Bill Murray tail-gating at Clemson, buying potatoes at a local market? Bill, if you are going to be buying potatoes anywhere in Olathe, would you please let me know?

I’m not getting anywhere in my efforts to find someone who knows someone who knows Bill Murray. Even my tire repair guy doesn’t know Bill Murray.

The baristas at the Kansas Coffee Company recognized my Bill Murray lapel badge, and have agreed that the next time I am in, probably for a delicuous Wild-Cat (read tuna) sandwich, I can leave my business card and that way they will have my telephone number readily at hand and they can call me the minute Bill Murray steps through the doorway. I only live about seven-eight blocks away. They have promised me that they will call me immediately.

My tire guy doesn't know Bill Murray, either. Tim -- that's not his name, but that's what he'll be called because that's the name of the company -- was very interested in my lapel badge, a picture of Bill Murray which I think is from The Rum Diary, but I can't be sure. Tim leaned 'way across the counter to get a better look at my lapel badge, admired it profusely, but sadly, confessed that he doesn't know Bill Murray personally. I won't hold it against him -- I'll still take my vehicles in there for tire service.

Had a trial run of the first chapter of what I'm calling Untitled -- for now. It was read by one of our leaders and critiqued by the members of the writers' group. One of the critiques was that I should change the chili stain on Sam Jack's shirt -- Sam Jack is the soccer coach -- to pancake syrup. Heck, I thought that marked Sam Jack right off the bat as being a non-conformist, eating chili for breakfast. Pancake syrup for breakfast is so ordinary, exactly what Sam Jack is not.