This will wind around to NASCAR, honest.

Mention liking Rush, and once done explaining you're referring to the Canadian prog rock trio and not the political commentator reactions tend to fall along three lines.  Either: 1) your audience will never have heard of them, in which case they're undoubtedly under thirty; 2) you'll be greeted like a long-lost brother who's finally reunited with family; or 3) the response will be something akin to Mr. Yuck come to life.  Which in itself is a neat trick given that the Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh from whence the green-faced naysayer emanated no longer so much as mentions it on their Web site.  But I digress (and plan on doing a lot more digressing from now on; more on that in a bit).

In the odd chance you don't remember what Mr. Yuck looked like.

Leaving the debate over Rush's artistic merits aside, as any attempt to persuade one side about the other's validity is beyond futile, a couple of songs by them come to mind.  One, The Spirit Of Radio which is my favorite song by the band, has among the many pearls strung along its lyrical necklace this moment of concise commentary:

One likes to believe in the freedom of music
But glittering prizes and endless compromises
Shatter the illusion of integrity

Runs rather parallel to writing about NASCAR, what say?

Traditional media, new media, no difference.  Kiss up to the heavy hitters (read: Jayski), strike the occasional "controversial" pose by riffing on a topic that appears edgy but in reality is completely safe because it has no possibility of costing you points in the unholy fraternity of LookAtMe--SQUEE!.con... excuse me, .com (the new car, Tony Stewart vs. the media, etc.), try to juggle reporting and commentary without actually saying anything in the latter that might not sit well with the powers that be.  Play the game and play it well.  And above all else, avoid honesty.

Well, eff it.  I've messed with that mess long enough.  Time to get back where I belong and start being me again, for better or worse.  Bring on the spinning tangents and dust off the pulpit.  I'm back.  If I'm not being mad, bad, and dangerous to know I'm not being myself.

That all said, on to NASCAR.  In a minute.  First, back to Rush.

Although drummer Neil Peart's lyrics often wander off into metaphysical near-moonbattery, when focused he can put together simple yet poignant life observations such as this moment from the Counterparts album:

I knew he was different in his sexuality
I went to his parties as a straight minority
It never seemed a threat to my masculinity
He only introduced me to a wider reality

As the years went by, we drifted apart
When I heard that he was gone
I felt a shadow cross my heart

But he's nobody's hero
Saves a drowning child
Cures a wasting disease
Hero... lands the crippled airplane
Solves great mysteries
Hero... not the handsome actor
Who plays a hero's role
Hero... not the glamour girl
Who'd love to sell her soul
If anybody's buying
Nobody's hero

I didn't know the girl, but I knew her family
All their lives were shattered in a nightmare of brutality
They try to carry on, try to bear the agony
Try to hold some faith in the goodness of humanity
As the years went by, we drifted apart
When I heard that she was gone
I felt a shadow cross my heart

But she's nobody's hero
Is the voice of reason against the howling mob
Hero... is the pride of purpose
In the unrewarding job
Hero... not the champion player
Who plays the perfect game
Hero... not the glamour boy
Who loves to sell his name
Everybody's buying
Nobody's hero

As the years went by, we drifted apart
When I heard that you were gone
I felt a shadow cross my heart

But he's nobody's hero
Saves a drowning child
Cures a wasting disease
Hero... lands the crippled airplane
Solves great mysteries
Hero... not the handsome actor
Who plays a hero's role
Hero... not the glamour girl
Who'd love to sell her soul
If anybody's buying
Nobody's hero

Hero

Which does relate to NASCAR, if you think about it.

NASCAR was built on the concept of Everyman as hero, the notion that those who saw no contradiction in beer-drinkin' and hell-raisin' on Saturday night followed by church-goin' and God-fearin' on Sunday morning could from among themselves raise up sports icons doing what the crowd believed they could do yet in their heart knew was far beyond their ability.  It was constructed on the foundation of fandom as family, people brought together by a common cause and once together extending to each other the notion of country neighborhood community on a grand scale.  Everyone pitches in to help raise the barn, and when someone gives a come to Jesus talk the term is used literally.  No wonder it's never caught on in the big city.

Although the quality (and I use the term so loosely it rattles) of racing this year has been almost without fail measurable solely by the absence thereof, the sense of connection and community has persevered.  The people of NASCAR's fan base are the sport's true heroes, if for no other reason than patiently enduring a dismal season in the belief better racing is forthcoming.

Going forward it is my intent to reinvigorate this blog's connection with the fan base -- that's you -- by getting back to my irascible but occasionally warm and fuzzy self.  Time to revive the rants and fire up the forays into full-bore bizarre ramblings designed for nothing more than sharing a chuckle or two.  The podcasts will continue to have songs and sermon worked in amidst the NASCAR commentary, and yes I'll have real live news and live race threads and such like I have now.  But that's not enough, and I apologize to one and all for having mailed it in for way too long.  As noted earlier, the tangents and pulpit are back in business.  I'm back, I'm bad, and I'm nationwide.  Come along, fellow merry pranksters.  Let's ride this bus together.