Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Cultural Conversations in Georgia : Buckshot Jones, Goldman Sachs and Turbo Tax

"Don't you worry about it, boy; you my hoss, even if you don't ever win a race." -Duane Allman

I love this quote. It sounds like something from the benches at Cass Grocery. Duane would have fit right in up there, if you ask me. Disregard the long hair and drug abuse, this guy was as Southern as a fried chicken milkshake with a side of Moon Pie fries. Fellow Southerners ought to "Google" his name and read some of his quotes, there are some real classics there. I wish that somebody famous would suddenly appear up there one day and talk to those guys. I swear, if Dale Earnhardt, Waylon Jennings or George Jones made a cameo in Cassville, every single person on that bench would die a happy man.

It's really funny to compare the conversations of people from different cultures. Since I'm a snooty Cobb County resident now, I've had the dubious honor of frequenting enough Starbucks locations and rubbing elbows with the bluest of blue bloods to get a fair grasp on the important topics facing metro Atlantans today. Take yesterday for example. I was in the Marietta-Dallas Highway Starbucks, where I overheard the conversation of three regular customers sitting near the register. These guys are in this coffee shop every day, believe I know. They sit in the same spot, talking louder than Buckshot Jones's quarter panel smacking against the wall at Bristol after lap 33.

**Sidenote: The Buckshot Jones 32 Rule was invented in Cassville by myself and three other men. Buckshot was a NASCAR driver in the 90's. He hailed from Georgia, went to UGA and was massively popular amongst the citizenry of Cassville. Plus, his name was Buckshot. Anyone named after ammunition, a football coach, a country musician or farm equipment would attain God-like status at Cass Grocery. Poor Buckshot could NEVER finish a race. It always seemed that after Lap 32, Buckshot would just flush all of his racing knowledge, go "deer in the headlights" on us and total his car in a sharp turn. We would watch the races and once lap 32 ended, there would be a collective "oh s***, I hope Dale ain't near Buckshot" and we'd cringe, waiting for him to self destruct.

Anyhow, these men were discussing the pros and cons of Microsoft Word 7 and the efficiency of Turbo Tax:

"I tell ya, Bill, the new drop down menu on the Start icon is much easier to deal with. It combines...."

(interrupting him, 7 decibels louder): "I like the old menu better. I like having the "Format" menu separate."

(another interrruption, 12 decibels louder): "You guys don't know what you are talking about, when you point and click on the Page Tab....."

At this point, I wanted to pour my coffee in my ears. They rambled on and on, but luckily I had my head phones and Ipod, so I turned on Merle Haggard's "I Think I'll Just Stay Here and Drink" to drown out the drivel of some of the most bored individuals in the known universe. Give me a discussion about the latest copper wire theft on Peeples Valley Road. Give me a riveting diatribe about the virtues of using lag screws or laying sprinkler pipe in the mud up in Pine Log. Bring on the arguments about the best food plots for deer in north Bartow, how much PVC glue costs or the size of your fan belt. Microsoft Word? Turbo Tax? Enter Cassville....

"Microsoft? Is that the new tar (tire) that Michelin just put out? Them babies are expeeeensive....whooowee!"

"Turbo Tax. Heh. The IRS can kiss my ass. I'll send them some sawdust this year, they done stole enough from me. Turbo. They'll get my money when I'm gotdam good n ready!"

"They'll put a lien on you, Larry!"

"Lien? What they gonna lien? I own my tools and that Polaris right yonder (points to the back of the truck). They can't have it!" (nods head defiantly, takes a drag from a Marlboro Red)

Same topic. 30 miles apart. Vastly different result.

Let's meander further into the city. I was at Twist (restaurant at Phipps Plaza) eating lunch after Court and had the pleasure of sitting next to two men taking their lunch break at the same time. They were obviously in the insurance/sales business. You know how you can tell? They use large words for no apparent reason in their everyday conversations and name drop, all mixed with their former collegiate vocabulary. These are words they only learned a year ago during their training seminars.

"Dude, Jeff called me yesterday. He is developing a strategic partnership with this other dude in Miami. I think if we continually maximize our efforts and coordinate the synergistic aspects of this endeavor, we'll be so money.

