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In preparation for this biography, we did a little research in a vanity thread on Mudboy Slim and learned a few important facts. "His favorite sport is noodlin'. But only after he's imbibed a little Jack..." (I have no idea what this means.) He owes several Freepers $, or so they seem to think, or so they seem to claim. Well, I suppose that's not newsworthy: that's all of us, huh? We are not, like Terry McAuliffe, the "Party of the People" limousine liberals. Shoot, we can't even spell limousine correctly. But enough about us, more about Slim: Muddy's bookmarks say it all. He's a very eclectic guy. His threads and posts range in scope from "Why Santana Should've Stopped With Abraxas" to "WEN HO LEE: VICTIM OR SPY? (Notra Trulock Report)" to "Sleeping With the Enemy - STORM the SENATE - The Whole Kit and Kaboodle" to "Different Voices: The Media in Tibet." He is one of the chief perpetrators/caretakers of the Black Thread, which should be a whole essay unto itself. These threads -- you can see the most recent one here [post URL] -- are [describe]. He is Something about a contest he ran where the prize was a signed copy of an Ann Coulter book.

Oh my goodness.

A Yankee from where, Kansas City? Noodlin' is, of course, Mudboy's favorite sport. But I'm being redundant, I know. It involves getting inebriated enough to reach into an adult catfish's den in a river bank, find his open mouth, insert your hand in through his mouth and getting a handful of gills. But not too inebriated to bring him out and throw him in a burlap bag to take home for dinner.

I've heard that sometimes a catfish den (flatheads are supposed to be best) can sometimes be home to water moccasins. Or as some folk around here call them, "mossacins".

Wouldn't know if Mud has ever had that experience, although I heard an anecdote to that effect. Supposedly he screeched loud enough that they heard him all the way up to the plutonium factory, and he threw a couple of adult "mossacins" who were in the throes of the physical act of mating all the way to the opposite bank of the bayou.

But that's just hearsay, of course.