Barn Raisin

There is an audio recording linked through this article's title. It is hosted at Google Docs. Please note that the recording says "right here in Salt Lake City", but when listening, fill in the name of your own community, since the idea is to do this in every city!

If I have two apples, and I give you one, we each have an apple. If I have two ideas, and I give you one, I still have two, and now you have one more.

I went out for a walk yesterday (2009/03/19), to face the insanity, and brought along my digital audio recorder. I think you'll enjoy sharing this trip with a few others. It's kind of a long and rambling shaggy dog story... just the kind of thing to play on a long drive on down the Interstate, oil-k?

The man playing the banjo is Airon Kallins (not shore how he likes to spell it), and of coarse, I'm Karl Hegbloom. Please, share this freely... It would be most awesome...

I had an interesting idea today... I saw a sign at the LDS temple South Visitor Center that had the word “Holiness” written on it... What if you broke the words differently... You know how fast spanish sounds when you don't knaw it well yet? So you can't always tell where the word endings are? How about “Ho Lines[s]” instead? Does it change the meaning? Hoe a row!

When I was a boy growing up in rural Wisconsin, we had a family cow, shared with an Aunt and Uncle across the road from us. It was my job to milk her after school. She was a Jersey cow, and we milked her with a Surge milking machine — the kind with a tank under it that hangs from a strap and bail hung over the cow's back. It operated off of an electric vacuum pump.

One winter there was an ice-storm that knocked out the electrical power for a weak ore sew, and sew, in order to milk the cow, we had to plug the vacuum pump into a gasoline engine driven generator. The ventilation was not quite adequate, so Buttercup and I had to breath a certain amount of the exhaust. After a day or so, everyone in both families noticed that the milk tasted like car exhaust.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Here we are all breathing about “five packs a day” of exhaust. I wonder what's in Mommy's milk?