A visit to Watson

 When you host a podcast called "The Watsonian Weekly," you can't help but fixate upon that not-so-uncommon name. And a couple of weeks ago, during a trip for work, I just had to take a certain off-ramp.

This one.

So I had the driver take the exit. Yes, "the driver." I had to take these lovely pictures through the windshield. I'll let you imagine my driver having a chauffeur's cap and appropriate chauffeur-wear.

And of course, it wasn't right their off the interstate. There were still two miles to go. Suspense,

And there it was.

Plainly under the control of the Freemasons. Or the Baptists. The Methodists seem to be fading from power, and the 4-H prefers to keep their influence under the radar until the four horsemen appear.

One could tell Watson remembered the Moriarty 221-Burning of 1891.

The necessary post. The pavement in front is nicely over the neighborhood soils.

And a place to keep tin dispatch boxes.

And, of course, that ultimate Moriarty protection device, the high place involving water that you put your name on just to taunt the former crimelord like "Watson isn't afraid of heights. Just come up and see, Professor Moriarteee! What? Too scared now? Yeah, I thought so.

Sooooo, that's what you can expect to see if you go to Watson, Illinois. I forgot to pick up any dirt to go with my Sherlock, Texas dirt. Not going to compare it to Watson, Oklahoma, the other Watson I've been to. Nobody at this Watson talking about Don Hobbs all the time. No grade school with a tiger mascot. But that makes two, and now I'm probably going to have to do more.

We'll see. Not really a good source of podcast audio this time, especially if I forget to record there. But next Watson? Who knows?