No matter what you think about Bill Clinton, it was fascinating to see some of the old shtick resurface this week in the wake of his Democratic Convention Speech. Bubba's long-winded. Bubba's a wonk. Bubba's charming as all get out. I'm not looking to stir up anyone's favored beehive (or am I?). But I do have another Bubba trope to offer that's I could see being slid back onto the table. Not the adults' table. I'm talking about a folding table, banished to and ignored in another room few people venture into anymore. Still...remember Whitewater? Well, I was shocked SHOCKED to stumble back into that tangle of stories when a surprisingly colorful figure from that whole overwrought saga came across my radar this week. That figure is Parker Dozhier - an Arkansan and self-confessed Clinton foe. Actually I'm talking past tense - Dozhier passed away last week. I never spoke with the man, but I'd been meaning to contact him for months after being told to seek him out by a writer I met at BEA back in June. It was only when I was looking to say a little something to that writer (Steve Rinella, who has a new book out as of this week) that I searched for the proper spelling of this suggested source - Dozier, Dozer, Do'h-seer. From there, I end up here. Polluting the water. With my tongue firmly in cheek.

Just goes to show that some linkages get all up in your face - or simper off into the margins without ever getting their due attention - after the fact of realizing how completely awesome it would have been to have made that call. The moral of this surely confusing story? If you've got a call on your list that might get made today, although it can probably wait until at least, well...it is awfully nice outside and the weekend's almost here in earnest...I'm here to say that you shouldn't delay making that call. You never know who you might end up chatting with across the ol' Bait Shop counter. Know what I mean?