"Word. This guy I know at Goldman-Sachs, he is the Director of Advanced Financial Directives, he can help us coagulate our knowledge with brand recognition. We're talking some serious fiscal implications in a positive direction. I'm so jacked right now. Hang on, gotta call coming in." (Bluetooth firmly entrenched in the ear)

After laughing/vomiting in my mouth a little, I remembered when they guys at the store tried to sound technical and do the name dropping.

"Hell, we was out there in Rome and Randy came out there...you know Randy, he's the head of the county department upair (up there) and he tol' us to get all the polybutylene off that property right then. I was working on the driveshaft and catalytic converter of that truck we got, so I didn't have to do it. Don't nobody mess with Randy. He makes biiiiig money too. Got him a twin engine Ranger boat up at Lake Weiss."

45 miles apart. Technical talk and name dropping. Goldman-Sachs and.....Randy. So different, yet so similar.

There's nothing wrong with Atlanta people. It's just a different culture. Quite frankly, some of the nicest and most interesting people I've ever met are city/suburban dwellers. I've never hidden my love for New York City and its citizens. Conversely, some of the most smug, back stabbing, self absorbed jerks I've ever known live in Bartow County, Georgia. They are another source of comedy altogether. If the entire world was a 10 mile radius from town square, they would be kings. Unfortunately for them, there are the rest of us.

So, if you are ever in Cassville and you are not privy to the intricacies of using toggle bolts vs. metric bolts or spark plug wire sizes, listen to the conversation closely. Absorb the vocabulary. Remember the big names. Introduce yourself as "Waylon Earnhardt Smith" and whatever you say after that will be OK by them. Just don't get carried away, or you'll be another Buckshot 32 victim.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Values in the 30123: Basic Truths for the Cassville in all of us

What a year 2012 has been so far. We are literally setting records at work, leaving me no time for fun/blogging/decompression. For that, I apologize, as I have had some complaints. I appreciate the complaints because it means y'all are actually reading these dang things! I promise to get back on schedule and fill your lives with Cassville appreciation, sarcasm and as always, love for the Dawgs and hate for our enemies.

Anyhow, as I was sitting at my desk this week, I thought about values. I know we are not born with values, we are only born with basic instincts. Our values are created by our environment and our interactions with each other. These interactions all crash together in our cerebral cortex like Dick Trickle in the third turn at Talladega, mix with what our parents told us, along with hormones and there you have it. I know we are told throughout our educated lives that we are all the same "deep down," but I'm here to tell you....that is a crock. That is the most preposterous statement I've heard since a Yankee once told me that "sugar makes grits taste better, buddy"  Take your sacrilege back to Minnesota along with the "buddy" crap. We are not the same, nor will we ever be. Each culture has its own set of values and basic truths that they observe, without fail. That is the definition of "deep down" and I know from observing Cassville natives that we are not like anyone else.

Here are some basic truths that every Cassvillian must observe:

1) There is only God. Anything else is wrong and anyone who doesn't believe that should be taken "out back"  and beaten. ("Out back" is a wonderful Southern colloquialism. "Out back" is a ubiquitous area where certain offenders are taken and physically manhandled by an individual or a group who disagrees with said offender. You won't find any kangaroos in this outback......only Darryl, Dwayne and all their uncles and cousins, ready to pummel you. Any non-Cassvillian needs to avoid "out back" as much as possible.)

2) Speaking of God, Dale Earnhardt sits at His right hand, espousing the virtues of Intimidation and putting sinners into the wall like Darrell Waltrip at Daytona. It is also Sterling Marlin's fault that Dale wrecked and died. Disagree with that, you'll be "out back" before you can say "I wonder if the far (fair) will be in the Big Lots parking lot this year?"

3) The Far (Fair). Everyone must go. No exceptions. You must also come back to Cass Grocery to discuss all prizes won at the bottle cap throwing station, any altercations with your ex-spouse who was there with his/her new squeeze and of course, how bad "them young'ns" were whilst waiting for the Ferris Wheel. At least one of them must receive a "whuppin'" in line, showing everybody runs the show in your house (or double wide).

