Just a Small Town Boy

Normally if I'm going to blogwhore anyone it's the people I work with, they are great writers and good humans and they make me strive to better at both. But this guy hits them over the fence, or qualifies first, or sinks the winning basket, or whatever it is that Hoosiers do.

e.g. DUNNO how it is in your neighborhood, but around here if someone begins a sentence "When I was in college I took a course in…" and the course in question was not some practical or technical instruction (ceramics, glass-blowing, accounting), and the observation which follows does not merely affirm, or perhaps modify, some general banality ("and it's pronounced 'kill'"; "and math is hard"), then the one thing you are about to learn--have already learned--is that the speaker doesn't know what th' fuck he's talking about.

Read the whole thing. I hope he's a descendant of James Whitcomb Riley, because his prose is near as good as JWC's poetry.

I do good work, my colleagues here do really good work, Doghouse Riley has moments that make me go 'damn, that's so good I wonder why I do this.'

I'll still go on doing this, because just like playing guitar or writing songs or writing, I can't help it, I just gotta do it. But damn! when someone is that good ya just gotta acknowledge it.