Considering all the negativity in the world right now, it is a wonder we all get along as well as we do. The entire nation is focused on Florida and the racial strife that has resulted from the death of Trayvon Martin. I always wonder a couple of things about these nationwide issues:
1) Who is really affected and truly at a loss?
2) Who is just trying to get on TV and have their fifteen minutes of fame?
I am no judge or jury and I know nothing of the incident other than what the news "reports." I just hope it is resolved in a just manner, those in the wrong are punished, those in the right are vindicated and NOBODY gets rich off the story. Profiting from death is reserved for governments and oil companies! (joking, of course. Or not.)
The incident has risen new questions about profiling. Does it happen in America frequently? Oh I don't know, maybe every nanosecond??? Human beings are not capable of viewing each other with impartiality, of this I am certain. I'm not just talking about race. I'm talking about socioeconomics in their entirety....appearance, financial condition, and behavior. Nobody can admit that they do not take this into account when meeting someone out in the world. Anyone who says that is a liar, blind and deaf or has attended way too many Grateful Dead concerts.
Then there are actions that cause one to lump another into a certain group of people. At Cass Grocery, I always profiled people's actions. You had to profile like that or you wouldn't survive up there. Profiling helped me catch thieves, stop scams, save my family money and keep our doors open all those years. So when it comes to that kind of profiling, I am totally in favor. I could always tell when something bad was about to happen. I could always point out the person who was going to try to distract me while their buddy stole cigarettes. Or who would reset the gas pump over and over, getting $2.00 each time, then come in claiming they only got $2.00 when they got $10.00. Quick change artists. Bad check passers. People who wanted credit that had no intention of paying us back. They were all the same.
Bad things do happen in Cassville from time to time, as with any small town in northwest Georgia. Drama is not reserved for petty Housewives, the Jersey Shore, or whatever Kardashian is inexplicably appearing on television today. I'm not talking about murder or terrorism here either, it's just that you can sense when some form of illegal activity is about to take place or when something unfortunate is about to befall someone. I guess those of us who worked at Cass Grocery had the ability to detect these shenanigans quicker than most because we knew everybody and their tendencies. I cannot count the times I've watched a customer leave the parking lot and Billy would say, "I'm glad I ain't in that house today." So, I compiled a list from my experiences to educate y'all on how to know when something bad has happened or will happen in the 30123. This list is brought to you by the potholes on Cass-White Road, Old Milwaukee Light, Orange County Choppers, Bacarri Rambo's brownies, and the criminal trial calendar of the Superior Courts of Bartow, Floyd, Gordon, Polk and Cherokee Counties.
How to Know Something Bad is Going To Happen in Cassville
1) When a man speeds into the parking lot of Cass Grocery, slams on the brakes and walks quickly inside. The left side of his face is swollen and red. His t-shirt collar is stretched beyond repair. He says nothing when he walks in and buys a 22 ounce Budweiser and a box of .38 shells. He lays drag as he leaves the store.
Possibilities:
He is going to shoot somebody, likely his wife's boyfriend.
He is going to shoot property, likely a car or something valuable to himself or another person.
Dale Junior lost Daytona on the last lap, he slammed his head against the wall, tore at his shirt, decided to keep drinking and possibly shoot something in his agony.
2) Somebody other than a DOT employee is carrying a piece of Re-Bar longer than 3 feet in their hand.
Possibilities:
Busted Glass
Busted Face
Car Immobilization
Human Immobilization
3) Anytime somebody says, "There's going to be a fight in Acworth tonight" coupled with references to "my old lady."
Possibilities:
He is going to fight his wife's boyfriend in a trailer park on Glade Road in the near future. There are no other possibilities. Cassville people don't make empty threats.
4) When somebody walks to the store and makes a call on the payphone. They do not face the store and they talk longer than five minutes, nervously twisting the phone line in their hand. A random, unknown car arrives and the person hangs up and gets in. You don't see them for at least a week or ever again.
Possibilities:
Drugs
Prostitution
Black Market Sale
Senate Subcommittee meeting about the tax implications of the Health Care Reform Act.
5) When a man or woman come in the store and do not instantly shop or they walk aimlessly around the candy rack. They stand around nervously and wait for all other customers to leave. They approach the counter, inquire about the progress of your day so far, and start off with "Hey, uh, man, uh....I hate to do this....."
Possibilities:
They want to buy beer on credit and recite the ever popular "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today" speech
They tell me that I will receive a phone call from the police in the future and if I would gladly confirm that they were at store with me from 3:00-7:00 the day before, they would appreciate it.
They want to sell me a rarely used Glock 9 mm for $75.
How to Tell That Something has Happened in Cassville
1) Take the same scenario from #5 above. It goes both ways.
Possibilities:
They have decided to run from the law for various reasons and they wanted to pay me for the cigarettes they got on credit yesterday before they take off to Alabama (Cassville people always run to Alabama. I don't know why. It's the proverbial Twilight Zone of legal liability, apparently.)
They just got dropped off by a strange, unknown car after being picked up at the payphone. They need to borrow $20, some Formula 409, some 2 Cycle oil and three gallons of bleach.
2) The guy who talked about the "fight in Acworth" and his "old lady" appears with a black eye in the latest Busted paper, smiling, with "Aggravated Assault, Battery and Terroristic Threats" under his name.
Possibilities:
He followed through. Cassvillians don't play. They quit first grade on account of recess.
3) A 90's model, two door SUV is driving 50 miles per hour in the wrong direction down a one-way cemetery road. Five people are crammed in the vehicle, there's a "Bobby's Title Pawn" tag on the back and a Rebel flag bandanna dangling from the rearview. (Happened to me yesterday)
Possibilities:
A massive amount of methamphetamine was just unloaded in the woods in the back of the cemetery.
A chicken fight was just raided and they booked it into the cemetery to duck the cops.
They were late to their SAT prep class and took a shortcut through the cemetery.
4) You are on your way to Gulf Shores, Alabama on I-65 below Montgomery and a car pulls beside you, honking the horn and waving. It's somebody from back home. You yell out the door, "what are you doin??" They reply, "Runnin!" and speed off into oblivion (or Bolivian, if you are Mike Tyson). (True story, too)
Possibilities:
Use your imagination. I told you, Alabama is legal purgatory for northwest Georgians.
5) A man comes in the store, with mud covering his feet, legs and all the way up to his waist. There is mud in his hair. He stops at the front, knocks some of the mud off his boots, walks in and says, "Boy, you ain't gonna believe this..."
Possibilities:
Every water line in his house busted and he needs 173 PVC 90 degree elbows, ten cans of pipe glue and two twelve packs of Budweiser to get through it.
They were riding at the power lines after a rain and every single all terrain vehicle is now stuck in the mud. He needs thirty feet of chain, three giant hooks and two twelve packs of Budweiser to get through it.
All of these scenarios were witnessed by me or someone at the store at some point. You get used to it after awhile. That's where the "profiling" comes in. So, when you see somebody acting nervous and talking about Alabama, you know they are heading for the Switzerland of Southern Justice. You will understand what to expect when you see a shirtless, tattooed man walking with a six foot piece of Re-Bar toward his ex-wife's car. You will not wonder what's going on when you see somebody on a payphone at 3 AM get into a random Camaro with out of state plates....
They are going to a State Senate hearing about the intricacies of high interest ARM loans before their tee time at East Lake Golf Club. Get a clue.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
A Few Stereotypes...or Don't Pay for that Beer with Unrolled Pennies
You never know when a laugh will randomly come over you. Yesterday, I went to Calhoun, Georgia for work, as I normally do. I pulled into the public lot east of the downtown area and walked to the office. We share the same block with several businesses, one of which is a DUI school/probation. FYI, if you don't think DUI School and Probation are businesses, try getting arrested or live in the legal world every day. They have more money than Davy Crockett (+1 for Forrest Gump reference). Seriously, I'm in the wrong business. Anyhow, I analyzed the vehicles parked in front of the respective businesses. The restaurant, the women's clothing boutique and the insurance agency had Chevy Tahoes, Silverados, a Honda Accord and a Lexus sitting out front. The law firm next door had a late model X-Terra. In front of the DUI School were the following:
1) A Yellow IROC-Z Camaro with dice on the mirror
2) A white, step side Ford Ranger with 13 inch mismatched rims, a Misfits sticker and a black bumper
3) A convertible PT Cruiser with duct tape on the ragtop, and Cadillac rims
This scene leads me to believe 2 things:
1) Stereotypes come from somewhere; and
2) Always judge a man by his car.