4) "Whuppins" are an acceptable form of punishment, whether it be public or private. Public is preferred actually. FYI, the bathroom at Cass Grocery was the site of many whuppins. That room was like the Tower of London. All it took was a kid whining about not getting candy, and the kid's "Diddy" would look at me and say, "Can I borree (borrow) y'alls bathroom?" Nothing in the world can prepare you for a double negative infused, profanity laced tirade about Kit Kat bars: "Don't you NEVER gotdam whine at me like 'at (that) in this store. The damn race is on and we gotta git back. You ain't gettin nuthin! Shane! Cody! Y'all go get in the damn truck!" They storm out, buy their Natty Light and lay drag on their way home.

It will sometimes lead to a misdemeanor charge of "battery under the Family Violence Act," but if you go through life without an FVA charge, you haven't truly lived. Furthermore, you "done told him twiced (twice)" not to touch your Elvis commemorative plate collection.

5) Elvis is not dead. Moving along...

6) Every landlord is a jerk. Nobody has a nice landlord, it's not possible. "I done told him that my septic tank was backed up and he ain't doin' a dang thing about it, that icehoe (asshole)." Anyone who claims to have a nice landlord is a liar, and can be taken "out back" as such. (FYI, Dad was a landlord once. He made the incredible jerk move of demanding timely rent, so the tenant lit the place on fire. Another tenant beat his wife's face to a pulp in the front yard and another was busted growing an insane amount of marijuana in the basement. Rentals in Cassville: worth every penny.)

7) Gun ownership is encouraged, and it's even cooler if you have a "carry permit." You also must show this permit to others as much as possible, then pull up your pants leg to show them the brand new Glock strapped to your ankle, which caused your light bill to be paid late. Who cares? You gotta protect yourself. On the benches at Cass Grocery, I was witness to an arsenal of weaponry over the years, which lead me to believe two things: 1) We'd never be robbed in broad daylight and 2) if the Russians did invade us, I'm staying put. Those Commies would have been cut down in a hail of gunfire before you could say "The only good thing about Georgia Tech is that it's next to the Varsity." Wolverines!!!! (+1 for Red Dawn reference)

8) Trespassing is an offense punishable by death. We abide by Texas law here, "Texas East" so to speak. If your Justin Ropers touch a blade of grass in my pasture, it's the .30-06 for you. If you are not killed, you will certainly be taken "out back" and educated about the intricacies of Cassville property ownership. A couple of guys I went to school with learned the hard way about his rule. They weren't killed, but a Winchester rifle across the forehead will make you think twiced (twice) about roaming a pasture that doesn't belong to you.

9) All medical procedures must be done by emergency room doctors. No matter how large or small the problem may be, a hangnail all the way to the Ebola virus, you MUST go to the emergency room (via ambulance, of course. It's free, right? Oh wait...). All immediate family, uncles, aunts, cousins, co-workers, fellow church members and the guys from the Masons Lodge must show up to hold a vigil by your bedside. Of course, when you get a $2,500 hospital bill, you must go up to Cass Grocery and complain about it. There are no exceptions to this basic truth. Oh, and don't forget to wear your hospital bracelet for the next week...it's a great conversation starter.

"What happened to you, Leonard?

"Hell, me and Inez was at the Waffle House and I stepped in a oil slick and fell on my ice (ass). Rushed me to the emergency room. Cracked tailbone. I bet it caused my COPD to flare up too. I'm gonna call Ken Nugent. Hell, they even tol' me I got fibrmal-ga (fibromyalgia). I can't even work now. I am eating Klonopins left and right."

10) If you ever need to settle your differences and/or do something shady or illegal, the parking lot of the store is where it needs to occur. Once, a cheating boyfriend was caught with his other woman at his house. Instead of dealing with it at home, he and the woman sped off in his car and drove to the store. His longtime squeeze, we'll call her "Kristy," got in her car and followed them. They park next to the pay phone and of course, Kristy is right behind them. She removes a four foot piece of Re-Bar from her trunk and proceeds to demolish every piece of glass on the car, screaming obscenities that would make Chuck Norris shave his beard. After she finished, they drove away, covered in glass. She approaches Dad in tears and says, "are y'all gonna call the law?" Dad, trying not to laugh and living up to another Cassville code of honor, replies, "No way." She simply took them "out back" and this is totally acceptable behavior.

