Finally ....

I meet someone who agrees The Fairport Convention produced the best Bob Dylan cover of all time with their spin on "Million Dollar Bash." Thanks to CK of the St. Louis American for that honor, and for 90 minutes of great conversation.

After a daylong exercise in rural healthcare, unwinding with a little wine and journalistic bitching about the continued watering down of our profession brought sweet relief. Kansas, Missouri, playing Stache's in the mid-1990's, bitching about the arrogant buffoonery of Kinky Friedman ... some days, what you need is unknown until it throws its first punch. The old-school journalism types who could trade verbal barbs with the grumpiest Krumlauf emerged from their shells, and what news hound wouldn't enjoy such a display? There is still greatness in journalism - as its staunchest defenders shred their replacements to pieces for dumbing down the material to please non-readers.

A few hours later the best networking session of my life has passed.

The outcasts of the Rural Healthcare Workshop huddled at Murry's over cocktails and dinner, where no topice was too mundane or disgusting -- from network types complaining about accommodations in small Iowa towns to advertising staff defecating on the bathroom floor in Fargo, we hit it all. One table collected, Springfield, Mo., Athens, Ga. by way of Boston, Fargo, Des Moines, and Nashville by way of Columbos. Even the Richard Ades of Iowa chimed in, refusing to let anyone stomp on his toes.

The chicken poblano blasted my sinuses open for a few hours, and with departure the next step after a little sleep, I wondered if fate might drop me in Columbia again. You need a reason to set down here, and I hope another arises.