Greensboro

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Greetings all my pinky and chicken fingers,

My grandpap can’t point his pointer quiet right. His index finger has a crook in the middle that just won’t straighten out. Story he tells is that at the responsible age of eleven he was paid a dime to lead a cow into town. Along the road, about halfway there, a man named Glen Lee roared by in a pickup with no muffler. The cow spooked, the rope slipped, and in his haste to keep that cow and that shiny dime, grandpap caught his finger between the lead rope and a tree. When his pointer heeled, it was bent. For good.

He rarely thinks about it now, but when he does, he’s appreciative. For one thing, the Army didn’t need a man with a bum trigger finger in the Korean War, so it kept him stateside and alive. Even better, it gives him a good excuse to point with his middle finger and leave folks wondering if they just got the bird from an elderly man. “Dang, old man. I just asked how to get back to the highway.”

Strange, isn’t it, how a loud truck and a split-second decision can combine to give you license to flick people off forever? That’s part of what is amazing about politics. It’s the science of making the right split-second decision. Word choice, composure, facial expressions, holding farts – these guys are masters of self-moderation. But sometimes the true self comes out – like when McCain called his wife a c-bomb back in ’92, or when Barack said Pennsylvanians worship guns like a bunch of Pennsylvanians.

Those verbal crooked fingers are what make things really interesting. That’s where the truth is. I’m excited to watch the truth play out and I hope you are too. Let’s meet up tonight at the Green Bean at 7:00 to talk about it all.

See you when I see you,

Ritchie Rozzelle
Chapter Host
Drinking Liberally
Greensboro, NC

Greetings all my Ford and Peregrin Falcons,

As I see it, there are two kinds of seagulls. Actually, to be more accurate, there is one kind of seagull: the just-a-tad-too-cocky-to-be-so-filthy surfbird. But among seagulls, there are two distinct philosophies.

Gull Philosophy the First: Coastal Bliss
This is the mindset of the true beach-living gull, in which the bird leaves things to nature for survival. Theirs is a life ruled by natural rhythms. The tides. Day and night. Moon cycles. The comings and goings of brine shrimp. Off sea breezes. Sand dune thermals. And the like-clockwork delivery of dead, smelly things washed up on shore.

Beach-living gulls, much like beach-living people, place an amazing amount of trust in the natural order of the world to provide for them. The fact that this works, and works so well, is inspiring.

Gull Philosophy the Second: Walmart Consumptionism
Here we find the parking lot gull. This is a seagull that has somehow lost its way and migrated hundreds of miles inland. Instead of long strips of sandy white beaches, the parking lot gull makes its home on the blacktop acreage of suburban strip mall parking. For survival, the lot gull depends on our excess. Cold McDonalds french fries. Spit out gum. Hardee’s cheese paper. Wafting tractor trailer exhaust thermals. And the ever-present discarded baby diaper.

These lot loungers have totally bought into the idea that the private sector can meet their needs. And, yeah, it works. It works scary good. These birds are bloated with food. They have no want, but they eat and eat and eat some more until they end up sticking to the ground, rarely finding a need to fly. These seagulls have lost sight of good living.

_______________________

So here we stand watching the gulls. Taking note of the mindless way they land on the side of natural or constructed systems. Organic governing or privatized gullcare. But, while their birdbrains don’t get much of a choice, ours do. So let’s sit for a while and decide whether we want a life of self-discovered balance, or one of marketed survival. I, for one, feel pulled by the tides of coastal bliss.

We can peck it all out tonight at Drinking Liberally at The Green Bean on S. Elm St. at 7:00.

Flock over,

Ritchie Rozzelle
Chapter Host
Drinking Liberally
Greensboro, NC

Gretins al my minut & secnd hands,

I'm n a hrry t cach a flght ths mornn, so to spd thngs alng I've omttd evry non-esental ltter frm ths email. U'r all resonbly smrt an shuld be abl to fgure it out.

If u woud like cnvrsatin n full, come t Drnkin Librly tnite at sevn o'clok at the Green Bean on S Elm St.

See ya,

Richi Rozel
Chptr Hos
Drnkn Librly
Gboro, NC

Greetings all my language and cocktail muddlers,

First off, I will not be able to host Drinking Liberally tonight, as I’ve agreed to host an impromptu bachelor party. (Word up to DL member, George, who only has a few scant days of man freedom.)

Sorry for the last minute, irresponsible notice. My name is Ritchie. I do things at the last minute. I am irresponsible. And we move on …

So, this morning I heard a story about European healthcare. Those dudes have it made. (“Having it made” is defined in this case as exchanging 8% of one’s salary for complete and competent medical coverage.) Toward the end of the story, the reporter stated that the European population is aging faster than its U.S. counterpart. What does that even mean???

Now I’m imagining eight-year-old Germans in lederhosen and gray beards, hobbling around on walkers, quoting Kant. Geriatric French toddlers with pencil thin mustaches, striped shirts and beanies, smoking unfiltered cigarettes at the corner bar.

And as the European population ages faster. I get the feeling that a large part of America is getting younger. A lot of us are looking around and seeing an approaching opportunity to redefine this country. An opportunity for change. And, like any teenager faced with the chance to redefine their style, we’re running out to buy hair dye and new jeans. These are exciting times, and we should dig down and find the youthfulness and vigor that’s been hidden for the passed 8 years, pull it up and use it to our advantage.

Now, as you celebrate this July 4th, look forward to the same day next year. By then we might have a better government, a cleaner conscience, the energy to climb mountains and purple hair.

Meanwhile, Twelve-year-old Swedes will be eating meatballs through a straw.

Ritchie Rozzelle
Chapter Host
Drinking Liberally
Greensboro, NC