Greetings From St. Louis. I was at a bar last night and the conversation at my table and the table next to me was Ferguson. Some day I'll tell you about all the pies we've been baking, but in keeping with the Media it's all Ferguson all the time.
The Reason Why We Can't All Just Get Along
Youthful testosterone. That's why we can't have peace. Police perched on their tanks swinging their ... their automatic weapons at the crowd. Calling the crowd "fucking animals." Scary testosterone. Young men the same age, different skin, throwing bottles full of machismo. When I saw the video of Mike Brown intimidating the store owner, I thought, "He'd make a good Ferguson police officer." My mind is at rest, now that I can blame all the cocky young men, armed and unarmed.
I FInd A Lost Love on the TV
Years ago, a friend brought some barbeque to Elliot Co., and it was a pork steak. Not the fatty cheap pork steaks you marinate in Bud and put on the Weber. This was a porterhouse of pork. When I asked where it came from, he said "Red's." I drove all over Natural Bridge road try to find them, and couldn't. The internet gave several locations, and none panned out.
And of course, watching the coverage this week I saw the sign for Red's Original Barbeque, checked with my friend, and he said, yes, that's the place. So when we all go back to Ferguson to throw money at it after the unplesantness is over, I'm headed for Reds.
When Will It Be Over?
I did a little research on riots and was discouraged to read they are over when the National Guard comes in and shoots people. Then it's over the next day. They've kept the National Guard at the command center so far, thankfully. Someday it will be over. Antonio French will be move to Ferguson and be mayor, bottle-throwers will be given a badge and a paycheck, and there will be peace.
Or it might be over if the grand jury speedily indicts the officer, but I don't think that's going to happen.