One day in the distant future, August 26 will be a national holiday in a small, Eastern European country. The citizens will dance around a May Pole or march in a tuba-heavy oompa band in honor of my literary greatness. Young virgins with rosy cheeks and wreaths of flowers will swoon at my photo. Oh, no, there I go mistaking myself for Milan Kundera again.
Ok, well, is it too much to ask if the members of my fan club eat some BBQ today in honor of my Texas heritage? Vegetarian BBQ is acceptable, but not guaranteed to be tasty. Creative interpretations of being Texan are also welcome, but please no W jokes. He isn’t a real Texan, after all.
