Friday, July 3, 2015

Dealing with the Meth Lab Guys

Little tell-tale signs of corruption have even crept into the boondocks of Tennessee and North Carolina.  Whereas before the local miscreants were content to indulge in moonshining or occasionally shooting up highway signs, some riff-raff from the corrupt big cities of the Southeast made inroads into the peaceful mountain setting once more predictable in a gentler time.  Yes, some other illicit businesses got established: meth labs and prescription medicine suppliers, the new blight of the South.  About as welcome as a revival in a hard-drinking community like Tuscaloosa.*

So Bubba and Billy Bob looked with jaundiced eyes on the parvenu criminals.  However, being men of action, they decided to sashay over to the front porch and do some serious thinking in company with serious drinking.  Soon the Red-headed Schoolteacher got out of one of their beds, and joined them on the porch.  It was summer, and she liked her time off.  Hellfire, the kids and parents were plumb tiring!

On the subject itself that was bothering the boys, Billy Bob said that they oughta call the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation on the meth boys.  But The Schoolteacher demurred, saying that they were in North Carolina and those Tennesseeans don't know Jack somebody or other.**  Likewise, tipping the Fed narcs might result in too much nosiness into the doins' of the Appalachian region and hurt their own business.

So, why not a little subterfuge.  If there's no nothing to worry about, make something up!

So they happened to go into a tavern where the local hoods tended to favor, and talked about their new jobs.  Yes, they said that business was bad, so they got jobs with the State Board of Disease Control to help control a new brand of mosquito, the Fililou mosquito, which carried a virus that caused a lot of itching and those bitten to develop moobs!

One meth manufacturer asked, "What's that?"  And Bubba gestured with his hands around his chest.  He also said, "Ask that purty l'il lady over theah," pointing to the Redheaded Schoolteacher.  

She said, "Yeah, that dratted sickness gave me these (accentuating her ample chest); and it causes some people to play banjo music!"

The big city pill-pushers and meth-makers shuddered, knowing what might happen when you hear banjo music!***  And they left the county, back to dreadful places like Atlanta where they got to be the skerry ones! 

*Said to be a drinking city with a football problem.
**Supposedly, he's a good man to know.
***Does the movie Deliverance ring a bell?

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

A Juggalo for President

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

It seems that Presidential race has gone into a rabbit hole of weirdness, with some late entries having about as much chance as a snowball in Hell!  (That's a sno-cone to some heathens!)  Anyway, what's to be made about The Donald tossing his hat into the ring?  Maybe that he needs a good haircut, for starters.

Actually, I think it's some kind of Republican conspiracy (or a Great Right Wing Conspiracy, as Hillary would say).  It's a fiendish plan to make whoever is the ultimate Republican nominee look good by contrast.  Now the Republicans have several possibilities that it's hard to keep them straight.  There's the Fat Guy from Jersey, there's the personality-free one from Florida, there's Rand Paul, and whatever he's for, Somebody-or-other Rubio, I think, Bobby Jindal, Mike Huckabee, and others of this ilk.  Poor Bobby Jindal; the press has it in for him.

Against this the Democrats have the nonawesome and inevitable Hillary Clinton, who will make people pay big time if she doesn't get the nomination, and Bernie Sanders to provide comic relief and pretty cool concession speeches.  

Can things get any stranger?  Well, one of the parties could nominate a Juggalo for President!  Think of this: a candidate dressed like a clown, spraying Faygo all over the place, and shouting "Whoop, whoop!"  And Brian Williams will have a press assignment that he's up to.

Juggalos, for those like me unaware of them before (like me), are serious followers of the Insane Clown Posse, a group of musical idiots that even in my younger years thought was too over the top.  Juggalos dress up like psychopathic clowns* (is that redundant?), do drugs, shout "Whoop, whoop," and spray everyone with Faygo, a cheap beverage from Detroit.  Juggalettes, or their female followers, go in for similar excesses, including seminudity.  Some Juggalos allegedly are in criminal gangs, but others just take fandom to excess not ever conceived of by Deadheads or Swifties!

I must have led a sheltered life.  I never conceived of such horrors lurking in our culture!  But I'm disabused of that, seeing this clown car motley crew* all running for President!  Oh my God!  In less than two years, one of those will actually have the capability of launching a nuclear war!  

*I don't like clowns.  Don't send in the clowns.
**I mean this in a bipartisan way.  A pox on them all!


Monday, June 29, 2015

Unclaimed Baggage and the Retail Chain

For those going a bit out the way, there's an Unclaimed Baggage store in Scottsboro, Alabama.  This is where the stuff that either gets misdelivered or forgotten in the Arrivals luggage carousels winds up.  It's a wonderland, mixing both the prosaic and the weird.  But Scottsboro has an air of that anyway.

Still, some of the stuff that winds up there remains unsold.  Here's where the  purveyors of tacky in the various flea markets and yard sales get into the act.  Some of these items are purchased with the idea of reselling them with some markup.  Well, it's good when it works.

