Flew into those Twin Cities this morning, grabbed myself a Ford Edge rental rig and headed over to grab Ryno for some chow. Turns out the one-and-only Chuck Prophet was in town pinch-hitting for Mark Mallman’s latest super song marathon concert. 78 hours this time. That shit’s wild. I remember being impressed with his 24 hour ordeal some years back. 78? Wow.

So we grabbed Chuck, had some mexican vittles and laughs in St. Paul, then got him back for his set with Mallman at the Turf Club. Prophet ripped the shit out of the place playing “Every solo I know.” That’s the kind of shit that goes down when Mallman is doing 78 hours in a row. Wild times.

Then Ryno and I split, I dropped that halfwit off at his flat and I hightailed it down to Mankato in the dark Minnesota night. A balmy night. October in Minnesota right? What the fuck is up with the heat wave? Bring on the chilly stuff, nature. Please. Don’t mess with my October.

Made it down to Lake Washington just north of Mankato to Harlan’s lake house. Incredible place. Quiet surroundings with a breathtaking view, beautifully remodeled with the most incredible 180-pound great dane named “Ernie” watching over the compound. Incredible dog. Prob’ly the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. Instant love for that pooch. Coolest ears going.

Goodnight from Mankato. You students better be ready for me tomorrow! I’ve got some choice words for ya.