Internet, let me tell you what’s awesome: Slinking into a steamy tent that’s throbbing, old-timey revival style, and watching a man named Super Chikan and his trio of bluesy ladies jam on their bedazzled git-ars and diddly-bos just enough to get the crowd all worked up into a clapping, hip-shaking frenzy before dinner time.

Oh, Memphis. How I love you.

I’ve been mucking my way through the park all evening — yes, mucking, because that’s what you do when the ground is the consistency of melting ice cream — and snapping as many pictures as possible between downpours. Downpours, plural. Have you heard? It’s been raining a little bit down here at Tom Lee. But most everyone’s got galoshes and ponchos and umbrellas and beer.

So I think the kids are all right.