I laughed out loud all the way into my office. I plopped down in my chair, removed my Aviators, checked Facebook, texted Laura, and then turned on my Ipod. I stopped laughing because I realized.... I am a walking stereotype too. My generation is technologically dependent (we prefer to say "savvy"), fashion obsessed, and self centered to the point where we seek attention by posting open ended lamentations on social media sites so people will ask us.....what's wrong, sweetheart? (Huge pet peeve of mine) So, I got to thinking about stereotypes. How do they come about and why are people so up-in-arms about them all the time? The news media does not help one iota in the fight against stereotyping, scapegoating, typecasting, generalizing and all the other bad "-ings" that exist when it comes to the analysis of human behavior. You know me, I don't watch the news. Ever. I like to observe on my own and make my own decisions. I accidentally watched FoxNews once and had to get on Klonopin to get over my depression.
Since I observed Cassvillians in all their glory for so many years, I picked up on more stereotypes than I can count. What's funny about Cassville is that most people are proud to be the way they are. If somebody accuses them of being "country" or God help us, a "redneck," they seem to relish in this assumption. You are likely to hear the following:
"You damn right!"
"Mmmm hmmmm, you ain't lyin!"
"Yup. Wanna go ridin' at the par (power) lines?" (Non-Southerners, people in the South often ride 4-wheelers in the valleys created by large power lines)
Cassville people are fine with being accused of most things. Well, except the following:
1) Being a Jeff Gordon fan
2) Owning a Japanese vehicle (ATV's excluded)
3) Drinking non-alcoholic beer or any drink where one may raise their pinky as they indulge
4) Wearing ear plugs at the monster truck rally
5) Agreeing with any gun control
Here are some stereotypes from Cass Grocery that I observed every single day. These may or may not apply to your small town, as we are a unique bunch up here in the middle of Bartow County. The stereotypical action will be listed in bold and the reaction will be listed below. This list is brought to you by Dry Idea Powder Fresh deodorant (it's humid today), Tracy Lawrence's mullet, my Tim Hardaway poster, and A Tribe Called Quest's rapping skills. "I'm like Jordan with the mike, so let's gamble." Awesome.
People Who Have Bible Verses or Animal Pictures on their Checks....
The check is bad. No, really. 90% of the bank-created paper airplanes that flew back to us over the years had one of those two characteristics. Then we would be "jerks" for wanting our money. Oh, you have check #101 with a picture of a basket of kittens and Obadiah 1:1 quoted in the left hand corner? Excuse me while I get my tennis racket and smack that uselessness all the way to Kennesaw. (FYI, Obadiah only has one chapter. I remember that from 5th grade Sunday School class. Thanks, Mr. Anderson.) Why is these two particular items? I don't know. It was pure statistics for me. When I order checks from Wells Fargo, they always ask if I want graphics on my checks and I say, "Hell no!" I guarantee somebody that I do business with feels the same way I do.
People Who Still Drive late 90's Ford Explorers (two-door) and Write Checks for Over the Amount of Purchase.....
They are broke and probably doing drugs, hence the need for the extra cash. Those checks are probably coming back too. If there is a "Hello Kitty" picture and Psalm 23 on there, forgetaboutit. Light that check on fire.
Adults Who Ride a Bike to the Store....
I'm not talking about a $2,000 road bike. I'm talking about a 12 year old's Dyno dirt bike. These adults are ex-felons, too drunk to drive, or have a warrant out for their arrest somewhere. They will probably buy a twelve pack of the cheapest beer (Schaefer, Old Milwaukee, Milwaukee's Best), put it in a bag, hang it from one handlebar and you get to watch them try to steer the off-kilter bicycle as they talk on a cell phone all the way back to the trailer park.
Exception: Fu-Fu. No man in the universe could annihilate Olde English 800 like him and still be coherent (the record was 9 in one day on July 4, 1994). He'd come in the store and I'd say, "Fu, what's happenin?!?" Fu would reply, "Makin it!" He rode a bike because he was a pimp. Wore a tie every day too. RIP Fu-Fu. (Imagine Deebo from Friday, except really skinny, much blacker, and wouldn't hurt a fly.)
Old People Who Have a Stupid Grin on Their Face, a T-shirt Tucked into Elastic Shorts and Wear Sandals (with or without socks)....
They are out of towners and want to buy ice cream. They will also ask goofy questions about the store, laugh too much about stuff that is not funny and make a joke about the price of the ice cream. They will undoubtedly wonder what at least three flavors are, want to sample the butter pecan and ask for an off-the-wall flavor like Rum Raisin. This is a guarantee. Even Neen could see it. You know why?
#1: Because she never wore a stupid grin, wore sandals (much less with socks) and did not own a t-shirt. Southern women like her would not be caught dead in any of the aforementioned ensembles, my Meemaw is the same way.
#2 She only ate ice cream that she made herself. Neen's homemade ice cream was a food group unto itself. Neen was Cassville through and through.
People Who Talk About The Weather and Don't Sit on the Benches...
They are stealing from us. They are just trying to draw attention away from the batteries, the single pack of Goody's, the Kit-Kat or the 3/8 lag bolt that they just stuffed in their pocket. Karma always caught up to them. Once, a 12 year old kid mentioned something about the "dewpoint" to me and I knew he was a thieving little bastard. I told him to empty his pockets and lo and behold, a pack of Doral Light 100's appeared. I locked him in the ice machine and called his father at home, who drove up to the store and promptly "whupped" him on the spot. Cassville justice....always coming through in the clutch.
People Who Pay in Change Every Day.....
They will always wear pants that are too tight, so they have to struggle to remove the change, which falls in the floor and scatters all over the floor like a pile of roaches when a light turns on. They usually wait to come in when we are the busiest, buy a single Coors Light or a 40 ounce Bud Light, and pay for it with 76 pennies, three dimes and two nickels. This transaction will take a minimum of 15 minutes. When they drop the change, the other customers will help them pick it up and they all look like a herd of cattle grazing on a linoleum pasture. Dad would take a deep breath and get impatient, which would make me nervous and I would grab the Windex to clean the cooler doors before he exploded. If it had been Mom, she would helped them pick it up and then talk to them for 30 minutes about their kids. LOL. (oops, there's text speak, sorry. It's this generation.) Never a dull moment in the 30123.
Those are just a few stereotypes of customer activity. It was not a review of Cassville culture. It was not an indictment of anyone's way of life. It was observations made from years of dealing with the same kinds of people every single day. I'm not judging anyone and quite frankly, it made for a lot of laughs over the years. Sarcasm and cynicism aside, the stereotypical Cassville person was a good person with a good heart, who cared about us and the store, and when I see them now, they are always gracious and tell me how much they miss us. I miss them too.
1) A Yellow IROC-Z Camaro with dice on the mirror
2) A white, step side Ford Ranger with 13 inch mismatched rims, a Misfits sticker and a black bumper
3) A convertible PT Cruiser with duct tape on the ragtop, and Cadillac rims
This scene leads me to believe 2 things:
1) Stereotypes come from somewhere; and
2) Always judge a man by his car.
I laughed out loud all the way into my office. I plopped down in my chair, removed my Aviators, checked Facebook, texted Laura, and then turned on my Ipod. I stopped laughing because I realized.... I am a walking stereotype too. My generation is technologically dependent (we prefer to say "savvy"), fashion obsessed, and self centered to the point where we seek attention by posting open ended lamentations on social media sites so people will ask us.....what's wrong, sweetheart? (Huge pet peeve of mine) So, I got to thinking about stereotypes. How do they come about and why are people so up-in-arms about them all the time? The news media does not help one iota in the fight against stereotyping, scapegoating, typecasting, generalizing and all the other bad "-ings" that exist when it comes to the analysis of human behavior. You know me, I don't watch the news. Ever. I like to observe on my own and make my own decisions. I accidentally watched FoxNews once and had to get on Klonopin to get over my depression.
Since I observed Cassvillians in all their glory for so many years, I picked up on more stereotypes than I can count. What's funny about Cassville is that most people are proud to be the way they are. If somebody accuses them of being "country" or God help us, a "redneck," they seem to relish in this assumption. You are likely to hear the following:
"You damn right!"
"Mmmm hmmmm, you ain't lyin!"
"Yup. Wanna go ridin' at the par (power) lines?" (Non-Southerners, people in the South often ride 4-wheelers in the valleys created by large power lines)
Cassville people are fine with being accused of most things. Well, except the following:
1) Being a Jeff Gordon fan
2) Owning a Japanese vehicle (ATV's excluded)
3) Drinking non-alcoholic beer or any drink where one may raise their pinky as they indulge
4) Wearing ear plugs at the monster truck rally
5) Agreeing with any gun control
Here are some stereotypes from Cass Grocery that I observed every single day. These may or may not apply to your small town, as we are a unique bunch up here in the middle of Bartow County. The stereotypical action will be listed in bold and the reaction will be listed below. This list is brought to you by Dry Idea Powder Fresh deodorant (it's humid today), Tracy Lawrence's mullet, my Tim Hardaway poster, and A Tribe Called Quest's rapping skills. "I'm like Jordan with the mike, so let's gamble." Awesome.
People Who Have Bible Verses or Animal Pictures on their Checks....
