by "Buck"

December 4, 2003

BACK IN THE SADDLE -- I realize I've been away from my reporting duties here at the WVSR.Com for far too long.  I'm sure many of you are riveted to your screen-savers clamoring for the answer to that one question.  "Did Buck get a deer?"    Well, see for yourself by clicking here.  Truly amazing what a Chevrolet Silverado doing 70 miles an hour can really do.

DEER HUNTING RECAP - The first day of deer season was miserable.  The day started nice enough-a warm 65 degrees and a very orange sunrise.. something to take note of according to the old adage.  "Red sun in the morning, dipshit standing outside all day take warning."   By noon the temperature had dropped to 30-degrees and the sun had clouded over with a deluge of rain, followed by sleet.  Tuesday and Wednesday were sunny, but cold.  I killed a deer each day and the freezer on the front porch of the shack beside the couch is stocked for the winter.

FAMILY OBLIGATIONS - As much as I would have rather frozen my nuts off at Mountaineer Field watching WVU beat Temple, I instead agreed to attend a family member's wedding.  This is a distant relative whom I didn't know very well, but nevertheless I felt obligated to make an appearance.  The nuptials fit literally EVERY stereotype you've ever heard about West Virginia.  The bride and groom met while working at Burger King and she was pregnant.  They were supposed to get married in June, but decided to move up the date so she could still fit into the dress.  Shotgun weddings are common in these parts.
 
The ceremony was supposed to be at 2:00, it was delayed a half-hour when the minister (full blown fire and brimstone guy with a bad three piece suit and gnarled, old hands likely scarred from years of snakebites) announced the bride and groom had forgotten their rings.

The father and mother of the groom were embroiled in a bitter divorce and refused to speak.  The mother wore blue jeans and a white shirt with flowered embroidery on the front.  The father of the groom wore a white shirt, unironed, with roses embroidered on the front-one of which was covered by his home-made boutonnière.   The groomsmen numbered six-only one of which wore a tie (clip-on) and five had mullets, including his father.  The groom also sported a fashionable mullet.   

The bride was dignified sporting a white dress.  (Yes there were whispers about that, but there always are at a hillbilly hitching)  The father of the bride wore a tux as did the groom.   

The bridesmaids looked like a throwback fashion show.  All of them wore last year's prom dress-or at least the last one they had worn, whenever that might have been.  Some wore hand-me-downs that didn't fit.  None of the colors were the same.   I'm not proclaiming myself a fashion maven here-but even I thought that was a little tacky.

I guess the most shocking moment of this odd affair came at the reception.  As usual we gathered in a local fire hall to await the arrival of the new couple.  The bride walked in-without the groom.  He came strolling in about ten-minutes later with his best man.  BOTH WORE RATTY DALE EARNHARDT CAPS ON BACKWARD.  We later learned they had stopped for a smoke at the door before coming on in to eat.  Quite an experience I must say.

OVERHEARD AT THE RECEPTION - During the chattiness that follows such get-togethers over potato salad and fried chicken I overheard the groom's father talking to a woman who had to be crowding 70-years old.  He asked how she was doing and if she was "getting any."  She replied "No, but I'm always looking."  He then proceeded to say, in front of his estranged wife, "When I finally give her that damn divorce maybe you and I could hitch up."  She replied she had no desire to marry, but they could shack-up together.  I think the whole thing was in jest-but I'm not certain.

DISNEY UPHEAVAL - So the last remaining member of the Walt Disney family has resigned from the company's board of directors.  Roy Disney left in a huff and in his letter blasted CEO Michael Eisner and suggested he resign as well.  I have a few more names to add to the list of those that should leave the Disney payroll.

--The bitch running It's A Small World
    
--The asshole greeter at that overpriced fancy-schmancy restaurant in the castle
    
--The security dickhead who parked me in Alabama during our visit
    
--The motherfucker driving the tram who figured he was at the nearby Richard Petty driving school rather than the Magic Kingdom parking lot.
    
--Those stupid assholes who asked me to take a survey of how much I liked the park.  When I first informed them I wasn't interested they kept pestering.  When I agreed and told them I thought the place was a shit hole, they were indignant and wouldn't accept my criticisms.
     
--A complete dismissal of any and all who have ever referred to the joint as "The Happiest Place on Earth."   Liars, liars, liars.

SHOPPING INSANITY - My wife was among those who decided it would be "fun" or "sporting" to venture into a retail establishment on the opening day of "Nuts only shopping season."  She and my mother-in-law, along with her aunt, are complete gluttons for punishment.  They left our Morgantown compound at 5:00 Friday morning in preparation for a day of aggressive shopping.  They went to the same retail shopping outlet as all West Virginians. Wal-Mart.  They arrived an hour before the doors were due to open.  They found a line as long as three football fields of people and shopping carts.   There are unconfirmed reports that the first dozen people in line actually had a pit-crew changing right side rubber on the buggies and topping of the tank for the green flag start.  My wife showed far more sense than I gave her credit for when she announced they would NOT be involved in such madness.  They went to Profitts instead-where it was far calmer.  They later visited the Big Smiley Face and got what they needed.  