For shady or illegal activity, the pay phone at the store is your ticket. There is no telling how much meth, marijuana, prostitution, fraud, embezzlement, and the conspiracy to commit various and sundry crimes was discussed on this phone. Every time someone used that phone, they looked as if they'd just robbed a bank or burned somebody's house down. You know the look, constantly scanning the area for cops, pacing and chain smoking like Humphrey Bogart on Casablanca. Once, I was coming home from Athens with one of my friends and I passed by the store around 1 AM. There was an 80's model Mustang 5.0, a girl smoking a cigarette on the hood and a guy with a cutoff Def Leppard t-shirt, talking on the phone. "Nothing good happens after 1 AM," my parents always used to say. Well, all I know is that being on a pay phone at 1 AM in Cassville means that somebody is about to get high, die or get sold on the black market.

Values. Irreplaceable ideas and beliefs that are unique to a culture. Every community has them and this is why I say that "deep down," none of us are alike. It's like Billy used to say, "Every time I go to Fairmount, the music stops when I walk in a store." People know you are an outsider, it's obvious from the get-go. It's like the difference between a customer scratching lottery tickets when they are sober and when they are high on meth. Sober customers scan the tickets, buy them 1-2 at a time, and casually scratch them off in their car. People cranked up on meth buy 20 tickets at a time, scratch them at the counter furiously, taking breaks to pace and/or scratch their necks, contemplating whether they can afford 23 Snickers bars. That's the amount of difference between a Cassville native and people from elsewhere.

Oh.....and never, ever say that "sugar makes grits better" in Cassville (aka the 30123). You'll get taken out back, get "whupped"with Re-Bar and will likely end up in the emergency room.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Signing Day Disgustingness and Miller Lite Showers...I miss football already

Well, another Signing Day has come and gone. It was a typical Signing Day for me: no work was accomplished, I hit F5 on my computer about 4,584 times, texted at least that many times to my friends, and spent the evening scouring our rival's rosters to see who will be trotting out of the tunnel when we face them in 2012. Laura asked at one point if I was going to actually speak to her before bedtime. I think I did, but I don't remember. In any event, I was happy with the recruits the Dawgs signed. Our second opponent  in 2012, the vaunted Missouri Tigers, signed the #1 recruit in the nation. Florida has the #3 class in the nation. Auburn was in the top 15, South Carolina and Tennessee were in the top 25. Luckily, our schedule rotation worked out where we don't have to play Bama, who signed the #1 class in the nation. The rich definitely got richer on this February 1st. The SEC looks to be the premier conference in the nation for years to come.

Then....there's Tech. I don't know who they signed. As a matter of fact, nobody does. No one actually knows who plays for Tech until you line up across from them. I know Paul Johnson pulled the scholarship of a recruit from Lanier County, Georgia, who ultimately signed with North Carolina. His first question was, "when do we play Georgia Tech?" Good for you, young man. You are realizing a very important fact of life....Georgia Tech sucks. They suck in all forms and fashions. They lie, cheat, steal, inhale, kill kittens and know the identity of the second gunman on the Grassy Knoll. (+1 for Ace Ventura reference) If Tech was real estate, it wouldn't perk. If Tech was cheese, it would be fat free Velveeta. If Tech was a car, it would be a Honda Element riding on a donut. You get the picture.

Quite frankly though, this year's recruiting cycle was one of the most disheartening I've ever seen. Maybe it's been going on like this for years, I don't know. Maybe we are all too "plugged in" to what is going on now and we are shocked at how dirty, underhanded and disconcerting the entire process has become. Honestly, the NCAA, the conferences, coaches and ultimately, the fans are to blame for this debacle. We facilitate this "fifteen minutes of fame" gone awry by subscribing to websites, reading Twitter feeds, and calling in to talk shows. We pay the money to see the games. The coaches want to keep their jobs, so they will do anything short of murder to sign the best recruits. (there is no proof of this, maybe somebody has been whacked in Alabama, I wouldn't be shocked) The NCAA and the conferences rely on the money made by these guys, so they don't monitor anything in the present, they wait 3-4 years after they're gone and then investigate. The most egregious offenders get a "don't do that anymore" speech, a huge fine, a few schollys pulled and it's over.

