'With a Rebel Yell, She Cried . . .'

Suzanna Logan is nowadays sojourning in my hometown of Atlanta, where young hearts go to be broken:

Rather than being satisfied and thankful that God has placed me in the position where He wants me to be right now, which just happens to involve some pretty mundane tasks, I want more. More responsibilities, more recognition, more, more, more. . . .

You should read the whole thing. An ambitious young person's craving for "more, more, more" is a tendency to which an aged megalomaniac like me can relate, as I pursue this insane scheme to take over the entire freaking blogosphere.

We are all born with a God-shaped hole in our hearts, and it is a sinful but entirely commonplace error to attempt to fill that void with earthly things, including career status and achievement.

That Miss Logan should so earnestly resist that temptation is, to me, most remarkable. For I think there is nothing that an ugly man covets so much as beauty, with which Miss Logan has been so richly blessed. Plain and homely people often envy the beautiful -- how else to explain the unseemly viciousness with which Sarah Palin has been attacked? -- but envy is the most foolish emotion.

How many times have I been surprised to discover that someone whom I might have regarded enviously was, unbeknownst to me, enduring some secret and horrible pain in their life? After numerous repetitions of this pattern, I ought not be surprised any longer, yet I always am. We who are poor, obscure, weak and ugly always imagine how endlessly wonderful life is for the rich, famous, influential and beautiful.

That we somehow find comfort in this fantasy -- if only through the perverse rationalization of sour grapes -- says more about us than about the objects of our envy.

'Being called racist is the new black'

So said my cousin Brian Buchanan in a Facebook message last week. Brian still lives down home near Atlanta and, last time I heard, was working as a bar bouncer.

His dad "Buck" married my cousin Deb -- I still remember their wedding, a small ceremony at my Aunt Pat's Cobb County home. Buck had been studying engineering at Southern Tech in Marietta, and joined the Army. Buck worked at the White House during the 1970s (he knows Rosalyn Carter's Secret Service code-name) and served with the 101st Airborne during Operation Desert Storm before retiring with the rank of major.

Brian is 38 and -- pay attention, lovely ladies of Atlanta -- he's single. So if you ladies like your fellows big, strong and tattooed, make him your Facebook friend.

Progress Is the Root of All Evil(I'm in Atlanta this weekend)

Here in my Georgia hometown, I'm staying on the fourth floor of a Comfort Inn hotel, which sits on the property that was once the farm where my childhood friend Scott Umphrey lived.

Scott used to get up early in the morning before school and feed the horses. Our Boy Scout troop camped here. Skyview Drive was a dirt road for most of its length and Thornton Road was only two lanes.

Now, it's a Comfort Inn, a Shoney's, a Burger King, et cetera. Sing it, General Bullmoose:

Progress is the root of all evil.
Progress is the cause of it all. . . .
Bring back the good old days!

BTW, I'll be in the Atlanta area through Saturday. If anybody's up for a StacyPalooza, we'll convene at 4 p.m. Friday afternoon at an undisclosed restaurant in Buckhead. My good buddy Phil Kent -- the Jedi master who mentored me in advanced schmooze methodology -- has yet to name the location.

Saturday evening has yet to be planned. If you are a reader in the Atlanta area, e-mail Smitty, who is in telephone communication with me and can provide location information.