The check is bad. No, really. 90% of the bank-created paper airplanes that flew back to us over the years had one of those two characteristics. Then we would be "jerks" for wanting our money. Oh, you have check #101 with a picture of a basket of kittens and Obadiah 1:1 quoted in the left hand corner? Excuse me while I get my tennis racket and smack that uselessness all the way to Kennesaw. (FYI, Obadiah only has one chapter. I remember that from 5th grade Sunday School class. Thanks, Mr. Anderson.) Why is these two particular items? I don't know. It was pure statistics for me. When I order checks from Wells Fargo, they always ask if I want graphics on my checks and I say, "Hell no!" I guarantee somebody that I do business with feels the same way I do.
People Who Still Drive late 90's Ford Explorers (two-door) and Write Checks for Over the Amount of Purchase.....
They are broke and probably doing drugs, hence the need for the extra cash. Those checks are probably coming back too. If there is a "Hello Kitty" picture and Psalm 23 on there, forgetaboutit. Light that check on fire.
Adults Who Ride a Bike to the Store....
I'm not talking about a $2,000 road bike. I'm talking about a 12 year old's Dyno dirt bike. These adults are ex-felons, too drunk to drive, or have a warrant out for their arrest somewhere. They will probably buy a twelve pack of the cheapest beer (Schaefer, Old Milwaukee, Milwaukee's Best), put it in a bag, hang it from one handlebar and you get to watch them try to steer the off-kilter bicycle as they talk on a cell phone all the way back to the trailer park.
Exception: Fu-Fu. No man in the universe could annihilate Olde English 800 like him and still be coherent (the record was 9 in one day on July 4, 1994). He'd come in the store and I'd say, "Fu, what's happenin?!?" Fu would reply, "Makin it!" He rode a bike because he was a pimp. Wore a tie every day too. RIP Fu-Fu. (Imagine Deebo from Friday, except really skinny, much blacker, and wouldn't hurt a fly.)
Old People Who Have a Stupid Grin on Their Face, a T-shirt Tucked into Elastic Shorts and Wear Sandals (with or without socks)....
They are out of towners and want to buy ice cream. They will also ask goofy questions about the store, laugh too much about stuff that is not funny and make a joke about the price of the ice cream. They will undoubtedly wonder what at least three flavors are, want to sample the butter pecan and ask for an off-the-wall flavor like Rum Raisin. This is a guarantee. Even Neen could see it. You know why?
#1: Because she never wore a stupid grin, wore sandals (much less with socks) and did not own a t-shirt. Southern women like her would not be caught dead in any of the aforementioned ensembles, my Meemaw is the same way.
#2 She only ate ice cream that she made herself. Neen's homemade ice cream was a food group unto itself. Neen was Cassville through and through.
People Who Talk About The Weather and Don't Sit on the Benches...
They are stealing from us. They are just trying to draw attention away from the batteries, the single pack of Goody's, the Kit-Kat or the 3/8 lag bolt that they just stuffed in their pocket. Karma always caught up to them. Once, a 12 year old kid mentioned something about the "dewpoint" to me and I knew he was a thieving little bastard. I told him to empty his pockets and lo and behold, a pack of Doral Light 100's appeared. I locked him in the ice machine and called his father at home, who drove up to the store and promptly "whupped" him on the spot. Cassville justice....always coming through in the clutch.
People Who Pay in Change Every Day.....
They will always wear pants that are too tight, so they have to struggle to remove the change, which falls in the floor and scatters all over the floor like a pile of roaches when a light turns on. They usually wait to come in when we are the busiest, buy a single Coors Light or a 40 ounce Bud Light, and pay for it with 76 pennies, three dimes and two nickels. This transaction will take a minimum of 15 minutes. When they drop the change, the other customers will help them pick it up and they all look like a herd of cattle grazing on a linoleum pasture. Dad would take a deep breath and get impatient, which would make me nervous and I would grab the Windex to clean the cooler doors before he exploded. If it had been Mom, she would helped them pick it up and then talk to them for 30 minutes about their kids. LOL. (oops, there's text speak, sorry. It's this generation.) Never a dull moment in the 30123.
Those are just a few stereotypes of customer activity. It was not a review of Cassville culture. It was not an indictment of anyone's way of life. It was observations made from years of dealing with the same kinds of people every single day. I'm not judging anyone and quite frankly, it made for a lot of laughs over the years. Sarcasm and cynicism aside, the stereotypical Cassville person was a good person with a good heart, who cared about us and the store, and when I see them now, they are always gracious and tell me how much they miss us. I miss them too.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Unsolved Mysteries in the 30123....Yoda is Gone and hey...there's a Ford Tempo hubcap!
There is an old Marshall Tucker Band song called "Stay in the Country," where Toy and Tommy Caldwell espouse the virtues of being from the South in the simplest way they can. The chorus says it all:
"I'll stay in the country,
that's where I was born,
live my life out in Carolina,
that's where I belong."
It reminds me of Cassville. It's weird for us small town Southerners, we can be anywhere and be reminded of home. It could be a song, a sound, a sight, a smell or some event that just takes you back to when you wore torn up jeans, it was OK to get dirty and if your hands smelled like catfish bait, nobody cared. I was in Atlanta the other night walking back to my car and I saw a lonely lightnin' bug (firefly, if you will. It's a lightnin' bug to me) flying by the parking deck. She lit up two or three times, flying slowly off into the night, looking for a place to go. It was one of those moments I was talking about. Instantly, Matt and I were running behind a million of them back home with a Mason jar, trying to catch enough to make a lantern out of it. They would blanket the pasture, there would literally be thousands of them. Those were nights where it was still 80 degrees at 8:00 and there was a constant layer of sweat on you, but you didn't mind. I couldn't help but smile. I could hear Neen yelling halfheartedly, "don't bring them things in this house!!" as she handed us a milkshake.
I've never known how lightnin' bugs light up. Quite frankly, it doesn't matter. I just hope that my future children have the opportunity to catch them one day. I guess it's just one of the Southern "mysteries" that will go on unsolved for yours truly. We are a mysterious bunch, we Southerners. As I've stated numerous times, the South has its own way of life. We are proud of things that others might not be. We put emphasis on things that other cultures ignore. Think about it. Where would you find people who stand around a country store lamenting the disappearance of the carburetor in the modern American vehicle? (Non Southerners, your car probably does not have a carburetor. Don't go around Cassville men and discuss your carburetor, trying to fit in.) Where would you be able to trade a Rockwaller (Rottweiler) puppy for a drive shaft for a 1987 Dodge Ram? Where would you find people who think that drug dealers should get life in prison, but moonshiners deserved to be left alone? Cassville. That's where.
Cass Grocery spawned many mysteries over the years for me. When you people watch for as long as I did, you often wondered why people do the things they do. You also heard stories and tall tales that were never really proven, but not refuted either. Unanswered questions, oil puddles and cigarette butts, three things that covered the parking lot of Cass Grocery like sand covers the desert. Here are some simple mysteries for you:
#1: Why do people insist on smoking cigarettes while pumping gas? Especially when pumping it into a milk jug, where you have to bend down, thus making the flame even closer to the fumes and CERTAIN DEATH or at least, missing eyebrows. This happened daily. I would watch the heated ashes fall with baited breath, just waiting on a fireball to kill us all. Strangely, it never happened. Not even a small fire.
#2: When playing online lottery (Cash 3, Fantasy 5, Mega Millions, etc.), why do people ask what the numbers were in the last drawing before picking the new numbers? No, really. I've heard people say, "well they drew 53 yesterday, so I'm going with 17 on the power ball this time." What?!? So many people believe there is a science to random drawings. Yeah, as much of a science as trying to figure out Georgia Tech's probability of ever being a good football team. None. They have no chance.
#3: Why did people ever buy Clorox bleach when the generic bleach was $3.00 cheaper? Seriously, I would even encourage them with the lower price and get this: "Nah, I gotta have the Clorox. She'll kill me if I bring anything else home." Bleach is bleach. I'm sure of it. As sure as I am about several other things: a) skating rinks in the South cultivate future fathers of illegitimate children; b) I'm going to lose the pair of sunglasses on my head in the next three days (third pair this year so far) and c) The Outlaws are the second most underrated Southern rock band behind the Marshall Tucker Band.
See, those were simple things that happened every day. There are literally thousands of these mysteries. There were more pervasive mysteries, such as:
#1: Why do all disabled people (the fake kind, not the truly disabled) only drink Dr. Pepper or Mountain Dew? I guess sitting around all day, doing nothing, makes you tired and you need a pick-me-up with enough sugar to send yourself into a diabetic coma? Bring it on, the Coke and Pepsi salesmen thank you for your patronage and blatant disregard for your health. They need to include "drinking Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew with reckless abandon" in the symptom list for fibromyalgia, COPD, carpal tunnel syndrome and the 73 new kinds of fake autism that exist now.
#2: Why do men who drive diesel trucks insist on backing into their parking spot? Never gotten a straight answer here. They also like to park near one another as well, like pretty maids all in a row (except they have oversized tires, a "CAT" tag on the front and dual gas tanks). I don't have a problem with this, I just have yet to understand it.
