Pyramid Power as a Cult or Gang Symbol

Prissville was one of those uptight communities: the burghers there always did the right thing, belonged to the right clubs, belonged to the right churches. Nothing outlandish, mind you. No one handled serpents or baptized people in the river. Still, there was a troublesome undercurrent of change: migrants from the Appalachian South moved into the Midwest, bringing their outlandish habits with them. Still, with the steady hand of the local police, this possible troublesome element still had the potential but was effectively kept in check!

It started by chance one of the local disapprovers of the redneck element (as they were styled) noticed a strange adornment of the dashboards of the migrants' vehicles: for some reason many of them started sporting small colored pyramids! Sure enough, he wondered about this, and let his imagination wander. He asked the banker if he noticed something, and he said that he did. And didn't know why these suddenly appeared. Was it a cult sign? After all, you know mountain people; they often belong to strange cults! Or was it a redneck gang sign, and this was how they identified members' cars so as to not break into them. This speculation multiplied as more cars, especially junkers, showed up with pyramids on the dashboard.

The local police chief was informed, as he was not au courant with the local gossip. He promised to look into it, and noticed the pyramids too! After a few weeks in which the long-residing residents speculated all sorts of possibilities, matters became scary when they noticed a local doctor's Buick had a yellow pyramid also! Did this reliable social figure go over to the dark side?

Finally, the Chief, who knew the Doctor socially, asked him about the yellow pyramid.

The Doctor replied, "Oh I bought it at a car wash in Hillsdale," a nearby city.

"Which car wash?"

"Oh, Mayley's. The do good car washes there."

So the Chief, no slouch at finding out the facts, took a undercover road trip to Hillsdale. He thought he could get some coffee and doughnuts while there.

So we went to Mayley's Car Wash. There, he got a good car wash, as the Doctor recommended he would get. One of the car wash detailers, wearing tight shorts and mini-top, recommended to him that he add on one of the Pyramid Dashboard Air Fresheners to help with the musty smell for when the car is closed up during the Fall. When he took the scented pyramid add-on, she gave him a bodacious kiss!

So the Police Chief returned to Prissville, where he informed the mover and shakers of his findings: these ol' pyramids weren't cult signs or gang symbols, they were merely car air fresheners! 

The movers and shakers were disappointed with his report; and concluded that he did a lousy job of getting the facts. Or, maybe, he was in cahoots with the redneck gangs now!

Actually, they were very comfortable with the idea that those rednecks brought strange, possible dangerous customs to Prissville. When people have a choice between an odd, imaginative belief and a mundane fact, they'll usually go with the odd, imaginative belief. After all, those big damned pyramids in heathen Egypt were unlikely to be humongous air fresheners, even with all those smelly camels around!

An Em(bra)rassment

(Emily was dating her boyfriend for almost a year at the University. Every few weeks, some of her girl friends liked to go out with her, eat, get some drinks, and generally amuse themselves. This usually ends up with the ladies getting so tipsy that she would forget some of what happened that night. The next morning her boyfriend called her to make sure she was okay.)

Emily: [softly] “Hello.”

Boyfriend: “So you survived! How was your night out?”

Emily: “It was great! We went to dinner, had some drinks, but I forgot a lot of what happened. But I wound up in my own bed this morning so all is well.”

Boyfriend: “That sounds nice, but you’re not allowed to go out without me anymore.”

Emily: “Why not?”

Boyfriend: “Would you happen to have all your clothes on this morning?”

Emily: “Huh? Why do you-” [Suddenly she realized that she was missing her bra.]  "Oh God!"

Boyfriend: “Yeah, because I found a bra hanging from my roommate's doorknob when I got up, and I thought that one of you might want it back.”

A Little About Pigs

Pig-Gate. There, I said it!

We may as well accept it: sometimes the tiresome -gate suffix, that blast from the 1970's, disco-era past, may still have some uses nowadays! At least it's possible to allude to the partying habits of the posh class in Merry Olde England without getting too clinical. Still, no matter how the Republican and Democratic candidates for President act like total douches (a plague on both houses!), they don't match this bit from the Brit seamy side of political life! Is it for real' or is it a dirty trick? I won't pretend to know. The British press is so low rent! 

But at least you can say that I brought home the bacon with these piggy cartoons:

What about airborne swine?

I never thought of those kinds of pigs in a blanket!

A G.M.O. to worry about:

Fine dining for pigs:

Even pigs get gross tattoos . . . .

Do they fly business class when they fly?

Don't tell the children:

Some people have an honest difference in opinions; others have honest objections:

I like this surreal image. It has a lot of win to it. Her red backpack provides a nice asymmetry to the picture:

But what can you say about pork barrel legislation? It only happens in someone else's district. Each political party blames it on the other. House members can never get enough. No one got trichinosis from pork barrel legislation. Is it best with a red sauce, with a vinegar-based sauce, or with a dry rub?

North Carolina loves pork barrel legislation. [Click to enlarge.] They keep everybody in need of pork barrels, especially in East Carolina:

Why Black Helicopters?

Rumors about black helicopters have been drifting around in the paranoid sphere for at least forty years now; their function being variously tied to the machinations of the Federal Government, the Trilateral Commission, the Jesuits, some Masonic plot, the Knights Templar, the Priority of Sion, and even the Southeastern Conference, for all I know.

However, really smart conspirators would tend to do their dirty work sub rosa, wouldn't they? Just like spies would. You don't see spies wearing labels like, "Hi, I'm your friendly C.I.A. agent," do you? And, you know, it's off-putting to see grim-looking guys dressed in black even if they don't look as badass at Tommy Lee Jones in the movie!

