Thinking Of Q; Reflections On A Year Ago

 

So. I was just reading some comments from Squattie and Beej and it hit me. A year ago today is when I packed my car and headed back to Austin after BlogCon 2011. That memory should have hit yesterday when I learned that Quincy’s wife died. That’s my buddy Q from over to Thank-Q For Common Sense.

My first stop for BlogCon 2011 was to see Quincy and his wife in Jackson. I thought of how the Mrs. Didn’t feel well enough to have dinner and beers and conversation on that November night I stopped in Mississippi to meet the Q. While he never shared with me any details of his lovely wife’s illness, I have never sensed pain from/in Q. I never sensed that he carried the burden that many people with a dying spouse carry like 80-pound backpacks. He was reverential and respectful and always loving towards his mate. But never a “woe is me” was uttered.

When I tried to say something meaningful in respects yesterday, I realized how insufficient words are. I wondered about how we humans have experienced billions of deaths over thousands of years yet we lack any truly comforting words after death.

Why don’t we have a standard statement that will make everything OK—why can’t we say a few words and have things actually be better?

I left Jackson, Mississippi the next morning last November with a new friendship, a half-dozen smelly beer glasses from The Bulldog, and a learned respect for common sense. I programmed the OnStar system in my little Chevy for the outskirts of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and headed out. I arrived at the McDonalds near to BJ’s place where he picked me up for a “grocery trip.”

The two of us drove central Tennessee for a couple hours and hit four of the best pork and chicken smokers’ establishments in the South. We also established the foundation of one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

OK, and let me also say that Beej was the assigned vetting agent for Squatlo and the Reckmonster—the toughest of the three of them whose job it was to make certain I wasn’t an ax murderer from Texas who’d driven 1,800 miles to thin the blogger population in Central Tennessee.

Which reminds me. I read that some silly assholes in Texas have gotten enough signatures on a Petition to Secede From The Union to make it official. Got enough other assholes to sign it to force the President to look at it.

Dear President Obama:

I hear that Texas wishes to leave the extreme discomfort of The United States of America in order to form what they consider to be a more perfect union—a union of one. Please grant their wish.

Sincerely (and I mean it),

Butcher Einstein “Mooner” Johnson, American Citizen and Former Texan”

Do those silly asshole even realize how fast Mexico will invade the fucking New Republic of Texas? Davy Crockett and the boys stole Tejas from the Mexicans and the Mexicans want it back. Don’t know why they want it back, they just do.

I wonder if Rick the Prick Perry would lead the Texas Brigade in the second defense of the Alamo. Take his Texas Aggie sword out of mothballs and lead the charge.

And that reminds me to say, “Hip-hooray for the Aggies football team!!!” Kicked that Alabalama butt and did it in Tuskalooser. And something just hit me.

I have always wondered about the elephant in the room with the Crimson Tide. Might that be because the word “tusk” is in their hometown’s name? What if the actual name was Tiskaloosa? Maybe they’d have Miss Manners as their mascot.

The morning I got up to leave BJ’s house exactly one year ago today, he fixed me several magnificent breakfast sandwiches. Bacon, ham, eggies biscuits…

One year ago today. Wow.

Anyway, our country will remain in good hands for another four years and we can all be entertained as we watch the right-wing talking heads explode. Manana, y’all.

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8 Responses to “Thinking Of Q; Reflections On A Year Ago”

  1. squatlo says:

    Can’t believe it’s been an entire year since you darkened our doorways, ate all our pork, and bitched about the room temperatures.
    My digestive system is only just now beginning to calm down…

    How flime ties.

    The death of Quincy’s wife has been one of several eye-openers here at Chateau Squatlo. One of our best friends in the world (BJ will confirm) is currently in a hospital in Nashville with a scary-as-shit prognosis awaiting test results, and it hit him out of the blue without the slightest hint of warning. My age, my occupation, my bad habits…and he’s on a bed being monitored around the clock and I’m sitting here bitching because my lovely wife keeps the house so fucking cold.

