I have never been to New York City. I’m sure that’s a shocking revelation to those of you who have read my rants here. I’d like to visit—you know like a tourist and see if all of that stuff I see on TV actually exists or if it’s all a big ruse. I have a relative who lives there and believe it or not a girl I went to high school with owns a swanky pad in SoHo. I’ve exchanged a few e-mails with her since we had our high school reunion last fall. She’s educating me on the meaning of certain names. I’m sure none of this is big news to you guys, but it might impress you to know that a hillbilly from West Virginia knows that “SoHo” means South of Houston Street…and it’s pronounced HOUSE-ton, not HUES-ton (like Texas). Whew, glad she told me that since I wouldn’t want anybody to think I was a hillbilly tourist if I ever wind up in NYC. I also learned that Tribeca means “Triangle Below Canal Street”. She also said Canal Street is where I could buy a bootlegged DVD or a fake designer handbag---you know, just in case I’d want to.

I haven’t determined if I’ll visit NYC, but I’ll sure let you know how it goes if I ever get up the courage to do so.

My oversexed widow neighbor across the street and her flavor of the month installed flowers and mulch in the yard of the home in which they cohabitate this week. This means two things—one he’s survived another season and two now I have to do the same shit to keep up with them. I shiver to think I have the shabbiest yard on the block. I’m a little anal about it all. It’s even more frustrating since I don’t understand how a lot of stuff works in the landscaping and yard keeping business. Most of my knowledge is from trial and error—and repeated disasters.

I went fishing the other day. As I was pulling away from the dock a friend of mine gave me a full rotisserie chicken. They were two-for one at Wal-Mart so he gave me the second. About noon I started clawing at the carcass like a caveman and tossing bits of slimy skin into the water. Wayward ducks were trailing my boat hoping for more. It’s the first time I ever saw a duck eat a chicken. …and yet it happened!

I witnessed a car wreck the other day—and it was a doozy. I was at a four-way intersection waiting my turn. It was the time for the car directly across from me to pull out—yet she didn’t look and a car coming from my left didn’t stop. BAM!!! T-bone express. Things went a little nuts after that. The woman got out of the car, apparently unhurt and screamin’ and hollerin’. When the cops finally showed up they discovered a whole bunch of crack in the car. Oops…but the accident was the other guy's fault. I had to give a statement. Now I’m on the record and some Nicaraguan Cartel Leader may be dispatched to my neighborhood to “hush me.” I’m a little nervous about it if you want the truth---but like any good West Virginian I have a .45 pistol under my truck seat and a loaded gun hidden in every room of the house. I’ll be ready.

My neighbor got a new coon dog the other day. He had this pup carrying on in the yard while he was chugging Budweiser and bragging it up. His statement was something like, “Yep, traded Charlie a screen door for that thing!” He was extremely proud of his door for a dog deal. It’s just how stuff is done here. Local radio stations have shows called “The Swap Shop” or the “Tradin’ Post”. This is a local phenomenon in which people call in to offer junk for sale or trade and call in to say they are in need of junk. These shows are hilarious—so funny because none of it is made up, it’s deadly serious business. A 9:00am on a Saturday the horse trading literally begins.

Host: Morning, you’re on the Swap Shop

Caller: Yeah, I got four snow tires for sale, I’ll take 20-dollas a piece for ‘em. They're in purty good shape. I got a lawnmower..it don’t run, but it would be good for parts. The wife’s got a set of china—two of the plates is broken and another one is chipped. We’ll take 15 dollars or the best offer…and I got hog for sale….

Host: (Interrupts caller)…okay man we’ve got to move along since we have to limit you to three items. That’s four snow tires, a broken down lawnmower, and a partial set of china—got it.

Caller: Don’t forget the hog…and can I also announce a yard sale?

Host: (long sigh) Sure, go ahead.

Caller: Okay, the Mt. Davis Church of God of the Holy Brethren of Missionary Baptists will be having a yard sale Saturday in the parking lot of the church. They’ll be good food served too and an old time gospel sing afterwards….if it rains, we’ll have it in Arbeautice Gutherie’s garage. She’s got that big garage since her husband died and she don’t drive no more….

Host: (cuts him off) Okay, thanks for the call, we have to move a long….Good Morning, you’re on the Swap Shop.

Second Caller: Yeah, I’m looking for a lawnmower for parts!!

Sometimes you’ll get four solid hours of this stuff. So funny you’ll piss your pants and be announcing it to the world.