SPEAKING OF THAT - Did you see the video from Bossier City, LA at the Toys-R-Us?  That blonde Cajun was refusing to take shit from another woman cutting line.  She was ready to throw-down-and eventually did.  Perhaps Mr. Kay can locate the video-it was a bit overplayed since no blows were exchanged, but the woman trying to cut line looked weak and intimidated.  I'm sure after the cameras stopped rolling she ran home and climbed under a pile of coats.  The supreme embarrassment had to be the fact that ESPN used it in the opening of SportsCenter all day.  Nothing says Holiday Cheer like a cat fight at the entrance to an overpriced and politically correct toy store.

THE MOUNTAINEERS - Well, West Virginia is headed to the Gator Bowl on New Years Day.  That's a fitting tribute to a team that has performed admirably in the last seven weeks-winning seven in a row after a 1 and 4 start is nothing short of incredible.  I have to say I had my doubts following that drubbing at the hands of Cincinnati, but hats off to them for never saying die.  Unfortunately, I won't be able to attend the bowl game-therefore I'll leave the duty to another person to take the Smoking Fish to the stadium and get some really odd pictures from the game.  My ultimate goal is to get a picture of The Mountaineer mascot holding the Smoking Fish.  Someday, it's going to happen...hey, I got Goofy at Disney World to hold the fish, so I have a track record. 

WHAT THE HELL? - I just saw a television commercial for Aveeno Stress Relieving Body Wash.   Can there really be such a thing?   I mean come on, if a bath relieved stress wouldn't we be the cleanest nation on the planet?    If all it took was warm water and some of the Aveeno Snake Oil-er I mean Stress Relieving Body Wash wouldn't they be charging far more for it?   Perhaps the folks who've been on strike at Kroger for more than two months now could work in the Aveeno Stress Relieving Body Wash as a concession for healthcare.   Stress relieving my ass.  If it actually works AS ADVERTISED, it better have a blonde bombshell with 40-inch knockers and strong hands jump out of the bottle naked and perform a free  rubdown.  Yeah, I know it's the old "I Dream of Jeanie" plot-but Barbara Eden was stacked and wore a rack even a five-year old could enjoy.

SEASONAL CONFUSION - Although last week was the opening of shopping season nationally, it was an even bigger season in West Virginia-the opening of deer season as I've documented.  Somebody apparently got the two confused.  I was told a guy dressed in blaze orange was seen gutting a Wal-Mart employee in the electronics department.  That would certainly explain the tree stand erected on the pole in the bread aisle.  The same confusion would also explain why a woman with a handbag the size of a Plymouth tapped me on the shoulder in the woods last week and asked where she could find the Braun Oral-B.

FUCK NASCAR - I've given up.  I was once a proud fan of the Number 3 Car and Dale Earnhardt.  Like most good hillbillies I screamed insanely at the television on Sunday afternoons in the summer when the Intimidator would slingshot and scream past some of the pussified younger drivers.  I met Dale Earnhardt in his rookie season when he brought his car to the local Magic Mart.  He was cool and treated me with honesty and respect-despite my being eight years old.    However, I'm a purist of NASCAR.  I've been watching races since Cale Yarborough won by 8-laps at Bristol, and I WAS THERE-well before they ever heard of a pre-race inspection and cheating was an art form and considered being the better mechanic.  I was a fan when guys jumped out of the car and literally pulled tools out of a bag and jumped under the hood themselves.  Today the sport has gone totally puss.  Drivers get out of their cars, put on $600 sunglasses and are whisked away to a waiting Lear Jet to rub elbows with the big shots of a sponsor corporation.  I can't even name five NASCAR drivers these days and I bet only a handful have ever turned a wrench or busted a knuckle replacing brake pads.  Hell, I doubt half of them have ever seen a brake pad-other than to hold one in some fucked up commercial.  Nope I'm washing my hands of the whole damn push.  Ever since Dale took his last ride at Daytona the sport hasn't been the same.  It used to be a hillbilly hit parade, now it's a bunch of city slickers who learned to drive cars with a PlayStation 2.  The fans are a bunch of lame asses.  They've jumped on a bandwagon towed by big media and Madison Avenue.  They've learned the lingo from ESPN, their knowledge of track positioning comes from NASCAR Thunder 2000, and they wear gaudy looking overpriced jackets and create theme rooms in their homes to their favorite driver.  What a bunch of horse shit.  Half of these self proclaimed experts don't know a lug nut from a cashew.  The bitter end comes when Jeff Gordon appeared on the Today Show with Katie Couric this week-the ultimate sign we've reached critical mass.  This is one area where the roots definitely do not run deep-except in the darkest hollows and swamps of the south-and it is where I'm deciding to cut all ties.   My final word to NASCAR.. Go Fuck Yourself-you've already fucked the original race fans.

CONCLUSION - Well that should put a lid on this one.  I'll try to think of more insightful things in the coming days.  I try to keep these short and sweet for a couple of reasons-one I realize it's painful reading to consider the trials and tribulations of my screwed up world and second. well, I'm just not really long winded. 

                           <<previous next>>

                                    
                 The West Virginia Surf Report!