This one was not picked up be a reseller because it's a hard item to sell; but someone might want these for an Elvis wedding in Las Vegas or Gatlinburg:

Billy Donahue bought 500 risqué t-shirts of various sizes for resale at Dirty Dick's flea market.  Suddenly the tastes of trashy people in the Dayton area markedly bottomed out!

And what did Corey do with all those used panties of various sizes?  Well, she sold them to naive frat boys who wanted to achieve some stolen glory as real studs.

Not all of these purchases are easily sold.  However, Millicent Buford became the prime supporter of Puerto Rico or Guam statehood after she bought 200 51-star American flags at $4.95 each.

Three dozen moose heads migrated further down the food chain after a conglomerate bought them for resale in Boston.   You can bet that 36 hunter wannabees would eventually be made happy!

You can even purchase  I (heart) NY wear at the Unclaimed Baggage Center.

The Masters of War in urban settings found little in terms of armaments there; however, foot soldier dope peddlers found some burners to make some deals on.  These drove the narcs nuts, trying to found out why so many pushers relocated.  Clearly, it could only be organized crime in action.

Someone gratefully snapped up a muu-muu with a Tabasco sauce pattern on it.  She was one red hot Mama!

Future guitar heroes can find one at the Unclaimed Baggage Center:

Yes, you can but some nifty clergymen outfits there.  This would go with your mail-order ministry position from that mail order seminary.

Friday, June 26, 2015

The Summer Romances

One of the hazards of being a teen is that of being taken out of your safe, predictable environment to go on a family vacation for a week or so.  Now that sort of thing rocked when you were a little kid; but many teens turn very conservative when it comes to sudden environmental changes.  Even ones that turn out semi-okay, like Baby had in Dirty Dancing.  

A rule of thumb, though: seldom do you meet guys while on such family trips, and the likelihood of one being able to dance is, whatever, slim to none.  So when Brenda found herself with her family, 'rents, bro, and sis, she expected a week about as dull as a sermon by some ancient preacher!  

However, in arriving at Destin, the beach and water looked so inviting, so she suited up, bringing along her cell phone to keep up with back home doings.  This was a concession to civilization.  However, it was not entirely primitive: there were nearby shops and concession stands.  So Brenda staked out her claim on the beach with her towel, and started working on her tan.  Time well-spent for that healthy look!  

Still, it got boring after a short time.  Being hot and inactive does that.  Soon a baseball rolled sort of in her direction, so she lazily looked where it could have come from, and there were two guys about her age.  Their names were Matt and Louie.  Yes, they were attractive; no, make that damned good-looking!  Now things looked less dull; someone else to hang out with.  So they did.  They took walks along the water, seeing the sandpipers and little fish and even a sting ray now and then.  It's good to wear trainers while in the water because of that!

Suffice to say, it was like Brenda done died and went to Heaven!  And not the Budget Annex Heaven, either.  This was the Real Deal Heaven for Teen Girls!  The odds were shifted demographically in her favor, Brenda experienced.  And not losers, either.  No rough no-count trashy guys or hoods, no rednecks, no scary older dudes!

Brenda, Matt, and Louie got along together mostly well; but at times the two guys seemed to prefer that they would get to be one-on-one with Brenda.  It was, in general, a great time.  And Brenda was not put in the position of having to choose and relegate the other to the friend zone.  This idyllic kept for the remainder of the summer vacation, with some spontaneous moments of affection with both of them: kissing and light necking, nothing really to see or hear, y'all.  It continued with an avid correspondence with both guys through the fall.  Brenda did not worry that she had driven a wedge into the already-existing friendship.  Just happy memories.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


I will cheerfully own up to being clueless about beers, except I know what I like.  However, a nice beer label arouses my curiosity.  Like, what does Clown Shoes Tramp Stamp beer taste like?

Just so it isn't like a Viking funeral!

Coconut porter is a new concept.  Still, those are nice labels:

Chocolate beer is a hard sell; maybe a Sex Panther label would help:

I tried this.  It's actually good!


What's a moose knuckle?

The slogan is a winning one:

It's a local beer; but it's good:

Bad Froggie!  Your attitude reeks:

Not your average imported beer:

Not a good choice for timid guys with survival instincts:

Is this brewed in Jersey Shore?  Does Snooki and JWoww drink this?

Apparently a Butterface is a local with bad hair and teeth:

Don't blame him if the neighborhood is bad:

Stay classy, y'all: 

What would a monk's mistress drink?

Finally, this porter may have been named Sweet Baby Jesus! Porter because it has chocolate and peanut butter in it:

Here's to your health and good times!  Drink sensibly!

Monday, June 22, 2015

What Is the Rudest City?

A few years ago, Travel + Leisure did a poll on what was the rudest city.  You can read the article, or simply use my summary.  Anyway, here's the Top Twenty:

1.  New York City
2.  Miami
3.  Washington, D. C.
4.  Los Angeles
5.  Boston
6.  Dallas/Fort Worth
7.  Atlanta
8.  Phoenix/Scottsdale
9.  Baltimore
10.  Orlando, FL
11.  Philadelphia
12.  Las Vegas
13.  Anchorage
14.  Chicago
15.  San Francisco
16.  Houston
17.  Seattle
18.  Providence, R.I.
19.  San Diego
20.  Salt Lake City

I found some of these to be surprising, to say the least.  

