I considered writing about cops today, but in the interest of keeping things light-hearted around here (because I’m sure you can depress yourself another way) I’d like to tell you the good news. Have you taken the Hoot into your heart? Have you tasted the Risky Biscuit sacrament? If not, it’s time you listen to the Risky Biscuit Hayseed Hoot. Can I get an amen? Because I ran out yesterday.
Now, I’m not usually prone to such religious fervor without the aid of acid, but the Hoot has nursed and rebuked me through many a hangover and wide-eyed, shutter-peeking morning. Outlaw country and bluegrass delivered faithfully by the Honorable Hayseed Don has repeatedly spoken to me, letting me know in my lowest times that I am not alone. Songs with lyrics like “rock bottom / population: 1” and “I say when I drink / what I think when I’m sober” are a salve to a puking fool who can’t remember yet what he’s going to regret.
A good friend of mine turned me on to the Hoot over twenty years ago. At that time I was addicted to Slayer, Sepultura, and The Doors. I foolishly thought country music was for the kids spitting chew into the heaters at school and driving around in expensive, jacked-up trucks. As usual, I was terribly mistaken.
I’ve listened to this radio show every Saturday I could, and I listened to some of it today. Do yourself a favor, even if you think you don’t like banjos: tune in to 88.7 FM (if you’re from around here) at 11 am (if you can get to the radio without getting the spins) and give the Hoot a listen. Really listen—for a while—like you would to a crazy guy talking to you on the bus, or writing you a blog.