Cook managed a relatively quiet period of rest, but after hustling to Vegas, where he may have played a song (it was hard to tell among all the diagrams of Robbie Kinevel’s Patented Ways to Die[tm]), he’s clearly back to the grindstone, providing new radio interviews.  And of course, said interviews provided a few crumbs of information (official confirmation of a new! puppy!, nostalgic references to queuing! ducklings!), but included some information we’d either already heard or really didn’t need to.

With that in mind, I humbly suggest, Mr. Cook, that you get your manager to seed more questions.  Some of your fans have already come up with some thoughtful, insightful ones about your songwriting process, your stage performances, and your past educational/career decisions and their influence on you now.  You could certainly answer those.

Or, you could answer mine, which will be of no value to anyone, except me, since I will likely laugh.

1. Do you get some sort of Ambassador discount for your QuikTrip boosterism?  Have you asked for one?
2. If you were feeling ambivalent about cursing during your Orlando performance of Man in the Box, why didn’t you sing “pit?”  (For the record, I want to hear you sing “shit” every.single.time.  [Maybe even in songs for which that isn't an original lyric.]  But you do have options.)
3. If David Fincher finally lost his mind and mounted Fight Club as a Broadway musical, would you audition?
4. How often, in high school and college, did friends/acquaintances/fraternity brothers suggest that you “cowboy up, Cook?”  How often did you punch them in the arm for doing so?
5. Would you ever consider getting this for Dublin for use while on tour?

Welcome back to the grind, kid.   Getting tour dates at some point would be swell.

Well, after a couple of weeks that would turn live-and-let-live libertarians into distressed English housematrons announcing “SOME CONSIDERATION FOR OTHERS IS NECESSARY IN COMMUNITY LIFE,” and after Cook himself ran around like a dirty dancing cursing back-masking backslidden Mouseketeer, we’ve reached a pause in the action.

Of course, there was some pleasing news. And it came at just the right time.

So a few of us decided we’d mark the occasion a bit. This was delivered to him in Atlanta.

correspondance after the jump