#3: Why didn't somebody from Cassville step up and do something drastic to stop the remake of The Dukes of Hazzard or Talladega Nights? These movies are horrific, inaccurate, and unworthy of a single Southern eye transfixing itself upon them. I walked out of the Dukes of Hazzard before it ended. I turned off Talladega Nights about 45 minutes in. Every Cassville native and true Southerner must band together and eliminate these travesties of modern film-making immediately.
Sorry, I had to go on some tangents there. I hate those movies, seriously. Just like I hate Kenny Chesney's music after 2001, the disappearance of Cadbury Creme Eggs after April and any beer made by Coors. Other mysteries spawned from Cassville-specific events that have yet to be properly addressed:
#1: What happened to Yoda? Nobody knows. She just disappeared one day. Dad and I came up some theories: a) She died and was reincarnated as an eternal lit cigarette laying in the store's parking lot; b) the alien race that killed the dinosaurs realized they left her behind; c) she transformed into the younger, Italian version of herself and you now know her as "Snooki." Seriously, when Snooki is hungover, you can see the resemblance. If she asks for a "dip of niller" on the boardwalk of the Jersey Shore, then you will know.
#2: How long did Dad drive his truck before he realized we had affixed a Toyota Camry hubcap to his front passenger rim? For some reason, the store was a magnet for wayward hubcaps. Every morning, we would open up and a stray plastic/fiberglass beauty would be laying in the parking lot. We often would attach a sign to it with "$5.00 or best offer" and leave it on the bench. It would promptly be stolen by somebody from the trailer park. (free frisbee/TV tray for them youngins) The aforementioned Toyota Camry hubcap was laying by the payphones one morning, I think around 1994-1995. Dad had a truck we called "Ol Blue." It was a long bed Chevrolet 1500 with a 400 cu. inch engine. Needless to say, that truck, with its weightless bed and unnecessarily huge engine, could "get on it" something fierce. Since it was a work truck, nobody ever rode shotgun much, that hubcap went unnoticed for at least two weeks. He never said a word about it. (Dad, if you read this and you found the hubcap, sorry...it was me.)
#3: Why were all those really nervous, scratchy people buying Sudafed, copper brushes and Drano from 2001-2006? LOL. Riiiiiiggghhht.
Those are just a few mysteries that I have yet to clear up. I could list hundreds of these and I'll probably do another installment from time to time. Right now, I'm still trying to figure out a couple of outside-of-Cassville mysteries:
#1: I watch the Walking Dead because it takes place in Georgia. I'm dying to know this...what did Dr. Jenner whisper to Rick Grimes in the CDC before it exploded?? My best guesses:
"Everyone is already infected."
"I'm what Willis was talking about."
"I think LL Cool J is one of the most underrated rappers of all time. Jingling Baby may be his best song, but Who Do You Love???? That's a classic."
See for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LkHAmnKvcM
#2: Why do people at Starbucks use up ALL of the 1/2 and 1/2 and just leave the empty bottle? By God, at Cass Grocery, that wouldn't happen. My customers would just walk to the cabinet and get a new container out themselves, then say "hey, I get a discount for all this heavy liftin', right?" I miss those people. Even Yoda.
"I'll stay in the country,
that's where I was born,
live my life out in Carolina,
that's where I belong."
It reminds me of Cassville. It's weird for us small town Southerners, we can be anywhere and be reminded of home. It could be a song, a sound, a sight, a smell or some event that just takes you back to when you wore torn up jeans, it was OK to get dirty and if your hands smelled like catfish bait, nobody cared. I was in Atlanta the other night walking back to my car and I saw a lonely lightnin' bug (firefly, if you will. It's a lightnin' bug to me) flying by the parking deck. She lit up two or three times, flying slowly off into the night, looking for a place to go. It was one of those moments I was talking about. Instantly, Matt and I were running behind a million of them back home with a Mason jar, trying to catch enough to make a lantern out of it. They would blanket the pasture, there would literally be thousands of them. Those were nights where it was still 80 degrees at 8:00 and there was a constant layer of sweat on you, but you didn't mind. I couldn't help but smile. I could hear Neen yelling halfheartedly, "don't bring them things in this house!!" as she handed us a milkshake.
I've never known how lightnin' bugs light up. Quite frankly, it doesn't matter. I just hope that my future children have the opportunity to catch them one day. I guess it's just one of the Southern "mysteries" that will go on unsolved for yours truly. We are a mysterious bunch, we Southerners. As I've stated numerous times, the South has its own way of life. We are proud of things that others might not be. We put emphasis on things that other cultures ignore. Think about it. Where would you find people who stand around a country store lamenting the disappearance of the carburetor in the modern American vehicle? (Non Southerners, your car probably does not have a carburetor. Don't go around Cassville men and discuss your carburetor, trying to fit in.) Where would you be able to trade a Rockwaller (Rottweiler) puppy for a drive shaft for a 1987 Dodge Ram? Where would you find people who think that drug dealers should get life in prison, but moonshiners deserved to be left alone? Cassville. That's where.
Cass Grocery spawned many mysteries over the years for me. When you people watch for as long as I did, you often wondered why people do the things they do. You also heard stories and tall tales that were never really proven, but not refuted either. Unanswered questions, oil puddles and cigarette butts, three things that covered the parking lot of Cass Grocery like sand covers the desert. Here are some simple mysteries for you:
#1: Why do people insist on smoking cigarettes while pumping gas? Especially when pumping it into a milk jug, where you have to bend down, thus making the flame even closer to the fumes and CERTAIN DEATH or at least, missing eyebrows. This happened daily. I would watch the heated ashes fall with baited breath, just waiting on a fireball to kill us all. Strangely, it never happened. Not even a small fire.
#2: When playing online lottery (Cash 3, Fantasy 5, Mega Millions, etc.), why do people ask what the numbers were in the last drawing before picking the new numbers? No, really. I've heard people say, "well they drew 53 yesterday, so I'm going with 17 on the power ball this time." What?!? So many people believe there is a science to random drawings. Yeah, as much of a science as trying to figure out Georgia Tech's probability of ever being a good football team. None. They have no chance.
#3: Why did people ever buy Clorox bleach when the generic bleach was $3.00 cheaper? Seriously, I would even encourage them with the lower price and get this: "Nah, I gotta have the Clorox. She'll kill me if I bring anything else home." Bleach is bleach. I'm sure of it. As sure as I am about several other things: a) skating rinks in the South cultivate future fathers of illegitimate children; b) I'm going to lose the pair of sunglasses on my head in the next three days (third pair this year so far) and c) The Outlaws are the second most underrated Southern rock band behind the Marshall Tucker Band.
See, those were simple things that happened every day. There are literally thousands of these mysteries. There were more pervasive mysteries, such as:
#1: Why do all disabled people (the fake kind, not the truly disabled) only drink Dr. Pepper or Mountain Dew? I guess sitting around all day, doing nothing, makes you tired and you need a pick-me-up with enough sugar to send yourself into a diabetic coma? Bring it on, the Coke and Pepsi salesmen thank you for your patronage and blatant disregard for your health. They need to include "drinking Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew with reckless abandon" in the symptom list for fibromyalgia, COPD, carpal tunnel syndrome and the 73 new kinds of fake autism that exist now.
#2: Why do men who drive diesel trucks insist on backing into their parking spot? Never gotten a straight answer here. They also like to park near one another as well, like pretty maids all in a row (except they have oversized tires, a "CAT" tag on the front and dual gas tanks). I don't have a problem with this, I just have yet to understand it.
#3: Why didn't somebody from Cassville step up and do something drastic to stop the remake of The Dukes of Hazzard or Talladega Nights? These movies are horrific, inaccurate, and unworthy of a single Southern eye transfixing itself upon them. I walked out of the Dukes of Hazzard before it ended. I turned off Talladega Nights about 45 minutes in. Every Cassville native and true Southerner must band together and eliminate these travesties of modern film-making immediately.
Sorry, I had to go on some tangents there. I hate those movies, seriously. Just like I hate Kenny Chesney's music after 2001, the disappearance of Cadbury Creme Eggs after April and any beer made by Coors. Other mysteries spawned from Cassville-specific events that have yet to be properly addressed:
#1: What happened to Yoda? Nobody knows. She just disappeared one day. Dad and I came up some theories: a) She died and was reincarnated as an eternal lit cigarette laying in the store's parking lot; b) the alien race that killed the dinosaurs realized they left her behind; c) she transformed into the younger, Italian version of herself and you now know her as "Snooki." Seriously, when Snooki is hungover, you can see the resemblance. If she asks for a "dip of niller" on the boardwalk of the Jersey Shore, then you will know.
