Bradentucky Seafood Festival; the land of white trash

“Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad.” Fyodor Dostoevsky

A man wearing only one flip flop, sits slumped over on a bench resting the side of his head on a oak tree about 20 feet from the main stage.  He is wearing a black shirt with a red confederate flag on the front that says, “You’ve got your X, we’ve got ours.”

There are other men in only slightly better condition standing behind him drinking Budweiser from cans and  smoking pot from a one-hitter that slides into a belt buckle.  Behind them, a normal looking mom and dad with three young sons eat fried foods on extra-large toothpicks.

The weather is beautiful.  It’s about 80 degrees, sunny with no clouds and very little humidity.  The kind of weather that keeps the tourists around until the snow melts in their northern hometowns.  The kind of weather that keeps the tourists clogging my streets while I try not to succumb to massive road rage.

“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me,” is the Lynyrd Skynrd song being played by the band.  About 25 to 30 people attempt to dance to the country anthem, but really just sway back and forth spilling beer on their feet without a care.  A rough, biker looking couple wades through the crowd with a pet python wrapped around both of their necks.  Little children run up to pet it, while others run away and grab their mother’s legs. Continue reading

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Dear Chris Christie (letter from a Duh’Merican)

chris-christie-eating

(Thought I would re-post this given the current debacle he’s in.  I actually heard him say that he found out about everything after he finished “working out.”  Yeah right.)

Are you really going to be running for President in 2016?  Are you really going to be the face of the Republican Party?

Well, I guess you are a fairly accurate representation of the American people.  After all, I think it’s being reported that around 36% of all American adults aged 20 and over are considered obese.

Even after your lap-band surgery, you still appear to be almost morbidly obese.  But there is plenty of time for you to “de-supersize” yourself before you make a bid for the presidency.

I’m not sure what it says about a person who has to have a band surgically implanted around their stomach to curb their voracious appetite.  This apparent lack of self control makes me a bit worried about how you may behave yourself if elected President.

Forget about religion and gay marriage, let’s talk about GMO’s and large sodas.  Yippeeee.

Could you imagine the power you would have?  You could have sexy hookers feed you chicken wings while they dancing naked around your own personal “oral”, I mean oval office. Continue reading

Extra Mayo

arbys_philly_beef_02When I asked for extra mayo on the side, she stared at me with those banjo eyes.  You know the eyes I mean.

The eyes that seem to be much farther apart than they should be.  Eyes that have watched cousins touch each other in the dark, warm areas only non-relatives should be allowed to touch.

Her quizzical expression reminded me of how a squirrel’s mind must feel when it crosses the road in front of a car safely, then darts back from where he came from. But her expression was far less urgent than the squirrel narrowly escaping death.

“Extra mayo?  You sure about that,” she said with a southern baptist twang.

“Absolutely dear.  Haven’t you ever had mayo on a philly cheese steak?” I answered a bit angrily.

And why did she give a shit about my mayo ordering habits?  After all, this was an Applebees in the deep south and not exactly a bastion for health nuts.  I naturally assumed that mayo was quite popular here. Continue reading

Ode to Mountain Dew

(I thought I would re-post this for some of my newer followers and since I continue to struggle with this addiction)

According to Wikipedia, in 1940 two Tennessee beverage bottlers named Barney and Ally Hartman invented the formula for Mountain Dew. 

Below is my tribute to those two fine men:

I walked into the 7-11 and quickly made my way to the back of the store where the drink coolers are located.  Immediately, I could see it staring back at me.

The 12-ounce, green canned goddess looking into my eyes.

It was screaming, “touch me, open me, drink me down you dirty boy.  I won’t quench your thirst, but I taste so good, so slippery and so sugary.  Everyone is drinking me, just take me, take me now.”

I couldn’t resist, I grabbed it and jumped to the cashier and butted in front of an old lady with blue hair and a walker.  I couldn’t wait.

Beads of sweat began trickling down my forehead towards my nose.  The cashier looked at me like I was a crack or meth head looking for my next hit.  Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Much like meth addiction, if I continue my assault on these green canned goddesses, my teeth are sure to start dropping out of my mouth indiscriminately. Continue reading

Golden Corral, Chocolate Fountains and the End of the World

(keep in mind, I am not a spokesperson for Golden Corral nor am I affiliated with the company in any way)

The hotly debated topic of “when the world will end” has recently taken a drastic turn to cause immediate concern.  Forget the Mayans, forget Nostradamus, forget your Bibles, forget that crazy preacher Harold Camping and everything they predict about the end of world.

The Chocolate Fountain

You don’t need ancient calendars or scripture to predict the end of the world.  All you have to do is visit your local Golden Corral.   Golden Corral?  What am I talking about, you might ask?

Well, unless you live under a rock, you have probably seen the advertisements that Golden Corral has added a spectacular chocolate fountain to their buffet dessert selection.  I know, go ahead and pinch yourself, a chocolate-freakin-fountain, it’s all too real.  But, before you pee your pants, let’s take a step back into the real world and think about this for a minute. Continue reading

Hey Oprah

Shit, that’s not Oprah….

Hey Oprah– Give it up, nobody gives a shit about you anymore.  You have your own network, wow, very impressive.

Impressive until you actually gave Rosie O’Donnell a show on it.  Thanks though for actually realizing just how shitty O’Donnell is and for cancelling her show.

Hey Oprah– your fat, your skinny, your dieting, your fat again, your skinny again.  Who gives a fuck about what you shove in your mouth?

If I had a sixteenth the money you have, I would eat Philly Cheese steaks for breakfast and chase them with mayonnaise milk shakes.

Just admit it……..you like to eat food, a lot of food.  It’s ok, you are a good American.

Hey Orpah– PLEASE STOP GIVING GIFTS TO RICH MIDDLE-AGED WHITE WOMEN.

Hey Oprah– are you really fucking that guy Stedman who lives in your guest house or is he really just a front for you to hide the fact that you enjoy licking O’Donnell’s snatch every night?

Come on, tell the truth, no one would really be surprised.  I’m guessing that’s the blackmail she used to get a show on your network because she’s about as interesting and funny as rectal cancer.

Hey Oprah– The only way I would watch your show again is if you have Geraldo Rivera on, shave his mustache while playing naked Twister with him, put the stache clippings on an extra large slice of pizza and feed it to Jay Leno while he tries to asphyxiate himself with a Doritos bag.

Hey Oprah– I really don’t hate you.  I just hate the depraved culture that created you.

It’s not your fault and to tell the truth, if I were you, I probably would be doing the same thing.  But I’d be way cooler and controversial.

Hooters (Boo Boo Kitty Fuck)

So I was in Miami for work a while ago and went to Hooters for dinner, it was across the street from my hotel.  I go for the wings, seriously.  I sat at the outside bar area because the weather was nice.

The bartender, in her tight orange shorts, asked me what I wanted to drink.  I said, “boo boo kitty fuck, how about a Heineken draft.” 

She looked at me quizzically with her perky boobs and said, “Excuse me honey, boo boo what?” 

I replied, “Boo boo kitty fuck, you passed your GED, now pass me that beer.”

She then flipped her hair for the third time in 5 seconds and said, “I don’t appreciate your language, you are rude.”

I replied, “I don’t appreciate you telling everyone you are only working at Hooters to pay for law school.  Boo boo kitty fuck, how about 10 wings with that beer, hot, with extra blue cheese.” 

She winked and brought me that beer.