Axis of Weevil-style! Many of you know (at least in the virtual sense) Larry Anderson of KudzuAcres--noted bass player, developer of the Free Mercedes promotion, occasional patron of Billy Joe Bob's BBQ Emporium--but many others of you still might not realize Larry is an entrepreneur, which is a French word for "smart American."
Despite the economic gloom of late, Larry's company managed to do pretty well last year, and is on track to do even better this year. His business advice is distilled down in this article from The Huntsville Times.
Oddly enough, none of his business advice involves blogging. Then again, none of it involves rebuilding Weber carburetors, either. Or gunfire. Or really attractive women in swimwear.
Hmm.
Maybe being an entrepreneur ain't what it's cracked up to be.
ANYway, congratulations to Larry, his partners, and to their employees on their success!
Fourth-grade class bill passes Alabama House panel to make manatee state's marine mammal
Possumblog Kitchens reminds you nothing helps you celebrate the state's official marine mammal like a big plateful of Cornatees, the cornbread-battered, deep-fried, manatee-on-a-stick treat that EVERYone loves!
…there is nothing so tantalizing as snow. Just far enough north to know for a certainty that it could snow, if only it would snow. Just far enough south to make it an equal certainty that it will never snow this year, and probably won’t ever snow again EVER, and your life is ruined by the absence of powder stuff from the sky. And to make it worse, you remember the few times it DID snow, and in the deep recesses of your memory from when you were just a little kid (you know, three years ago), it was the bestest snow of all time, and you played outside for five weeks, and the snow was fifty feet high, and you made a snowman that weighed a billion tons.
And then, when you least expect it, after hardening yourself to never ever trust TV weathermen, you wake up one Sunday morning, on the first day of March (!), and the whole world went white.
And then your parents make you get up and go to church.
Because, despite the fact that the trees are white and there’s a good three inches of fat wet flakes on the ground, the roads are clear. So you have to go and sit through class and church, hoping against hope that once you come out of the building, it won’t have all melted away.
And it didn’t!
You can barely wait to get home, and you figure it won’t hurt if you get to go out to eat first, because at least now you can see the snow and you can tell it’s all still there.
BUT THEN—you come out of the restaurant, and the snow packed sidewalk you encountered when you first walked in is now dry and clear—and the snow’s dropping off the power lines! AGGGHHHH!
You get home, throw off your good clothes, get on something else you think will be warm, and run outside before it’s all gone.
Nothing like Southern kids in the snow. Clothes wet through and through, soggy cotton gloves, filthy jeans from flopping down in the melting wet snow which covers a now-sodden mush of red clay and grass, snowballs made of equal parts dirt, pine straw, grass, possibly some frozen dog poop (well, it looked like rocks, sorta), and snow, packed into ice as dense as depleted uranium, ready to make your siblings cry when it comes punching into their frozen noses. You wish it would snow forever--and then you begin to notice you can’t feel your face or fingers. You wonder if you’ve got frostbite like that guy in that TV show whose nose turned black and fell off. So you figure it might be good to go inside and eat popcorn and watch a movie and thaw out.
Maybe it’ll snow again tomorrow!