Therefore, I think that conspiracy buffs should re-think what to look for and worry about. Most black helicopters are just that way because some organization thinks black is a cool color for traveling in. You don't hear about black Acuras as something to worry about, do you?

So, in my opinion, if some nefarious plot is going to require helicopters for transportation, they would choose less sinister colors for their rides. Why not pink helicopters instead? With the aircrew wearing minidresses? And why not have a nationwide chain of front agencies for support?

The problem with most conspiracy theorists is that they assume that conspiracies make their presence obvious. Thinking persons worrying about conspiracies should look in other places.

Like the Hoodie Conspiracy, possibly led by a machinist who looks like the villain in The Hunchback of Notre Dame . . . . 

Boudreaux and the Cat

A wealthy art collector was walking through New Iberia when he noticed a mangy black-and-white cat lapping milk from a saucer in the doorway of a meat market. He did a double take when he noticed what the cat was drinking from.  Knowing the saucer was quite antique and very valuable, he walked casually into the store and offered to buy the black-and-white cat for two dollars.

Boudreaux replied, "You sure you want to buy dat old cat?"

"The collector said, 'Please, I need a hungry cat around my house to catch mice. Look, I'll pay you twenty dollars for it right now." 

Boudreaux smiled and said, "SOLD," and took the man's money.

Now the collector made his play. "Look,' he said, 'for that twenty dollars I wonder if you could throw in that old saucer. He's obviously used to drinking from it anyway. What do you say?"

Boudreaux smiled and replied, "Hell no! That's my lucky saucer! Since that artist convention is in town, I done sold SIX cats."

The Proper Way to Handle Conflicts Between Conscience and the Law

Potentially unpopular laws have made the news lately, both in Kentucky and Alabama. Elvis provided a link to the Alabama one. Here's a take-off on how to solve the Alabama one:

[A Statement by Sheriff Buford Jones, Sheriff of Dorkville. Scene: Dorkville City Courthouse; Date: September 25, 2015]

Sheriff Buford Jones: "Good morning, Dorkville City Council Members, esteemed ladies and gentlemen of Dorkville, members of the press.

"Yesterday the Dorkville City Council passed a burdensome ordinance affecting the ladies of our fine community. Specifically, this ordinance specifics any member of the fair sex from wearing short shorts or miniskirts within the city limits of this municipality. I say this is burdensome, and is against the best interests of all our citizens for the ladies to be forced to wear pants or full-length skirts in the sweltering heat of an Alabama Summer!

"As Charles Dickens once wrote, 'The law is an ass.' And I categorically refuse to ride that ass. I will not enforce this terrible ordinance. It is wrong; and enacting it does not make it right, any more than a rooster is improved by making it wear socks.

"Therefore, as of this moment, can no longer serve as a sworn peace officer. Therefore, I hereby tender my resignation. Here's the copy I leave for the Council, my badge, and my gun. I enjoyed serving as your Sheriff these fourteen years; but will now try out working in the private sector.  I am sending copies of my resignation to the Dorkville Democrat, the Montgomery Advertiser, and the Mobile Press-Register.

"God bless Dorkville, the State of Alabama, and the United States of America."

--------------------------------------------------------

This announcement surprised many people; some pro, some con. One of the out-of-state newspapers expressed surprise  that the Sheriff quoted Charles Dickens, asking whether this is a sign that a Southern lawman actually reads!

Ballad of Thunder Road

The makings of a folk legend come from many sources, generally from dimly-remembered sources. However, this one came relatively late in mountain legends. It was definitely helped by a movie popular in the Deep South some years ago starring Robert Mitchum. There's an interesting story behind this legend. But here's the lyrics to the ballad, originally sung by Robert Mitchum:

 Let me tell the story, I can tell it all;
About the mountain boy who ran illegal alcohol.
His daddy made the whiskey, the son he drove the load;
And when his engine roared they called the highway "Thunder Road".

Sometimes into Asheville, sometimes Memphis town.
The Revenuers chased him but they couldn't run him down.
Each time they thought they had him his engine would explode.
He'd go by like they were standing still on "Thunder Road"
.
And there was thunder, thunder over "Thunder Road",
Thunder was his engine and white lightening was his load.
And there was moonshine, moonshine to quench the devil's thirst.
The law they swore they'd get him but the devil got him first.

It was on the first of April, Nineteen-Fifty-Four
The federal man sent word he'd better make his run no more.
He said "200 agents were covering the state;
Which ever road he tried to take they'd get him sure as fate."

'Son' his daddy told him, 'make this run your last.
The tank is filled with 100 proof; you're all tuned-up and gassed.
Now don't take any chances, if you can't get through.
I'd rather have you back again than all that Mountain Dew.'

And there was thunder, thunder over "Thunder Road",
Thunder was his engine and white lightening was his load.
And there was moonshine, moonshine to quench the devil's thirst.
The law they swore they'ed get him but the devil got him first.

Roaring out of Harlan; revving up his mill.
He shot the Gap at Cumberland and streamed by Maynardville.
With G men on his tail light; road block up ahead,
The mountain boy took roads that even angels fear to tread.

Blazing right through Knoxville, out on Kingston Pike,
Then right outside of Bearden, they made the fatal strike.
He left the road at 90; that's all there is to say,
The devil got the moonshine and the mountain boy that day
.
And there was thunder, thunder over "Thunder Road",
Thunder was his engine and white lightening was his load.
And there was moonshine, moonshine to quench the devil's thirst.
The law they never got him 'cause the devil got him first.

But it comes across really good in the Robert Mitchum song from the movie Thunder Road:

Too bad you can't watch the movie in a drive-in now! It was popular some 50-60 years ago in the Appalachian South: the home turf for the moonshiners and the moonshine runners.