#2: How long did Dad drive his truck before he realized we had affixed a Toyota Camry hubcap to his front passenger rim? For some reason, the store was a magnet for wayward hubcaps. Every morning, we would open up and a stray plastic/fiberglass beauty would be laying in the parking lot. We often would attach a sign to it with "$5.00 or best offer" and leave it on the bench. It would promptly be stolen by somebody from the trailer park. (free frisbee/TV tray for them youngins) The aforementioned Toyota Camry hubcap was laying by the payphones one morning, I think around 1994-1995. Dad had a truck we called "Ol Blue." It was a long bed Chevrolet 1500 with a 400 cu. inch engine. Needless to say, that truck, with its weightless bed and unnecessarily huge engine, could "get on it" something fierce. Since it was a work truck, nobody ever rode shotgun much, that hubcap went unnoticed for at least two weeks. He never said a word about it. (Dad, if you read this and you found the hubcap, sorry...it was me.)
#3: Why were all those really nervous, scratchy people buying Sudafed, copper brushes and Drano from 2001-2006? LOL. Riiiiiiggghhht.
Those are just a few mysteries that I have yet to clear up. I could list hundreds of these and I'll probably do another installment from time to time. Right now, I'm still trying to figure out a couple of outside-of-Cassville mysteries:
#1: I watch the Walking Dead because it takes place in Georgia. I'm dying to know this...what did Dr. Jenner whisper to Rick Grimes in the CDC before it exploded?? My best guesses:
"Everyone is already infected."
"I'm what Willis was talking about."
"I think LL Cool J is one of the most underrated rappers of all time. Jingling Baby may be his best song, but Who Do You Love???? That's a classic."
See for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LkHAmnKvcM
#2: Why do people at Starbucks use up ALL of the 1/2 and 1/2 and just leave the empty bottle? By God, at Cass Grocery, that wouldn't happen. My customers would just walk to the cabinet and get a new container out themselves, then say "hey, I get a discount for all this heavy liftin', right?" I miss those people. Even Yoda.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Misconceptions about the South....Non-Political Version
As the area of the United States that is the most often discussed, written about, romanticized, demonized, idolized, and analyzed, we are sadly also generalized. Now, I'm not going to discuss all the serious issues that are factually airtight, according to the national media: the racism that just runs rampant in all Southern towns, our destitute education system, our failed dental hygiene, our requited love for our cousins, and our children's permanent Kool-Aid mustaches. They portray us in a light that suits them. They want to interview the fat lady in the mumu and hair curlers after a tornado. They want a Klan rally to occur in downtown Hoot n' Holler, Arkansas (population: 37) so they can say, "See? They are no different!" Just wait for a slow news day, the AP will run a story about the South that is less than flattering every time. Thank God for political disasters, the Occupy people, melting ozone, hurricanes, the Mayan calendar, Snooki and American Idol. If they did not exist, we'd be the topic of the national news every minute.
No, I'm not discussing serious stuff here. Why? I'm not that serious of a person. I happen to believe that God, in His infinite wisdom, made it feel good to laugh for a reason. I've never felt good after a rousing debate about gas prices, school board policy or whether Iraq has 28 WMD's stored under a used camel lot in downtown Basrah. Undoubtedly, I just end up more mad and even further divided from the people I was arguing with. I have my opinions, but I've never seen them directly affect anyone but me. However, I have seen a group of people laugh at something I've said, or get an email from somebody who tells me that I made their day with a Cassville story.....and that's what it's all about. It's the reason I never watch the news, but I watch every Comedy Central Roast. I don't catch the newest presidential debate, but if there's a Three Stooges marathon, I'm in. I'd rather have met Lewis Grizzard than John F. Kennedy. (unless he wanted to talk about Marilyn)
So, I'm here to clear up a few misconceptions about the South right here and now. These will be relevant to the modern day South, not the "Gone With the Wind" South. I've never stood in a pasture and screamed "As God as my witness, I'll never go hungry again!!" Sorry. We are just not that dramatic these days. I did scream it in the Waffle House parking lot on Cass-White Road once, but a triple order of hash browns (scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked) took care of that. Now the Waffle House has a "topped" option for hash browns...which means they cover all that goodness with a blanket of sausage gravy. For me, that's akin to walking through the Pearly Gates and my Granddads are both standing there bragging about a bass they just caught. It doesn't get better, really.
Misconceptions
#1 We All Think That Larry The Cable Guy is Funny
Nope. He's not, unless you like an hour of toilet humor mixed with a fake Southern accent. He's like the Kenny Chesney of comedy and people down here just go crazy for him. Call up "Larry Whitney" on Youtube and see for yourself. "Git-R-Done" needs to get the hell on. I watch the crowd when he says that tagline and they all let out a big "woooooooo" when he does this. Let it be known right now: only Ric Flair is allowed this response, not some fraudulent hick that put on some flannel, picked 3-4 stereotypes to play with, developed an accent and latched on to Jeff Foxworthy like a chigger on my leg after walking through our old pasture.
#2 Garth Brooks is the Best and Most Popular Country Singer Here
Garth had a ton of hits, of this there is no doubt. The man made millions of dollars singing of Low Places, Bar Associations, Rivers, Fires, and Calling the Old Man Out. However, I can say that he is not held in the same regard as Alan Jackson, George Strait or any of the old school singers. Why? He had a sissy factor. Yep, I said it. We were discussing it at the store once and one man said, "you know, I'd like to have a beer with George Jones. I mean, come on, it's George Jones. But Garth? Man, I don't know. He'd probably start talking about his feelings or how much starch he used in his shirt." Then, he pulled the Chris Gaines debacle that sealed his fate with true Southerners forever. Could you even imagine George Strait doing this? I could see his producers now...
(nervously kicking the dirt at his feet) "George, hey, look...um, we need you to connect with a new audience. This generation doesn't want Amarillo By Morning. They want songs about unrequited teenage love coupled with pill addictions, reality TV references, guitar distortion and at least one cameo by Kanye West in a music video. You are gonna need to highlight your hair and lose the hat. I think we will call you Tommy "44" Magnum. Deal?"
"Naw." George then spits Skoal on producer's Gucci loafer, choke slams an Angus Bull just to prove a point and drives off in his pickup, exuding masculinity and discounting any notions of tomfoolery in his countenance. (sorry, had to do the SAT word thing. It's that bad education down here, I'm tellin' you)
#3 Every Lawyer Down Here Wears Seersucker Suits
Speaking from personal experience, I look like a clown in seersucker and a bow tie. I might as well have a hand buzzer and a flower that squirts water pinned to my lapel. It works for some people, like old men with goatees, short guys, plaintiff's attorneys, or Bobby Lee Cook, who can wear whatever he wants. Every time I see somebody other than the aforementioned people in a seersucker suit, I want to say, "Hey, Captain Tryingtoohard, what's up?" Plus, seersucker is not exactly comfortable when its 90 degrees outside with 85% humidity. It's hard to convince a jury of anything with your shirt soaked and hair matted down like Norman Reedus on The Walking Dead.
#4 We Always Want to Hear "Freebird" in Bars or Any Live Music Situation
Undoubtedly, when somebody is playing live music in a bar, "Freebird!" is screamed to the top of somebody's Miller Lite soaked lungs when there is a quiet moment. If the singer asks if anybody has a request, "Freeeeeebiiiiird!!!" is without a doubt going to rattle the rafters. What people tend to forget is that the damn song is about 12 minutes long with no words for about six straight minutes. I know I'm not in the minority when I say that people lose interest in the song after about three or four minutes anyway. Don't get me wrong, I like Freebird, but it's not even close to being my favorite Southern rock song. In fact, it's not even the best song on the album it was recorded for. (Tuesday's Gone...much better if you ask me). So many people believe that Freebird is the quintessential Southern song simply because of the shouting phenomenon. They are wrong. That's like saying people in Cassville like Natural Light better than Budweiser because they buy it twice(d) as much. Nope. If a big bonus check comes in, they will walk out with two cases of Bud Heavy quicker than you can say "Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses is my life story."
Just once, I want somebody to shout "Green Grass and High Tides," "Mindbender," or "Blue Jeans Blues." One night, in a smoky bar somewhere in northwest Georgia, I want a guy to pull out his lighter, start swaying and scream "Highwaaaaaay Saaaaawwwwwwwngggg!!!! (Highway Song by Blackfoot. Download it, Southern people. Immediately.) Shoot, somebody let me bum a lighter, a Marlboro, a Camaro, and pending assault charge....and I'll have the band play the entire "Mullets Rock" compilation, beginning to end. Just ask the patrons of Wild Wing Cafe in Athens, Georgia, ca. August 2005. I had a live band from Savannah playing Allman Brothers, Marshall Tucker Band and Atlanta Rhythm Section all night long and I was wearing a tux. Imagine the damage I could do with an airbrushed "wolf howling over a canyon" t-shirt and a Schlitz 16 oz can.
#5 We Mispronounce the Word "Pen."
Nope. The rest of you are wrong. Get over it.
