| Straight
from the holler.
by "Buck" September 8, 2005 Jeff's trip to the Italian Festival in Scranton reminded me of another ethnic laced event that we used to have every year at our high school, Apple Butter Days. (Imagine Jeff Kay at that thing---like a crack head in a snowstorm) This event was staged every year at our school and dedicated to the preservation of the old Appalachian lifestyle. A bunch of people in period dress would show up and do a bunch of shit. They'd make apple butter, apple cider, there was an apple pie eating contest (I'm two time champion thank you very much). They would have homemade quilts on display in the library. There was a story teller "spinnin' a yarn" in the chorus room while a bluegrass band complete with a jug and washboard played tunes in the band room. The cafeteria served soup beans and cornbread for the day. There was actually a tobacco SPITTING contest (Two time champion of that too, thank you very much). The football practice field was covered with ancient farm equipment and one end was turned into a shooting range where you could fire a black powder rifle or bow and arrow. It was a full-on hillbilly celebration. Classes were pretty much scrubbed for the day—and we took in all that stuff. It was great fun, and amazingly there were no inbreeding jokes. The club that put on the whole shindig was, appropriately, The Apple Butter Gang.
You know, I'm pretty pissed about this whole, quit using tobacco attitude. I mean, when I was a kid everybody, at least the boys, chewed tobacco. We chewed when I played little league baseball. I don't advocate people starting, but at the time it was considered acceptable behavior. We all did it and nobody really said much about it. I still enjoy a good chew—it's one of those few luxuries I still get any enjoyment from. Therefore, to those of you, who are indignant sons-of-bitches, shut the fuck up.
They now say the Superdome will have to be torn down. That may be the most amazing story out of all of the amazing stories we've seen in the past couple of weeks. I've been in the Superdome a couple of times. I went to the Sugar Bowl once when Tennessee played there and was back a few years ago when the Bass Masters Classic was staged there. I remember how intrigued I was with all the little hamlets around New Orleans during that event. St. Tammany Parish, Houma, Slidell, Mandeville, Venice—such names. I always considered that Delta region of Louisiana a shithole. It was hot, and there was rampant poverty and rundown shacks all over the place—but the people had a certain charm about them. That accent wins you over—and you come away after a few days actually weaving the Cajun dialect into your own language. The Superdome, to me, looked like an absolute rock. It was one of those places you'd expect to survive a nuclear blast. Guess that shows how much of an engineering genius I am.
The things that went on inside the Superdome are apparently nothing short of a scene from the Lord of the Flies. There are varying stories of rape, robbery, murder, piles of bodies and the like coming out of those who were there. It's now closed, sealed off—and apparently never to be opened again. Who would really want to return there anyway? Oprah Winfrey. I saw an excerpt from her show where she was literally restrained to stay out of that place. The Mayor of New Orleans was telling her, you don't want to go in there….The Big O is hell bent on getting in….my guess is to use the shock value of what she'll find to boost ratings…making money off morbid curiosity. Some of the people and how they are handling this are just shameful.
Gilligan finally bought the Island this week. Bet you didn't know that in his later years he lived here in West Virginia. Yep, his wife is apparently from here—he came home with her, loved it, bought a mountain top compound and set up housekeeping. He even had his own radio station out of his house called "Little Buddy Radio WGAG." It's hard to believe Gilligan's Island went off the air five-years before I was born and I've probably seen every episode half a dozen times over the years. That's a mark of a pretty good show. I recall a few years ago, Gilligan had "an incident" at the compound. He apparently got a package from the lady who played Mary Ann—I can't remember her name—but it apparently had pot inside. Oops…busted. Mary Ann—Mary Jane—the 1960's …who'd have imagined that.
I saw another Jeff Foxworthy standup on Comedy Central the other night. I can't help it, I like the guy—for that matter I crack up at the whole Blue Collar Comedy gig….it strikes so close to home that I can identify with all of their comments. Foxworthy was talking about how women often complain they can't figure out how men think. He was dead on the money when he said it's not complicated at all….Men are ALWAYS thinking two things…..I want a beer, and I want to see something nekkid. Amen Brother.
Buck Out |
