Horny Goat Weed
The absolute best piece of music for driving that long stretch of 494 that connects South Minneapolis to the darkest corners of Inver Grove Heights, where the worlds finest cribbage players come to congregate on frigid fall nights, has got to be M83’s Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts. It’s the perfect soundtrack for that journey. Especially after you’ve dominated you’re opponents at the crib board, and you’re still washing the carnage off your hands.

I walked away with the money pot last night after scoring my first 24 hand. For those of you who don’t play, it’s a high scoring hand that doesn’t come up very often. That hand, single-handedly crushed one of my lesser opponents, a mother and son team who fought like dogs. At one point the mother was so angry and dejected with her son (who is probably 40), that she heaped mad insults at him, wishing she had thrown him in a dumpster when he was born or cursing herself for not having beat his head against the side of his crib. As you can tell by this off-color humor, the stakes are high and the players feisty. Let me tell you tho, there is little in this world funnier than women pushing 80 who cuss like they are auditioning for a guest spot on South Park.

This weekend my three goals are to: 1) spend about seven hours raking leaves, 2) take my brand new edger to the invading grasses that wish to obscure my sidewalk, and 3) catch the Team America: World Police movie. If all that gets dialed in I will be very happy.

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