Think about it. Alabama was on double secret probation for a good chunk of the 2000's, mostly for recruiting violations. They experienced a couple of bad seasons. They still sold out their games, then signed a top notch coach in 2007 and have won two national titles since. USC is currently on double secret probation (recruiting violations) yet they signed a top ten class (with Lane Kiffin, who left Tennessee in shambles, and on probation) and look to be in the Top 5 when the 2012 season starts. They are still on TV. They are still in Los Angeles. More importantly, they still have money. Same with Ohio State. Top Ten class, top notch new coach.....the future is so bright, they gotta wear shades. Lesson learned, right? Yeah, they seem real concerned. It's like a bug getting smashed on the windshield of a Bentley, it's annoying to look at the guts smeared all over the place, but it's still a Bentley and the guts will wash off eventually. Nothing will change the machine that is college football unless the money runs out. The same people stay on top. When was the last time ANYBODY came out of nowhere in major college football? (Boise State does not count. Sorry. If 10 of your 11 games are over by halftime, you are not major college football.)

Then you have the players, the families, street agents and the giant pool of hangers-on that make this circus complete. They all know the score and play the part of the innocent, wide-eyed recruit who wasn't aware that getting a brand new Navigator was a NCAA violation. However, if somebody gave me a free car, cash, and gifts, you better believe I'd rip their arm off taking every last bit of it. They know this is their one shot in the spotlight as a college recruit, that tomorrow is not promised and every single one of them is an ACL injury away from reality. I guess this may justify the constant "I'm committed, but I'm still looking, so I guess you can say I'm 90% but I guess I'll just leave it up to God" routine that permeates the recruiting machine. I don't remember a Signing Day with more de-commitments and last minute mind changes. If I was a coach, it would be so maddening to spend all the time and effort on a kid who blows you off at the 11th hour, thereby ruining your chances of getting another player to take his place. At the same time, the disgusting way that Nick Saban dropped Justin Taylor illustrates that this mentality swings both ways. Ugh. I'm getting annoyed just typing this sentence.

Then, I think about all the good times that college football has produced. Not just my times in Athens, but my entire college football watching life. I saw the greatest team in history (2001 Miami) play an unforgettable season.  I was able to see Reggie Bush dominate Pac-10 defenses, running around like Bo Jackson on Tecmo Bowl. (Seriously, Bo was MONEY on that game). I saw the greatest single game performance on live television (Vince Young singlehandedly defeating Southern Cal in the National Championship in 2006). I've seen guys come back from impossible injuries, people cry over victories and destroy property in defeat. All the amazing upsets.....I will NEVER forget when Appalachian State beat Michigan in 2007. I got emotional over it, I won't lie. A small school from the South with a quarter of the budget and a tenth of the facilities vs. a symbol of Northern blue-bloodedness. For anyone who was tailgating with me at that moment, I am so sorry for the Miller Lite shower, but that celebration was about more than football.

So, I will press on as a fan, regardless of the nonsensical quagmire that Signing Day has become. I will hang on until August....six long, agonizing months, until they tee it up again. In the meantime, I will watch the Hawks squander their early Southeast Division lead, Linsanity continue to overtake New York, early PGA events named after yet another corporation I've never heard of, and listen to another excuse as to why the Pacquiao-Mayweather fight will not take place. (They haven't used a tropical disease as an excuse yet...maybe Manny will get beriberi or scurvy this spring.) The Braves have already launched a "this may be the year" campaign, so we shall see. I'm betting Chipper will be out the entire month of March with a nagging ear lobe injury.

About Me

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I'm good at people watching and the memorization of useless facts. I'm voracious eater, reader, Crossfitter and Dawg fan. Shamelessly devoted to the cause of making 9-5 not suck so bad.