The Unbearable Cuteness of Tito

Local Chug and Cohort Not Too Happy About Latest Pet Aquisition

Once secure in his place in the world, Fidel the chug is singing a different tune today. His home has been invaded by another pet. He did not take seriously the warnings about how he was really off his cute game, and how he was "getting too big to cuddle".Here are a few photos that reveal the depth of Fidel's concern. Next up: you will see the reason for his troubled thoughts, and believe me, he should definitely be worried. Also for the record, his cohort Rosa is not too thrilled either.

Friends Bear Witness to Broom Jumping

(Vermillion, SD) - Two long-time HIA'ers, R. Abeln and A. Fish, were eyewitnesses to a broom-jumping ceremony held at the Clay County Courthouse, Friday, September 26.

While the bride and groom could not be reached for comment, Fish, who served as both best man and photographer, was quite self-congratulatory on his stellar fulfillment of these dual roles.

"During the nuptials I held proud and firm as, meanwhile, the bride totally practically lost it," reported Fish. "Her voice cracking and her eyes tearing, she so totally almost lost it -- but not me, no-siree."

"And my photos are the shuh-hizz! I am so proud of the way I used the unique architecture of the courthouse to grab some awesome pix!" bragged Fish. "I am so impressed with my own ability to compose a fabulous shot in the midst of hub-bub and tufty bits of wedding finery."

Meanwhile, Abeln, looking glamorous in her gilded maidron-of-honor frock, remarked on how terrific she looked for the ceremony. "While Katy and Mike were saying something about honoring and cherishing or something -- I wasn't really listening -- I caught my reflection in the polished wood of the courtroom table," remarked Ablen. "DAMN, I looked hot!"

While the couple jetted off to Omaha for a weekend honeymoon, Fish and Abeln stunned downtown Vermillion and Sioux Falls with their glamour and pizzazz. "Mike and Katy should get married every year!" shouted a gleeful Abeln as she danced on the tables at Raziel's. "Just look at all the hot, young college studs who can't take their eyes off me!"

Bottom Feeders

Had to post this, as the whole fish-in-urethra was a topic of discussion in Hermosa. No, it wasn't about Al. It was those damn biologists, Jeffe and Erica, trying to cram knowledge and facts into the conversation. Some people!

Once & Again: The Past and Pending by The Shins

I meant to post the video for "Past & Pending" by The Shins.

Like life, like death, music and the stunningly desolate landscape are beautiful. Together, they are almost incomprehensibly bittersweet. But you and I have always known that.

It's filmed on highways. And under bridges. I watched this video several dozen times after I got the news, and I wept and I wept and I wept. But always because of what once was. No, don't believe that. Because that which once was was no longer. And then wouldn't be again.

A wise man -- I'm fairly certain I caught his name as Side Arm Pete -- said: "And after the tears, there is love." Humbly, I would add: "And still before, and in between the tears, there is love."

Whimsy may be a luxury of the undestroyed. I may be a snob, but I've never trusted people who haven't suffered. No: who haven't known true suffering but bleat or bitch because they think they have? Anyway, I love to imagine driving one of the old cars straight off of the HIA, to motor along the two-lanes I love most. After that I would wheel about the old hometown with circumstance and style.

I meant, before, to post this video. Why are French horns so beautiful? Is it because the fist is placed resolutely inside the trumpet? The Past and Pending (and Rilke's future, to be sure). Here are the words again, too:

As someone sets light to the first fire of autumn
We settle down to cut ourselves apart.
Cough and twitch from the news on your face
And some foreign candle burning in your eyes

Held to the past too aware of the pending
Chill as the dawn breaks and finds us up for sale.
Enter the fog another low road descending
Away from the cold lust, you house and summertime.

Blind to the last cursed affair pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed till the sun turns into wood dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting love.

Your name on my cast and my notes on your stay
Offer me little but doting on a crime.
We've turned every stone and for all our inventions
In matters of love loss, we've no recourse at all.

Blind to the last cursed affair pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed till the sun turns into wood dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting love.

It's a Tractor Hoedown!

Allegedly this is the final year for these square dancing tractors after decades of performances at Yankton's Riverboat days. I can't believe that they didn't start training wee lil' garden tractors to take over for the next generation of this pagentry . (Thanks to Lance at R-Pizza for the video footage)

The Past and Pending by The Shins

As someone sets light to the first fire of autumn
We settle down to cut ourselves apart.
Cough and twitch from the news on your face
And some foreign candle burning in your eyes

Held to the past too aware of the pending
Chill as the dawn breaks and finds us up for sale.
Enter the fog another low road descending
Away from the cold lust, you house and summertime.

Blind to the last cursed affair pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed till the sun turns into wood dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting love.

Your name on my cast and my notes on your stay
Offer me little but doting on a crime.
We've turned every stone and for all our inventions
In matters of love loss, we've no recourse at all.

Blind to the last cursed affair pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed till the sun turns into wood dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting love.