Some Kind Of Relief

Well tonight was the first Thursday of August, whereas I go monthly at 6:30 PM to attend my sworn duty as an elected member of Stanford's City Council. I knew better when I ran the last time , but was on Diovan so my frivolous behavior must be excused. There is probably nothing more frustrating than serving in such a capacity , especially in a little village of 3000 people. Most of the other 5 members I can get along with ,and genuinely like. I said most. Tonight I came home and put on Rod Stewart Live at Albert Hall, and listened to it very loudly. Somehow "Hot Legs" at Nascar levels has a cathartic effect.How can someone like Rod Stewart continue to be so successful at his age? He's still as good as when he first sang Maggie. Maybe better. It's so fascinating that the long legged girls singing with him weren't even born when he did Gasoline Alley.Somehow all the frustrations of the past month come to a head during city council, much like a massive , ugly pimple ready to erupt in putrid violence upon the unsuspecting masses. I do know with certainty that I will not be able to swear the oath about not having partaken of a duel after this year. WE went to The Brickyard 400 this past Sunday, and Jimmy Johnson crashed and went down in flames, much to the delight of the crowd. Tony Stewart went on to win and was fined for saying a jubilant"Bullshit" on National TV. He was fined $25000 for the slip-up.I'm glad they're not following me at work because I would be fined over $1 million before 9 AM on any given morning.The Nascar crowd was at its usual colorful best, mostly a youthful under 30 to maybe 40; mostly drunk on blue cans of beer and smoking lots of cigarettes. Directly below me was a chubby, bubblebutted lass with tight, tight big butted jeans, mabe size 18s with her lower back tattoo strategically peeking out. She was maybe 22 or so years old and would probably have blown a .2 0n the machine, but that would have been moderate for her colleagues who were Junior No. 8 fans. The young lads were all baby faced and chubby with their caps turned backwards in a rakeish manner. I hope they got home ok, but maybe they sobered up in the 2 hour wait as 250,000 spectators left Indiana. Actually the best show is watching the fans as they stream outpast the stopped traffic.Nearly everyone has on their racer's numbers or colors. Most are Tony, Jeff Gordon, Or Dale Junior. Don't believe those commercials with the babes after Kasey Kayne . Kasey is about as popular as a Toyota at Bristol. These fans stumbling to their cars are in every drunken state ever invented by mankind. One just keeps falling to the ground, another pees on a neighborhood fence while the owners watch. Hell he may have been the owner. One lad has eaten his giant turkey leg and has it sitting on top of his car. Massive numbers have colorful sunburns from sitting drunk in the relentless sun. Sandy Kay went for her first race and came through unscathed, at least physically. I think Timmy had his eyes on young bubblebutt but was inhibited by the fact that she was 40 years younger than him. Dave slept through part of the race. I think he missed last year's ugly girl that he befriended. In hind sight I felt better surrounded by a quarter million boisterous drunks at Indy than at City Council Tonight.The drunks made a lot more sense. Wake up Maggie I've got something to say to you. Thanks Rod and hot legged girls.