Archive for the ‘Nashville’ Category

White Trash Bastard

September 25, 2006

Apparently, it is the time of year to put bulk items out by the street for pick up.  They probably sent out flyers or something.  I figured it out when all of my neighbors had big piles of junk, which are usually for sale at their bi-weekly yard sales, out by the mailbox.

If I had paid more attention, I might have been able to figure out more junk to drag to the end of the driveway.  All I could come up with on the spot was the Bastard gas grill.  This grill, which has earned the name Bastard for good reason, has been an albatross since I bought it. 

The Bastard has never fired up properly.  It always involved a lot of jiggering around with the valve in order to get the gas flowing properly.  Sometimes it would fire right up.  Mostly, it required the jiggering.  The worst times were when I would be stumbling drunk with a lit Marlboro hanging from my lower lip trying to get the Bastard lit.  Even my tough guy pals would go running into the house like a little girl who has just seen a spider when that would happen. 

Last time I tried to fire it up, it made a sound like it was pumping gas everywhere except the grill.  Come to find out when I went looking for a replacement valve, the manufacturer had issued a recall for the grills.  Turns out the regulator valve was made out of toothpicks and dog slobber.  With that info, and the realization that a faulty gas grill with after market replacement parts might void my thus far impeccable record of not getting blowed up yet, helped me realize that the Bastard was destined for the junk heap.

So, I hauled it out to the street.  Within an hour it was gone.  All of my neighbors still had mounds of junk in their yards.  Turns out that bottom-feeding hillbillies troll the neighborhoods when the bulk waste is put out.  I’ve seen three different ones skulking around looking for junk like it is the loading dock of the Salvation Army store on a Sunday night.  That’s another hick magnet.  Every Sunday night, random jackasses clean out their homes of useless stuff and dump it in the rear parking lot of the Salvation Army store on Charlotte.  All the while, people who are reminiscent of Jawas rummage through all the junk looking for that shitty exercise bike and pee stained rug that will really tie the room together.  It is like a secret after dark swap meet.  Especially when the people who dump their stuff leave with someone else’s trash.

So, one of these goobers thinks he’s got him a new gas grill.   Watch your local news this week for some poor dope that blows himself up in West Nashville from a bad gas grill.  That would be the Bastard.

And as always with the stuff I put at the end of the driveway, ALL SALES ARE FINAL. 

 

Hmm Hmm Him

August 21, 2006

I finally picked up Night Train To Nashville last week.  It is chock full of R&B gems that deserve wider acclaim.

The kids love the Little Richard commercial for Royal  Crown Hair Dressing ad.  Probably because of the GEICO ad that they repeat incessantly.  MASHED POTATOES, GRAAAVY AND CRANBERRY SAUCE WOOOOOOOOOO!

My personal favorite on this rich and evocative (yeah, I said it) collection is Arthur Anderson’s Anna (Go To Him).  Al Bundy fans will remember why. 

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Mine’s Bigger

May 15, 2006

I grew up in Atlanta.  The indoctrination policy of that town is to brainwash all of the citizenry into not only assuming that Atlanta is the Capital City of the South, but also as the center of the known universe.  Ironically, most folks who love repeating that little mantra are the same folks who fled the city for the suburbs when the blacks assumed political control, but have also fled the suburbs for the sticks once the Asians and Latinos started to populate their little slice of heaven.

The City Too Busy (fleeing from the non-whites) to Hate has trumpeted this civic booster brainwashing for as long as I can remember.  I drank heartily from that pitcher of Kool-Aid.  I strongly defended the idea of Atlanta as the center of all virtue, culture, power and glory, until I moved out of fucking Atlanta.  Then, it hit me.  That town ain’t all it is cracked up to be.  There is a specific type of provincialism that comes from the big urban centers.  The Manhattanites have it.  The Angelenos have it. And the Atlantans have it.  Their little speck on the map is the center of the universe and all other towns, no matter who they may be, are full of rubes, hicks and suckers who haven’t realized the greatness of the Megalopolis.

This attitude is in full force in the Business section of the Sunday’s Atlanta Journal-Constitution.  We’ll set aside the normal rant against the AJC for someone better equipped to make it.  Suffice it to say, it sucks, just not as much as the Tennessean.  So that’s something else they can get jealous about.  In your face Atlanta!  Our daily paper is worse than yours!

This is the article from Sunday that gives us the typical Atlanta view of Nashville.   Here are the high points:

 Nashville, the honky-tonk hamlet known more for Stetsons than skyscrapers, is getting downright uppity.

Stetsons aren’t made here.  In fact they are rarely worn here except by tourists, working musicians and visiting rodeo riders.  I guess bibles, healthcare, guitars and Goo-Goo Clusters weren’t as alliterative.

 A Music City developer is threatening to erect the tallest building in the South, an honor Nashville hasn’t held since 1957. The 65-story tower, planned for 2009, stands to knock Atlanta down a peg, both in its skyline bragging rights and, perhaps, in its stature as the undisputed capital of Dixie.

If your civic pride is wrapped up in how BIG your buildings are, I guess you could look at this as a threat.  Like the short, bald guy who buys a Porsche or a Corvette in order to compensate for a "short-coming", Atlanta feels threatened that someone else might have the temerity to have something bigger.

Signature Tower, the dream of Tennessee developer Tony Giarratana, is a $275 million would-be high-rise of 400 condos and 100 hotel rooms.   What else would it be Walter?  That’s like calling you a "so-called journalist". 

How long, O Lord, are we to be the Jan to Atlanta’s Marcia Brady?   Is the new tower a way for us to change our hair because Lucy Winters got our name wrong on an invitation?

Probably not.  The new tower is a manifestation of a growing and vibrant economy.  This is the kind of project that cities who are expanding and optimistic towards the future build.   Atlanta needs to focus not on what others are building, but what they are going to do when Delta finally torques into the ground, Ford and GM close their moribund plants, and Georgia-Pacific and BellSouth vacate millions of square feet of downtown office space after recent corporate mergers.

Tell you what Atlanta, keep your shitty traffic, racial tensions so thick you could make gravy, fair-weather blase sports fans, political corruption without end or equal, and the love for the smell of your own farts.

We will remain backwards country folk with a big ol’ buildin’. 

Lonely Avenue

January 31, 2006

The Arcade on Saturday Morning.  Right before I took this, a crackhead with huge clumps of dried spittle in the corners of his mouth, who is just out of frame, started screaming for me not to take his picture.   Last time someone took his picture "They tried to frame me for murder!"

arcade.jpg