But the different cities showed different reactions to it.

1.  New Yorkers, predictably enough, donned NY Yankees caps and wore foam fingers asserting that they were Numbah One!

2.  Miamians shrugged and head over to South Beach to work on their butt tans.

3.  Washingtonians blamed their high ranking on the other political party.

4.  Angelinos swore bilingually at Travel + Leisure for disrespecting them with a rating no higher than fourth.

5.  Bostonians demanded a recount.

6.  Dallas citizens who noticed the results complained that it was a conspiracy, somehow.

7.  Atlanta blamed its top ten ranking on Georgia crackers.

8.  Phoenix residents found it hot enough; and didn't want to get hot and bothered.

9.  Baltimore responded that their rudeness was an endearing trait of Charm City.

10.  Orlando blamed it on Mouse fans of being pushy and driving poorly.

11.  Philadelphia pointed out that they did get rated less rude than the previous year.

12.  The Las Vegas city government attributed it to Californian weekenders.

13.  Anchorage wondered if there was some kind of cosmic upheaval, or was this a omen of an earthquake?

14.  Chicago demanded that next year's poll be under Chicago Rules.

15.  San Francisco blamed it on their people being tired that their city was called "Frisco" one too many times.

16.  Someone said, "Houston, we have a problem."

17.  Seattle residents got a venti espresso and studied techniques of rudeness to improve their score.

18.  Providence residents were surprised that someone noticed that they were a city.

19.  San Diego people chilled by going surfing.

20.  Salt Lake City coped poorly at making the list, as they were not supposed to drink coffee or alcohol there.

21.  Detroit was annoyed that they didn't make the list even though they had the Lions and the Tigers.  

22.  Saint Louis sang the blues because it was omitted.  

23,  New Orleans celebrated not making the list with a jazz band parade.

24.  Nashville noted its absence in a country song.

25.  The Mistake by the Lake (Cleveland) thought there was a mistake somewhere. 

Friday, June 19, 2015

Developing a Winning Town Attraction and Slogan

Sometimes it's harder being a public relations writer than others.  Matt Winsocki had an assignment that was a tough one.  Since he was the newest member on the staff on Spin Doctors Universal, he was assigned the task of coming up with an attraction and  slogan for Plainville, Indiana; a place without visual or historical fame, a place that lived up to its name in spades, a place that had nothing to remember.  This is the typical assignment that other P.R. writers avoided; but Matt, being a Millennial, got stuck with it.

Oh well, he thought; time to make a lemonade out of a lemon.  But when he surveyed the town, named because of its flat terrain, he thought that the town was aptly named for another reason.  "Hmmm . . . .", he thought, would "Plainville, The Windy City do?"  But he was disappointed that Chicago already took that slogan as one of its.  "Okay, do they have any events or festivals of note?  Nope, none at all.  Well, double damn!"  

Matt was fast running through all the ideas in his trusty book, Public Relations for Dummies, when he came up with the suggestion to employ some local agriculture or industry as a public relations theme.  Unfortunately, the various farmers in the area had bad luck in agriculture and the remaining ones were left growing ragweed and cannabis.  Those would do, obviously!  Besides, the pot-growers would rather as little publicity as possible.

So it came to manufacturing.  Fortunately, Plainville did have one industry, the Schön Bustenhalter Werks that manufactured bras for export to Europe  That could be a problem, both product-wise and the fact that it had no presence in the American mindset.  A bra festival, maybe; a bustenhalter one, no soap.

But Matt, a graduate with honors from Southwest Kentucky State University, though he was up to the challenge.  Matt buckled down and thought some more.  Why not generate some ideas for festivals to draw people in, like a Renaissance Faire or a Cornhole Toss Festival.  Or maybe honor some local resident who became prominent in the slogan he was trying to develop.

Unfortunately, the only resident of Plainview to achieve prominence was Dudley Slipokoff, who was executed in the State Prison back in 1899.  Matt thought, "Maybe I shouldn't mention this.  There could still be strong feelings about this after only 116 years."

Likewise, the indigenous cuisine, featuring such fare as five bean casserole and hot dish seemed uninspired to generate state-wide, much less national, interest.

So it was back to the bras.  Then Matt Winsocki thought that maybe he could combine the two, the industry and the festival.  This inspiration almost wrote a slogan in itself:

"Plainville:  The Home of the Schön Bustenhalter Werks and the Not Plain Bra Festival"  Now that was an award-winning idea!  But, just to be safe, he proposed incorporating it into a Indiana State Cornhole Toss Festival!  

The final slogan, which was adopted enthusiastically by the Town of Plainville as: "The Home of the Indiana State Cornhole Toss Festival and the Schön Bustenhalter Werks."  That was full of win.  They could exploit a Bavarian theme, with bier und bratwurst and perhaps dirndle-wearing beauties!

The Cornhole Toss Boards