You are also wrong about other words too (these are two that I've been questioned/chastized about the most):
"Coke" or "Co-Cola" is acceptable for any soft drink. The whole country calls all tissues "Kleenexes" and all adhesive bandages "BandAids." We lay claim to soft drinks. Get over it.
"Fixing to" is an acceptable verb. We are basically informing you that we are arranging our schedules accordingly to effectuate the completion of the pending activity that you are inquiring about. See? That's a mouthful. We are just being efficient. Get over it.
Conclusion: We Ain't Perfect
There are so many more misconceptions about the South out there. It doesn't make us mad, quite frankly, we relish the difference and wallow in it, like a pig in slop. We know we are not perfect. We also misconceive things ourselves. For example, why are there so many girls down here named "Charity" and "Chastity," who are neither charitable nor chaste. Why do we insist on the continuation of the Huddle House? It's not an alternative, it's sacrilege. How do we look in the mirror at ourselves when we let Kenny Chesney continue to make music? And what's with the Panama City obsession? I love my people, but dang, if I wanted to hang around thousands of idiots, wait in line to for a club that will be shut down by the cops in the next hour and get overcharged for second hand food...I'd go to a Larry the Cable Guy show.
Have a great weekend. (lighter's up, swaying ensues, ".38 Special!!!" and the crowd at Starbucks goes out the door, thinking I have a gun.)
No, I'm not discussing serious stuff here. Why? I'm not that serious of a person. I happen to believe that God, in His infinite wisdom, made it feel good to laugh for a reason. I've never felt good after a rousing debate about gas prices, school board policy or whether Iraq has 28 WMD's stored under a used camel lot in downtown Basrah. Undoubtedly, I just end up more mad and even further divided from the people I was arguing with. I have my opinions, but I've never seen them directly affect anyone but me. However, I have seen a group of people laugh at something I've said, or get an email from somebody who tells me that I made their day with a Cassville story.....and that's what it's all about. It's the reason I never watch the news, but I watch every Comedy Central Roast. I don't catch the newest presidential debate, but if there's a Three Stooges marathon, I'm in. I'd rather have met Lewis Grizzard than John F. Kennedy. (unless he wanted to talk about Marilyn)
So, I'm here to clear up a few misconceptions about the South right here and now. These will be relevant to the modern day South, not the "Gone With the Wind" South. I've never stood in a pasture and screamed "As God as my witness, I'll never go hungry again!!" Sorry. We are just not that dramatic these days. I did scream it in the Waffle House parking lot on Cass-White Road once, but a triple order of hash browns (scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked) took care of that. Now the Waffle House has a "topped" option for hash browns...which means they cover all that goodness with a blanket of sausage gravy. For me, that's akin to walking through the Pearly Gates and my Granddads are both standing there bragging about a bass they just caught. It doesn't get better, really.
Misconceptions
#1 We All Think That Larry The Cable Guy is Funny
Nope. He's not, unless you like an hour of toilet humor mixed with a fake Southern accent. He's like the Kenny Chesney of comedy and people down here just go crazy for him. Call up "Larry Whitney" on Youtube and see for yourself. "Git-R-Done" needs to get the hell on. I watch the crowd when he says that tagline and they all let out a big "woooooooo" when he does this. Let it be known right now: only Ric Flair is allowed this response, not some fraudulent hick that put on some flannel, picked 3-4 stereotypes to play with, developed an accent and latched on to Jeff Foxworthy like a chigger on my leg after walking through our old pasture.
#2 Garth Brooks is the Best and Most Popular Country Singer Here
Garth had a ton of hits, of this there is no doubt. The man made millions of dollars singing of Low Places, Bar Associations, Rivers, Fires, and Calling the Old Man Out. However, I can say that he is not held in the same regard as Alan Jackson, George Strait or any of the old school singers. Why? He had a sissy factor. Yep, I said it. We were discussing it at the store once and one man said, "you know, I'd like to have a beer with George Jones. I mean, come on, it's George Jones. But Garth? Man, I don't know. He'd probably start talking about his feelings or how much starch he used in his shirt." Then, he pulled the Chris Gaines debacle that sealed his fate with true Southerners forever. Could you even imagine George Strait doing this? I could see his producers now...
(nervously kicking the dirt at his feet) "George, hey, look...um, we need you to connect with a new audience. This generation doesn't want Amarillo By Morning. They want songs about unrequited teenage love coupled with pill addictions, reality TV references, guitar distortion and at least one cameo by Kanye West in a music video. You are gonna need to highlight your hair and lose the hat. I think we will call you Tommy "44" Magnum. Deal?"
"Naw." George then spits Skoal on producer's Gucci loafer, choke slams an Angus Bull just to prove a point and drives off in his pickup, exuding masculinity and discounting any notions of tomfoolery in his countenance. (sorry, had to do the SAT word thing. It's that bad education down here, I'm tellin' you)
#3 Every Lawyer Down Here Wears Seersucker Suits
Speaking from personal experience, I look like a clown in seersucker and a bow tie. I might as well have a hand buzzer and a flower that squirts water pinned to my lapel. It works for some people, like old men with goatees, short guys, plaintiff's attorneys, or Bobby Lee Cook, who can wear whatever he wants. Every time I see somebody other than the aforementioned people in a seersucker suit, I want to say, "Hey, Captain Tryingtoohard, what's up?" Plus, seersucker is not exactly comfortable when its 90 degrees outside with 85% humidity. It's hard to convince a jury of anything with your shirt soaked and hair matted down like Norman Reedus on The Walking Dead.
#4 We Always Want to Hear "Freebird" in Bars or Any Live Music Situation
Undoubtedly, when somebody is playing live music in a bar, "Freebird!" is screamed to the top of somebody's Miller Lite soaked lungs when there is a quiet moment. If the singer asks if anybody has a request, "Freeeeeebiiiiird!!!" is without a doubt going to rattle the rafters. What people tend to forget is that the damn song is about 12 minutes long with no words for about six straight minutes. I know I'm not in the minority when I say that people lose interest in the song after about three or four minutes anyway. Don't get me wrong, I like Freebird, but it's not even close to being my favorite Southern rock song. In fact, it's not even the best song on the album it was recorded for. (Tuesday's Gone...much better if you ask me). So many people believe that Freebird is the quintessential Southern song simply because of the shouting phenomenon. They are wrong. That's like saying people in Cassville like Natural Light better than Budweiser because they buy it twice(d) as much. Nope. If a big bonus check comes in, they will walk out with two cases of Bud Heavy quicker than you can say "Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses is my life story."
Just once, I want somebody to shout "Green Grass and High Tides," "Mindbender," or "Blue Jeans Blues." One night, in a smoky bar somewhere in northwest Georgia, I want a guy to pull out his lighter, start swaying and scream "Highwaaaaaay Saaaaawwwwwwwngggg!!!! (Highway Song by Blackfoot. Download it, Southern people. Immediately.) Shoot, somebody let me bum a lighter, a Marlboro, a Camaro, and pending assault charge....and I'll have the band play the entire "Mullets Rock" compilation, beginning to end. Just ask the patrons of Wild Wing Cafe in Athens, Georgia, ca. August 2005. I had a live band from Savannah playing Allman Brothers, Marshall Tucker Band and Atlanta Rhythm Section all night long and I was wearing a tux. Imagine the damage I could do with an airbrushed "wolf howling over a canyon" t-shirt and a Schlitz 16 oz can.
#5 We Mispronounce the Word "Pen."
Nope. The rest of you are wrong. Get over it.
You are also wrong about other words too (these are two that I've been questioned/chastized about the most):
"Coke" or "Co-Cola" is acceptable for any soft drink. The whole country calls all tissues "Kleenexes" and all adhesive bandages "BandAids." We lay claim to soft drinks. Get over it.
"Fixing to" is an acceptable verb. We are basically informing you that we are arranging our schedules accordingly to effectuate the completion of the pending activity that you are inquiring about. See? That's a mouthful. We are just being efficient. Get over it.
Conclusion: We Ain't Perfect
There are so many more misconceptions about the South out there. It doesn't make us mad, quite frankly, we relish the difference and wallow in it, like a pig in slop. We know we are not perfect. We also misconceive things ourselves. For example, why are there so many girls down here named "Charity" and "Chastity," who are neither charitable nor chaste. Why do we insist on the continuation of the Huddle House? It's not an alternative, it's sacrilege. How do we look in the mirror at ourselves when we let Kenny Chesney continue to make music? And what's with the Panama City obsession? I love my people, but dang, if I wanted to hang around thousands of idiots, wait in line to for a club that will be shut down by the cops in the next hour and get overcharged for second hand food...I'd go to a Larry the Cable Guy show.
Have a great weekend. (lighter's up, swaying ensues, ".38 Special!!!" and the crowd at Starbucks goes out the door, thinking I have a gun.)
