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  • The Troubadour
    [Good Morrow, One and All. It s abs-sole-glute-lee Positivity Wednesday, and today s good chemistry is kicking in like alchemy used to during my time. Back
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 15, 2011
      [Good Morrow, One and All. It's abs-sole-glute-lee Positivity Wednesday,
      and today's good chemistry is kicking in like alchemy used to during my
      time. Back in my Middle Ages, we didn't have banks or toxic mortgages or
      foreclosures, no. We had sorcerers and sorcerers' apprentices. All the
      apprentice wizened sages used to carry their motherloads of base metal up
      long winding staircases to those dark topmost tower rooms of the citadel to
      locate their sorcerers (none of whom, it seems, could ever tolerate working
      their magic on lower floors) who then--tra-la, tra-lee---simply turned it
      all into gold. Poof! I know. I was the custodian hired to sweep up the
      citadel. Which brings us to today's magician. He is Herb Hedgecock--who
      lately had a birthday (tra-la, tra-lee) but before that had a wedding (like,
      wowie wow)!! He married a wonderful bride who is so blasted young, she has
      no freaking idea what went on during his Middle Ages. But I do, of course,
      because I was apprenticed to him. I, along with Say-rah Tynes, had enrolled
      in his magic class, and he then instructed us mysteriously well through one
      full loop of the Barkley Marathons--which took, of course, one whole
      semester to complete.
      You can find him here:
      (Scroll down until you reach his name) and you can read his medieval
      accounting of his alchemy here:
      And naturally he's conjured up his very own webpage:
      And here is what he looks like:
      Morehead's Assistant Professor of Chemistry and Ultrarunner of some
      noteworthy note troubly deserves today's "treatment" as TMIMITW, ya think?]

      His teaching abilities are very well known. At a time when most college
      kids flunk out to start up social networking websites and become
      billionaires, his undergrad chemistry classes now boast five Fulbright and
      several dozen Roads Scholars.

      His ultrarunning abilities are also well known and documented. In 2002 he
      double-footedly covered almost more miles of Tennessee's Last Annual
      Vol-State 262-mile road race than almost everyone else in the field. He
      inspired legions of followers who attempted this later. Well, he inspired
      at least one.

      He is known the world over as the author of "Redneck Wisdom For The Day," a
      clever near-daily hillbilly-wisecracking ditty that predated Larry the Cable
      Guy, and no doubt inspired him too.

      He has a marvelous and peculiar hands-on-in-the-woods-ok-call-it-a-jungle
      pedagogy. He leads his pupils out into it, scoops up examples of indigenous
      flora and fauna--including shivering salamanders--and expects them not to
      eat any of it, starving though they always are. He teaches by example,
      which explains why he's so skinny.

      He routinely pauses also to scoop up coins during his daily runs. One year
      he found enough coin of the realm to have the drawbridge to his citadel
      replaced with a hamster-in-a-wheel-powered swing bridge. Another year
      earned him so much moolah that he was able to replace the whole citadel and
      move into an apartment with his ladylove like normal people.

      He had had the misfortune of previously being ball-and-chained to a goat
      farmer, and he was expected--in addition to teaching his full load of
      alchemy classes--to raise all the goats. But he brilliantly capitalized on
      this exhausting prospect by chopping off their heads, floating them in soup,
      taking their pictures, and selling them to the Rolling Stones.

      Race directing is also something he's attempted and mastered. He has
      somehow successfully pulled off about a dozen KUTS and a half-dozen Arches
      (Kentucky Ultra Trail Sojourn and Kentucky Arches Run, respectively). All
      the women kissed him at every finish line, which explains why his new bride
      has put the kybosh on his Arches and KUTS.

      It was rumored, although never confirmed, that the secret to his running
      success was painting his toenails. Metal-flake shades--such as those used
      to paint race cars--always seemed to work best. Again, all the hottest
      babes from both Arches and KUTS--after their kiss--used to pull out their
      makeup kits and beg him to pull off his shoes and socks.

      He got married to his beautiful new bride high up in the Colorado
      Rockies--perhaps near Leadville, now Golden--far, far away from any more
      cosmetics, drug stores, castles, drawbridges, college chem classes, or other
      hot babes. And his personal happiness level of ecstasy has been levitating
      off the charts ever since.


      "I don't always turn lead into gold; but when I do, I prefer no Yankees be
      in my classroom. Stay wise, my friends."

      ( 00 )

      See (and hear) some originals:


      Also here:

      [and thanks to UltraJohn Price--himself something of a Roads Scholar--for
      supplying this in place of that former long and always-broken hyperlink].

      My mark:

      Rich Limacher
      ("your fiendly French mid-evil lute-and-other-parts-plucker who remembers
      when this...
      ...was taken from the freshly dead body of St. Anthony himself, some 780
      years ago")

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      "Patron Saint of Lost Causes" indeed! No wonder St. Tony's "relic" was
      located in--and stolen from--some church in Californication. It's
      Schwarzenegger's habitat, no? And doesn't HE need a little extra
      pawnbroker's cash right about now?
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