My dad is. That's who. The man ordered his first set of encyclopedias, filled out the order form all by himself, at the tender, monkey-eared age of four. He's been following the pulse of the earth and its inhabitants' ebbs and flows ever since. He's covered mutilated cow mysteries, French new wave film, ancient rivers, serial killers, homegrown terrorism, military militias, neo-nazis, the rippling wakes of the Iraq war, the religious right, and much more. Right now, he's following the quivering shrapnel of Mexico's drug wars. He introduced me to almost all things beautiful and new and cool...music. Check. Film. Check. Literature. Check. Art. Check. Cloudy climes and starry skies. Check. A poet's heart. Check. So. Check out his blog, July Dogs. Honestly, all daughter bias aside, he's been a step ahead on our country's darkest trends since before the day I was born. Someday we'll catch up with him. For now, just try to keep up.