Clinton, South Carolina, Tuesday, February 16, 2016, 11:54 a.m.
So far I’ve written a NASCAR column (it will appear later in the week, as if by magic, or even a website) and the first three paragraphs of a chapter, and I don’t quite feel ready to write that chapter’s final 99 percent, so I decided to turn to a task of unplanned destination.
Lots of things are on my mind. Just not a lot on any one of them, at this particular point in time. Wouldn’t be prudent. Wait. Let me regain my balance. Members of the Bush family are orbiting around the state and exerting a gravitational pull on my mind.
Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water …
Ah, as those who would hope to limit my First Amendment right would tweet, stick to racing.
Okay. But not because you want me to. And I can’t wait to see that next photo of a casserole.
Who’s going to win the Daytona 500? Oh, whoever stays out of trouble, and, probably, Dale Earnhardt Jr. if he’s one of them. In terms of the championship, the statistics suggest it will have little to do with what happens afterward. It means a lot in prestige and money, but in the latter regard, NASCAR will no longer tell us how much it is.
Once it was common for NASCAR to brag about money. Maybe they’re hiding it because it’s much more practical than hiding the winner of the race, it being on TV and all.
Sigh. I sigh a lot.
The Greek drama is Tony Stewart. The Greek comedy is everything else.
Only NASCAR could reduce the seating capacity of its most famous track and call it Daytona Rising. Only NASCAR could proclaim its new palace for the 21st Century the World’s First Motorsports Stadium, conveniently dismissing the world’s previous hundred thousand.
What about that cozy little speedrome in, aptly, Rome, where they raced chariots? Oh, yeah. Motorsports. They just had horsepower.
When that caution clock starts to wind down in the Camping World Truck Series, the theme of “Final Jeopardy” should play on TV. Then, if it expires, Michael Waltrip should say, “Every time the clock runs out, an angel gets its wings.”
The world has changed everywhere, not just in NASCAR. A long time ago, when men were men and beauty queens were nervous, and corporations spoke for racers and not vice-versa, when sportswriters started drinking beer before the gamer was done, and it wasn’t some high-dollar import, either, and a hard charger could lap the field without them fools in the tower sprinkling stardust and calling it debris, and letting everybody catch up, and it was harder to gain a lap that it was to lose one, and … and … and …
The last thing I remember, I was reading about Rip Van Winkle. Thank God I woke up.
As you may have noticed, I use these blogs as a promotional tool for my novels. One, Crazy of Natural Causes, has been out since late July of 2015.
Another, Forgive Us Our Trespasses, will be out soon. I’m expecting to be given a release date soon. It’s a crime novel about corruption and patronage in a small town. The tale unfolds across two generations at the same time.
Crazy and Trespasses are my third and fourth novels. The Audacity of Dope was published in 2011, The Intangibles in 2013. I’m working on a fifth, Cowboys Come Home. Most of my books can be examined and purchased here: http://www.amazon.com/Monte-Dutton/e/B005H3B144/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1416767492&sr=8-1
My short fiction, reviews and essays can be found here: https://wellpilgrim.wordpress.com/
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