    When you’re facing the direst of circumstances, or if you’ve just lost the love of your life (as with Q) it puts the rest of this trivial shit into perspective. Politics takes a back seat. Worrying about your college football team’s ineptitude suddenly seems like the most banal waste of concern on the planet. And yet we still don’t have sufficient words to pay homage to someone’s loss, or to do justice for their concerns when a doctor could come through the door at any moment with the worst news possible.

    What it reminds me to do is this: tell the people I love how much I love them, and do it more often. And to spend more time around happy, well-intentioned people who didn’t turn out to be axe murderin’ assholes from Texas after all.

    C’mon back up, Don. We need to drag your butt around the state to see some of the sights this time. I propose a chalet in the Smoky Mountains, complete with adult beverage, pulled pork, a few recreational narcotics, and enough time for us to completely forget how fragile life really is… and how much we’d miss if we weren’t hanging around to watch it happen.

    Good post. And Fuck Rick Perry.

  2. Mooner Johnson needs sexing says:

    Squat. Hugs and squeezes and kind words gain value in the wake of Quincy’s kind of loss. I’m trying to see how I can get back to Vol Land around my schedule. The dogs are insisting they come this time and that’s a problem I don’t want to confront.

  3. squatlo says:

    Shit, Mooner (or is it Moo now?) BRING ‘EM WITH YA! Bill’s dog Ruger prolly loves little yippy dogs in his house!

  4. bj says:

    Has it been a year, now? Seems like much longer … Don’t you hate a buncha’ sniveling hangers on cock blocking the REAL commentators you might have drop by to visit yer enchanted ass? Day-um! I really LIKE the chalet idear of Squatty’s … but’cept there’ll have to be more Barnyard Buzzard THIS time around … I don’t think I’m fully purged of porcine products a full year passed ….
    Stopped over to Q’s myself and scribbled a few werds, but like I told Squatlo when we went to visit our long time friend in hospital … It’s times like these that I WUSHT I believed in God. Y’know … so that I could feel like I was doing something to help. The sickness of a close friend or the passing of a loved one is always werse on the people who love them … being unable to affect the situation and all. In this day of knowing how to get things done, it sure gives an otherwise skillfully proficient man a floundering feeling of impotence …

  5. squatlo says:

    Beej, you’re a poet masking himself in the vernacular of idiots. I like that in a person. Well said.

    Mooner, get your ass back up here while we’re all still above ground and frisky. Bring Scoops, I’ve got some killer home-made salsa the Empress made last summer.

    Bring the dog. I’ll find out how to make the vid function on my 5D work for Ruger’s meal.

  6. Great post, Mooner. I was so shocked to hear about Q’s wife – you’re right, no one would have ever been the wiser about his plight. That’s what makes him such a respectable guy – he deals with things straight up. No nonsense. No whining. Just amazing.

    And HOLY SHIT! Has it been a year since BlogCon 2011? DAMN!!! I feel like the wayward baby sister who goes off and checks back in with the big bros from time to time. You guys are a helluva group of dudes! And your better halves are some rad ass chicks too!! (Maybe Mooner will bring his Missus next time) All of you guys give your Mrs. a big hug and a bigger kiss – for Q. I know I’ve been hugging the Hooligan a bit tighter these last couple of days.

  7. Mooner Johnson needs sexing says:

    One, and All. Look at what al has happened in just the last year. It’s a microcosym of an entire lifetime. BTW–how, inthefuck, do you spell mictocosym?

  8. squatlo says:

    The Reckmonster speaks! Release the hounds!

    Michelle, we miss your pithy blog commentary, so you are hereby ordered (!) to commence writing, stat! One of our compadres accused me of having something to do with your deafening silence, since you seem to have dropped off the blobber at about the same time I gave it up.

    But I’m better now. Ask anyone.

    “Where have you gone, Joe Dimaggio?”

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