Why John Cougar Mellencamp would hate me.

Welcome to the blog, take two (tentatively titled: "Go to hell, MySpace!"). Many appreciations to you for reading, and if you feel it necessary, be sure to comment on any and all postings at the bottom. I promised no sports, so I'll stick with that promise, in lieu of the fact that Brett Favre retired, and I feel like celebrating as if I were at an Iraqi wedding. But that would be rubbing it in. One topic at a time -- keep it simple, stupid.

Speaking of "simple," I spend the weekend with my girlfriend at the International Festival of Owls in pristine Houston, MN. Where, you ask? Think about as far south and east as you can get in Minnesota without not being in Minnesota. I'll draw you a picture:

Yes, the best of bluff country. I didn't know this. Of course, I didn't know the town EXISTED until a month ago. Apparently, being surrounded by bluffs is a good way to keep all of the water in your town (and presumably in your basement -- that whole gravity thing is a kick in the pants). Building on a flood plain isn't the greatest idea. Ask New Orleans. Hmm, too soon?

Now, I've been a city boy for my entire life. Some of the cities were bigger than others, but regardless, I've always been within the city limits. I never had to get up at the crack of dawn to help with chores. I've never actually TOUCHED a cow that wasn't at a State Fair. I didn't know that corn grew in the ground until last summer. I fit in at an FFA meeting about as well as Bono at a NASCAR race. And after a weekend rocking it small-town style, I can honestly say: THANK YOU, JESUS. Now I know why all those towns in South Dakota are full of alcoholic meth heads. There's nothing else to do!

For 48 hours, here's what I did: Slept. Watched Food Network. Listened to snowmobiles idling outside. Slept. Sat in a gymnasium chock-full of people who had their faces painted like OWLS. More Food Network. More sleep. Drove quickly the hell out of town. Maybe it would've been different if there weren't a foot of snow on the ground, and I could've done something like bike around, but I kind of doubt that would've been much fun, either.

I can see benefits, however, to being from a town of 1,000 people. Say, for instance, you're very good at football. You could lead your team to victories against other teams from 1,000-person communities, inevitably leading to everyone in town wondering HOW ON EARTH you didn't make it in the NFL, because you ran for 83 yards and a touchdown against Leroy-Ostrander!

A small town guarantees one of three things: (1) there was a serial killer from that town, (2) the most significant event in that town's history was some sort of natural disaster, or (3) everyone in town gets whipped completely out of shape about some obtuse festival. Say, celebrating...owls.

Before you go all, "Ooh, look at the guy from the Twin Cities comin' down to our pleasant little town and bein' all high and mighty!", consider this: we city folk can't win in towns like Houston. If we're overly friendly, we're just being condescending to the country bumpkins. If we're not friendly enough, we're thumbing our nose at them. If we don't come to their cities, we're letting them get left behind, but if we come to their city and spend our money, they're pissed because we're using them as our resort town (a very popular complaint up north).

In conclusion, little towns are boring, and if you think any different, you're lying to everyone and yourself. But what do I know? I'm one of them city folk. We're just ignorant and self-absorbed. Oh well. So be it. At least I get cell phone coverage.