Straight from the holler.

                          

  by "Buck"

March 11, 2004

My sincerest apologies for my absence in recent weeks from the report.   I cannot begin to explain how much shit has been piling up on my plate, and as luck would have it I've been forced to clean my plate before I'm allowed to leave the table.    

Perhaps when I become King, I'll consider adding an 8th day to the week and call it "Buckday."    The only things that are allowed on "Buckday" are shit that YOU want to do.  Nobody can schedule you to work, nobody can tell you to make an appointment with a doctor-because the doctors won't be working-yes I realize this will give them a fifth day off to play golf, but sacrifices must be made.    "Buckday" will never be considered a national holiday because I don't want to have to drag ass out to some fucked up parade and then have to listen to some mindless piss-ant of a politician spend my valuable "Buckday" time telling me how much he/she gives a shit about me and my future.    Nope, "Buckday" will be MY time.   I can hunt, fish, lie on the couch and eat shit that isn't good for me in various states of undress without apology.     I'll be able to work on the truck engine if that's what I want to do and drive the truck off a cliff if that strikes my fancy.  It's my day and on that day, I'm my own boss.   Ah, what a concept.    It could happen.

I'm intrigued by our new columnist from Georgia.   I spent one weekend in Athens, GA during that foggy era known as college.   It holds a special meaning in my life since it was one of the first places I "hooked up."    Happened at this shit bar in the Ramada Inn known as the "Frog Pond."  I wonder if it still exists.     Strange place Athens.  It would seem on its surface to be a redneck haven with wall to wall pickup trucks and backwoods rednecks hoisting the Stars and Bars on every lamp post.   However, it struck me as a quaint place-almost like a turd in the punchbowl-the people there seemed refined and dignified.  They actually had an air of class about them.   It was quite a white trash culture shock.

Who the hell decided that flavored coffee was a good idea?   Some dipshit at work made a pot of the sissy brew with some kind of French shit in it that I could neither pronounce nor drink.  I accidentally poured a cup-and after a sip poured it again. down the shitter.   It seemed to carry the flavor I've always imagined would be contained in a quart of panther piss.    Yes, I sit around wondering what panther piss might taste like.

Since we're on the subject of pussified coffee, looks like West Virginia is becoming a cultured place, word comes today that we'll be getting our SECOND Starbucks.   They'll be locating one in Huntington.  Until now the only place you could go to get a cup of Starbucks was a rest stop on the West Virginia Turnpike.  Guess they figured the best chance for gaining business was not from the hillbillies, but from those from other states just passing through.  With us Mountain Folk, if it ain't Maxwell House it ain't shit.  (Double negative intended)

The West Virginia Turnpike offers another interesting place, it's called Tamarack.   This is for all intents and purposes a high-classed craft fair.   Craft fairs, by their very nature are a drag.  They are second only to flea markets in the list of irritating places to waste time.   West Virginia is infested with craft fairs during the summer.  People bring out loads of tacky windmills shaped like a duck,  tater and onion boxes, silhouette cutouts of old men and coon dogs all for you to buy and trash up your yard or home.    Tamarack is different.  It's all produced by West Virginia craftsmen-but the difference is the price.   How about a coffee table for $15,000.  I shit you not!   Some of this stuff is  just as tacky as the plywood granny bending over in her spotted underwear and it costs enough to feed a family of five for a year.  Who the hell buys this shit?  Certainly nobody on a West Virginia income-maybe it's the rich Canadians traveling south for the winter.   That's why it's out on the Turnpike.  Put it anywhere else and it would instantly fail.   

The big story up here in the news has been a guy in Wyoming County, West Virginia who's making $300,000 a year running the local senior citizens agency.   Hell our governor only makes about $100,000.    He's apparently bamboozled this troop of 90-year old geriatrics who serve on his board and set his salary.  They've given him a gravy train of epoch proportions.   Looks like the end is near, every politician in the state is raising hell and nobody will rest until he's denounced and busted down to food stamp levels.   Welcome to West Virginia where the best way to get rich is raid the government. 

The NCAA tournament is here and I'm looking forward to several days of watching basketball in a catatonic state.  It's about the only time of the year I give a shit about basketball-but the tournament is a colorful spectacle, especially when the underdog wins.  Cinderella is always a neat story.    Perhaps I'll have to declare a couple of back-to-back "Buckdays" next week to watch the games.   One drawback to it all, those dickheads from upstairs will be running around like a bunch of pansies and professional prognosticators filling in their brackets.   Shit, just watch the games and quit taking the fun out of it by trying to prop yourself up like you're some kind of an expert.  For God's sake, nobody gave a shit about college basketball until this week.

Looks like the government is now deciding I can't Supersize my McD's meal any more.  Fuckers.  It's actually a good idea... french fries suck when they're cold.  I've been known to wait patiently while the fresh fries are made.  My dream is to eat them right out of the boiling oil.  Trouble is with the super-size fries, they are so big by the time you get to the last third of the box, and they're cold and suck.    I'm becoming increasingly irritated however with people busting on me for eating bad.    It's none of their fucking business.  If I want to enjoy a pair of matching double-cheeseburgers in clenched fists, then by shit, I'll do it.   Get over your fucking self and find something else to while away your time as you waste my tax dollars on a bunch of bullshit.   So a kid in New York sues McDonalds because he's a fatass.   Nobody made him eat there every day.  He could have grazed on grass in Central Park and developed the scours just as easily-does that mean he could sue the fertilizer company. It's equally absurd.    

Holy Shit, I've just discovered I've been ranting like Chris the Angry White Guy.  I didn't mean for that to happen, it just did.  I'm in serious need of a month's worth of "Buckdays."  Thank about it-we could all use one now and then.

Buck Out

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