’ve been down in Texas so long I’m barking with a twang.  How long have you been in Texas, Red?  I’ve been in Texas so long I ALMOST don’t notice the COWS any more.  And they’re everywhere down here.  Trust me.  We ride around these back roads in the Dodge Dakota and I’m thinking the scenery looks the same no matter where we go.  If you’ve seen one cow pasture, you’ve seen ‘em all. I need some City Streets.  Bright lights, big city turn me loose and set me free.

Get me outta here Percy…I’ve got packing to do…lose the boots old woman…

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