Monday, March 5, 2012
Rules and Theories for Sports Fans in Georgia: Bunk Beds, Boston Coattails and Bandwagon Wheels going flat
Bill Simmons of ESPN is one of my favorite writers ever. Not just because we share a fanatical love of basketball, top ten lists and statistics, but because he goes outside the box with his writing. Bill often goes on tangents throughout his articles, complete with footnotes, that are not only hilarious, but informative. For example, he could be talking about the NBA Finals and then suddenly do two paragraphs about how "The Air Up There" may be the worst movie ever made (it's close.....Cabin Fever is my vote for worst movie ever) or how he saw David Lee Roth in Vegas and got hammered with him. He weaves pop culture, sarcasm, and some "this one time, at band camp" stories with sports and really keeps a reader intrigued. Check him out on ESPN.com or http://www.grantland.com/, his very own website. I promise, if you are a sports fanatic, you will not be disappointed.
One thing Bill has done in the past is create his own rules and theories about certain players and sports. The most famous one he has done is the "Ewing Theory." Seriously, type "Ewing" into Google and The "Ewing Theory" is the first entry to pop up. Essentially, the Ewing Theory applies to players who receive an inordinate amount of attention and fan love, yet their teams never really accomplish anything with them. Then, when said player leaves the team (trades, retirement, etc.) the team rises to even greater heights. Obviously, this is a dubious homage to the career of Patrick Ewing. If you review the Knicks history while he manned the paint in Madison Square Garden, you will notice two things. Number One...he had the largest knee pads in the history of basketball. Number Two...the Knicks seemed to play better without him in the lineup. Check out Bill's article, it's very interesting and thought provoking. http://proxy.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?id=1193711
Anyhow, Bill inspired me to create some sports rules and life theories for Southerners, mainly Georgians. These rules are going to be an absolution of Southern life and fandom forever, I can feel it. I want to be quoted years from now in an internet newpaper on Mars...."yep, ol Brad called it, the Chipper Jones-Hooters-Cold Sore Theory has held up all these years." Yep, that's what I want. These rules are brought to you by Herschel Walker's Sixth Personality, Left Hand Milk Stout Beer, RC Cola and Moon Pies, and Bear Bryant's accent. Why the Bear? Because I went to Tuscaloosa in 2002 when we played Bama and their pregame video started with the Bear saying "I ain't never been nuthin but a winner" in that Arkansas/Alabama accent that was thicker than a Chicago politician's wallet. I got a chill, and they were the dang enemy that day. That man is still powerful and he's been dead for nearly thirty years. Without further delay, here are some rules and theories for Southern fans:
1) The Dale Earnhardt, Jr. Compromise
All Southerners must cheer for Junior, even though we know he will never win a Winston/Sprint/Sega/TD Waterhouse/Whatever It Will Be Next Year Cup. It's never going to happen. However, pulling for Junior is a de facto cheer for his late father, the alpha and omega of NASCAR drivers. If and when Junior wins a race, Southerners must oblige the victory with a "well, this may be the year..." discussion, speak forlornly about Dale Senior's death, and then blame Junior's failures on his crew chief. The Son of the Man cannot be held accountable, no matter how many times he finishes 20th or worse. Other examples of this Compromise: Hank Williams III, Shooter Jennings, Derek Dooley, and Mike Shula.
2) The UGA/Alabama Eternal Bunk Bed Theory
Although we are close in proximity, share our entire western border with them, and sometimes fight over who gets to be on the top bunk, we just don't hate each other. We are like eternal dorm roommates that go out for beers on Friday and hate the other guys on the hall together. Yes, we've woken each other up the night before a test and yes, when Alabama passes out after too many drinks, we will draw on their face. We've had some knock-down drag-outs (the 1976 UGA victory to seal the SEC title, the 1985 Alabama last second win in Athens, the 2002 Man Enough Game, the 2008 Alabama victory that officially put them back on the map) but when the dust settles, we are opening each other's PBR's and toasting to the fall of the arrogant, self absorbed jerk (Florida), the obnoxious redneck (Tennessee) and the poser who drives a leased Hummer (Auburn). The Eternal Bunk Bed Theory applies to Earnhardt, Jr/Tony Stewart (Southerners like Tony, he's old school and hates the sissified NASCAR of today), UNC/South Carolina, and to an extent, Bill Dance/Jimmy Houston. (Don't ask. It's a Saturday morning Cass Grocery thing. We fought over which show to watch, but we all loved both of these guys. Don't even get me started on deer season. Dean Durham shooting a sixteen pointer in Texas vs. Denny Brauer catching snook off Marathon? Forgetaboutit.)
3) The 2004 Boston Coattail-Riding Rule (Metro Atlanta only)
When the Red Sox came back to beat the Yankees in the ALCS in 2004 and went on to win the World Series, a sudden transformation took place in metro Atlanta. Victory-starved Georgians, tired of waiting on the Braves, decided to infiltrate Dick's Sporting Goods and become Red Sox fans. Even in Athens, the fratmosphere was rife with navy blue, old English red "B" hats. People who have never been within 300 miles of Boston, have no clue who Carl Yazstremski was, or to whom I am referring when I say "Tony C," pretending to be Fenway faithful. Seriously, ask them anything about the Red Sox prior to 2004. You'll get the same blank stare you get from Florida "fans" about anything prior to 1990. When the Celtics won in 2008, the same rule applied. The last time the Hawks played Boston in Philips, the fan division was about 50/50. In this recession, I'm relatively certain that the upstanding residents of Boston and the surrounding areas did not fork over $1,500 in flights and tickets to come to Atlanta. I guess Atlanta sees itself as the Boston of the 1990's, when all of the major Boston teams were on the skids, just waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel. The difference is that Bostonians stood with their teams during those times, where Atlantans bail. Why didn't they get behind the Marlins after 1997? Why not become Yankees fans after the 1998-2000 dynasty years? Or why not the Buccaneers after 2003? It makes no sense, really. Other examples of the Coattail Rule: braindead west Georgians/Bama, illiterate north Georgia/Tennessee (1990's), frontrunning south Georgia/Florida/FSU(1990's).
4) The Auburn Conundrum of 2010
Notice how Auburn, even after winning the National Championship, did not take off in terms of gaining new fans and recognition? In 2010, I did not see the insanely drastic increase of Auburn gear on people's cars and heads like Alabama in the last year. Seriously, Alabama's fanbase quadrupled here in 2011, judging by the number of car tags, flags and brand, spanking new hats on people's heads. Are their colors too ugly? That cannot be the answer, as Florida and Tennessee gear permeated the land after their national championship years, and no color is more heinous and obnoxious as Cheetos Orange or worse, Cheetos Orange mixed with blue. Are they too far away? Nope. Auburn is 30 minutes from Columbus, Georgia. I think some of the west Georgia counties actually get to utilize in-state tuition at Auburn. Hell, they have a billboard in Atlanta, encouraging high school students to make a trip to the Plains.
I guess it's just not "sexy" to be on Auburn's bandwagon. I think the NCAA/Newton scandal so sullied the reputation of that team, that even the most frontrunning Atlantans just could not see themselves sporting Auburn gear. Maybe it was the "one and done" way it all went down. Recruits weren't falling all over themselves to go to Auburn after the 2010 season, but for some reason, they salivate like Pavlov's dogs to get to Tuscaloosa. The same principle applies to the Florida Marlins, the Chicago White Sox (if the Cubs win one, watch the influx of Cubs fans in ATL, it will be epic), and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
5) The Atlanta "Everybody Hates Chipper" Rule:
Have you ever seen a superstar so universally disliked by his own people than Chipper Jones? They complain about his contract. They complain about his Hooters waitress fetish. They complain about his numerous injuries (there's some credence there, I swear he went to the DL after Terry Pendleton "Indian rug burned" his throwing arm once) This Rule applies to superstars of teams who just can't quite win the big one on a regular basis. With fame comes responsibility and when you lose, it normally falls on guys like Chipper. Never mind he's the second best switch hitter of all time, the greatest Brave other than Hank, and helped them win their ONLY World Series....he has played his entire career in ATL without seriously considering leaving. Yet, he is still a pariah. Think about all the old stories about Mickey Mantle, Joe Namath, Muhammad Ali and Dimaggio or modern guys like Michael Jordan, Jeter, and Larry Bird? Hell, all of these guys had skeletons in their closets, big ones.....waaaaay bigger than "what's that sore on his lip?" The difference between these guys and Chipper? Winning on a consistent basis and not being in Atlanta.
Ponder this: Don Mattingly and Wade Boggs played for the Yankees and Red Sox, respectively, in the 1980's. Neither of them won a World Series title during their entire careers in New York and Boston, and for the the most part, the franchises were not successful when they played for them. However, these guys are universally revered by Yankees and Red Sox fans. Hell, Boggs finally won a ring playing for NY in the late 90's and Boston people were happy for him. Just think if Chipper defected to the Mets and won a World Series ring? Would Atlanta be happy for him? Yeah, about as happy as a Cassville native who won a free ride-along with Jeff Gordon.
