| Straight
from the holler.
by "Buck" March 4, 2005 At the risk of sounding like a brown-nosing, cock-sucking weasel, I’ve been contemplating a review of the WVSR. I actually think our good friend Jeff Kay has struck upon the perfect combination. I was considering this the other day, as I was finishing up with the daily constitution of reading the WVSR and getting on back to work. I can’t miss the update—on day’s his sorry ass doesn’t post, I’m in turmoil. I get the feeling a lot of you are that way…judging from the comments section on holidays. Kay has the first tool you need to do a proper web log—an ability to write with wit and humor. Few would argue that anyone who’s comfortable with self-deprecation has a gift. It takes a mighty big man to know his faults—trust me, I have a laundry list of mine that over time I’ve learned to accept and actually embrace. Kay also writes in "snippets". He doesn’t use the WVSR as a diatribe toward a cause. His shit isn’t trying to convince us that black helicopters are hovering or George Bush is the anti-Christ, or that the moon and stars in the Proctor and Gamble logo has satanic overtones. Nope—he just tells us about mundane shit in his life—which we all can relate too—and pokes fun at it. Occasionally a few feelings get hurt—but really, who gives a shit. There’s also the occasional "bonus" if you can call Metten or myself such a thing. There’s a daily web cam shot and the Further Evidence..And you’re out. You can finish the WVSR daily in about 10-minutes….15 if you leave a comment behind. That’s perfect, but unfortunately I feel a bit let down after it’s over—almost like I missed something. I dread getting to the end of the update and having to return to work. I obviously have issues. An update on our legalization of moonshine legislation here in West Virginia. Damn revenuers! Having read Metten’s update this week and taken a look at Jeff’s "renovated" living room I feel like that guy from the New York Times who got busted for stealing other people’s stuff…but here goes. When I was in college our living room was perfect. We had the wire spool coffee table, which was stolen from the power company. Ours actually had some wire left on it—which we thought was a great conversation starter. The end tables were old lettuce crates fished out a dumpster behind Kroger’s (we use the ‘s in W.Va.). This was university housing—but still an apartment and had a TILE floor—like you would see in a classroom. Fuck Dat…I stole three carpet remnants from the dumpster and we were good to go. In fact it was the perfect color that we cold spit chewing tobacco on it and nobody noticed. Supposedly this was a "furnished" apartment—but the original "couch" looked like something from a 1970’s era doctor’s office waiting room. It had no arms, a straight back and set, and was naugahyde. I shit you not. We replaced it with a couch from my parents’ storage barn. This couch had been rescued from the dump some 20-years earlier and had been sitting in storage with about 500 pounds of books on it. Needless to say it was flat and the springs were shot…but what the fuck—it was after all made of cloth. It was all well and good until my roommate—the equivalent of Metten’s Star Wars geek, nailed a drunk chick on it one night and there were the nastiest stains you ever saw OR smelled. We eventually deep sixed the cushions and bought new ones at the Salvation Army thrift store. I would guess we had about $22 invested in the décor, and a $5,000 entertainment center at the head of the room. Those truly WERE the days. I’m trying to figure which of Metten’s figures I would have been. I’m 6’5" 300 pounds—and at one time actually had some athletic skill—well I played football….I was stout, and in decent shape. However, I always studied hard. I think I would have rather had one of my nuts nailed to a closet door than to tell my old man I flunked out. On the other hand, I was everybody’s friend because I could get cheap liquor—that would get you drunk in a third of the time. Chicks never really dug me, because I was shy when I was sober and obnoxious when I was drunk….and those were really my only two faces for about four years. This self-evaluation is becoming depressing so I’ll move on. I remember one of my roommates, the owner of the $5,000 entertainment center, had an extensive collection of pornography. He had all of those weird fetish videos. Some of the material was downright frightening…. Horny Pregnant Lesbian Nuns, Chicks Getting it on in Slaughterhouse, he even had a "snuff" film or two—where they guy basically does the chick and then whacks off her head with a meat cleaver. He was basically a normal guy—and since none of them had guys doing guys—we were willing to deal with it. Some people collect stamps, some collect bottle caps, he collected odd and obscure porno movies—everybody has to have a hobby. What’s remarkable was that he amassed this extensive collection in the days before the Internet. I imagine he had to visit some pretty seedy places to come up with some of that shit. Anyway he was always willing to share. He actually hosted the floor’s annual Friday Nigh Porno Festival. We’d all watch his collection for a couple of hours while chugging moonshine until about 8:00…then go out to the bars and either get laid or start a fight---like I said, we all needed a hobby. Well, I’ll take you down memory lane again some other time—maybe next week if the mood strikes me….until then I’m available for contact at Moonshinebuck@yahoo.com Buck Out |
