Last weekend, my friend Heather and I spent four days as pretend hillbillies.  We’ve always wanted to go to the Deep South– land of deliciously heavy foods, porch drinking, adorable floppy-lipped hound dogs, and people with two first names and cousins for lovers (let’s forget the racism and gross ignorance

Only a deep man love for Stuart – you’re ok too –  can explain the effort of getting this out this early on Saturday. I’ve only slept a few hours in the past 2 days and some of those were in the backseat of an Echo on St. Mark’s and