Stay tuned for more Rules and Theories in the future. I'm currently working on a few theories for Cassville:
1) The "Empty 2 Cycle Oil Can" Rule
2) The "John Deere Lawnmower" Fallacy
3) The "I've Switched to Red Man Golden Blend" Theory
4) The "She Done Left Me" Syndrome
5) The "Workin' on Mah Car" Excuse
One thing Bill has done in the past is create his own rules and theories about certain players and sports. The most famous one he has done is the "Ewing Theory." Seriously, type "Ewing" into Google and The "Ewing Theory" is the first entry to pop up. Essentially, the Ewing Theory applies to players who receive an inordinate amount of attention and fan love, yet their teams never really accomplish anything with them. Then, when said player leaves the team (trades, retirement, etc.) the team rises to even greater heights. Obviously, this is a dubious homage to the career of Patrick Ewing. If you review the Knicks history while he manned the paint in Madison Square Garden, you will notice two things. Number One...he had the largest knee pads in the history of basketball. Number Two...the Knicks seemed to play better without him in the lineup. Check out Bill's article, it's very interesting and thought provoking. http://proxy.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?id=1193711
Anyhow, Bill inspired me to create some sports rules and life theories for Southerners, mainly Georgians. These rules are going to be an absolution of Southern life and fandom forever, I can feel it. I want to be quoted years from now in an internet newpaper on Mars...."yep, ol Brad called it, the Chipper Jones-Hooters-Cold Sore Theory has held up all these years." Yep, that's what I want. These rules are brought to you by Herschel Walker's Sixth Personality, Left Hand Milk Stout Beer, RC Cola and Moon Pies, and Bear Bryant's accent. Why the Bear? Because I went to Tuscaloosa in 2002 when we played Bama and their pregame video started with the Bear saying "I ain't never been nuthin but a winner" in that Arkansas/Alabama accent that was thicker than a Chicago politician's wallet. I got a chill, and they were the dang enemy that day. That man is still powerful and he's been dead for nearly thirty years. Without further delay, here are some rules and theories for Southern fans:
1) The Dale Earnhardt, Jr. Compromise
All Southerners must cheer for Junior, even though we know he will never win a Winston/Sprint/Sega/TD Waterhouse/Whatever It Will Be Next Year Cup. It's never going to happen. However, pulling for Junior is a de facto cheer for his late father, the alpha and omega of NASCAR drivers. If and when Junior wins a race, Southerners must oblige the victory with a "well, this may be the year..." discussion, speak forlornly about Dale Senior's death, and then blame Junior's failures on his crew chief. The Son of the Man cannot be held accountable, no matter how many times he finishes 20th or worse. Other examples of this Compromise: Hank Williams III, Shooter Jennings, Derek Dooley, and Mike Shula.
2) The UGA/Alabama Eternal Bunk Bed Theory
Although we are close in proximity, share our entire western border with them, and sometimes fight over who gets to be on the top bunk, we just don't hate each other. We are like eternal dorm roommates that go out for beers on Friday and hate the other guys on the hall together. Yes, we've woken each other up the night before a test and yes, when Alabama passes out after too many drinks, we will draw on their face. We've had some knock-down drag-outs (the 1976 UGA victory to seal the SEC title, the 1985 Alabama last second win in Athens, the 2002 Man Enough Game, the 2008 Alabama victory that officially put them back on the map) but when the dust settles, we are opening each other's PBR's and toasting to the fall of the arrogant, self absorbed jerk (Florida), the obnoxious redneck (Tennessee) and the poser who drives a leased Hummer (Auburn). The Eternal Bunk Bed Theory applies to Earnhardt, Jr/Tony Stewart (Southerners like Tony, he's old school and hates the sissified NASCAR of today), UNC/South Carolina, and to an extent, Bill Dance/Jimmy Houston. (Don't ask. It's a Saturday morning Cass Grocery thing. We fought over which show to watch, but we all loved both of these guys. Don't even get me started on deer season. Dean Durham shooting a sixteen pointer in Texas vs. Denny Brauer catching snook off Marathon? Forgetaboutit.)
3) The 2004 Boston Coattail-Riding Rule (Metro Atlanta only)
When the Red Sox came back to beat the Yankees in the ALCS in 2004 and went on to win the World Series, a sudden transformation took place in metro Atlanta. Victory-starved Georgians, tired of waiting on the Braves, decided to infiltrate Dick's Sporting Goods and become Red Sox fans. Even in Athens, the fratmosphere was rife with navy blue, old English red "B" hats. People who have never been within 300 miles of Boston, have no clue who Carl Yazstremski was, or to whom I am referring when I say "Tony C," pretending to be Fenway faithful. Seriously, ask them anything about the Red Sox prior to 2004. You'll get the same blank stare you get from Florida "fans" about anything prior to 1990. When the Celtics won in 2008, the same rule applied. The last time the Hawks played Boston in Philips, the fan division was about 50/50. In this recession, I'm relatively certain that the upstanding residents of Boston and the surrounding areas did not fork over $1,500 in flights and tickets to come to Atlanta. I guess Atlanta sees itself as the Boston of the 1990's, when all of the major Boston teams were on the skids, just waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel. The difference is that Bostonians stood with their teams during those times, where Atlantans bail. Why didn't they get behind the Marlins after 1997? Why not become Yankees fans after the 1998-2000 dynasty years? Or why not the Buccaneers after 2003? It makes no sense, really. Other examples of the Coattail Rule: braindead west Georgians/Bama, illiterate north Georgia/Tennessee (1990's), frontrunning south Georgia/Florida/FSU(1990's).
4) The Auburn Conundrum of 2010
Notice how Auburn, even after winning the National Championship, did not take off in terms of gaining new fans and recognition? In 2010, I did not see the insanely drastic increase of Auburn gear on people's cars and heads like Alabama in the last year. Seriously, Alabama's fanbase quadrupled here in 2011, judging by the number of car tags, flags and brand, spanking new hats on people's heads. Are their colors too ugly? That cannot be the answer, as Florida and Tennessee gear permeated the land after their national championship years, and no color is more heinous and obnoxious as Cheetos Orange or worse, Cheetos Orange mixed with blue. Are they too far away? Nope. Auburn is 30 minutes from Columbus, Georgia. I think some of the west Georgia counties actually get to utilize in-state tuition at Auburn. Hell, they have a billboard in Atlanta, encouraging high school students to make a trip to the Plains.
I guess it's just not "sexy" to be on Auburn's bandwagon. I think the NCAA/Newton scandal so sullied the reputation of that team, that even the most frontrunning Atlantans just could not see themselves sporting Auburn gear. Maybe it was the "one and done" way it all went down. Recruits weren't falling all over themselves to go to Auburn after the 2010 season, but for some reason, they salivate like Pavlov's dogs to get to Tuscaloosa. The same principle applies to the Florida Marlins, the Chicago White Sox (if the Cubs win one, watch the influx of Cubs fans in ATL, it will be epic), and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
5) The Atlanta "Everybody Hates Chipper" Rule:
Have you ever seen a superstar so universally disliked by his own people than Chipper Jones? They complain about his contract. They complain about his Hooters waitress fetish. They complain about his numerous injuries (there's some credence there, I swear he went to the DL after Terry Pendleton "Indian rug burned" his throwing arm once) This Rule applies to superstars of teams who just can't quite win the big one on a regular basis. With fame comes responsibility and when you lose, it normally falls on guys like Chipper. Never mind he's the second best switch hitter of all time, the greatest Brave other than Hank, and helped them win their ONLY World Series....he has played his entire career in ATL without seriously considering leaving. Yet, he is still a pariah. Think about all the old stories about Mickey Mantle, Joe Namath, Muhammad Ali and Dimaggio or modern guys like Michael Jordan, Jeter, and Larry Bird? Hell, all of these guys had skeletons in their closets, big ones.....waaaaay bigger than "what's that sore on his lip?" The difference between these guys and Chipper? Winning on a consistent basis and not being in Atlanta.
Ponder this: Don Mattingly and Wade Boggs played for the Yankees and Red Sox, respectively, in the 1980's. Neither of them won a World Series title during their entire careers in New York and Boston, and for the the most part, the franchises were not successful when they played for them. However, these guys are universally revered by Yankees and Red Sox fans. Hell, Boggs finally won a ring playing for NY in the late 90's and Boston people were happy for him. Just think if Chipper defected to the Mets and won a World Series ring? Would Atlanta be happy for him? Yeah, about as happy as a Cassville native who won a free ride-along with Jeff Gordon.
Stay tuned for more Rules and Theories in the future. I'm currently working on a few theories for Cassville:
1) The "Empty 2 Cycle Oil Can" Rule
2) The "John Deere Lawnmower" Fallacy
3) The "I've Switched to Red Man Golden Blend" Theory
4) The "She Done Left Me" Syndrome
5) The "Workin' on Mah Car" Excuse
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About Me
- Brad
- 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.