My Life In South Carolina

This morning on my way to church I passed by the same homeless people I see every Sunday. They seem to congregate on a concrete slab that was once a cotton mill or something, it’s kind of like a homeless collective of the minds you could say.

Today was a little different though, I noticed that a couple of them had their dogs with them. I found this strange, I didn’t know the homeless were allowed to have animals, you know, other than lice. Anyway, as I was watching this group solve the worlds problems from the traffic light one of the vagrants that seemed to have a case of vomit beard and for some reason holding on to a baby stroller(?) began kicking at his dog because the dog was looking for attention. Ol’ chunky beard connected several times. This pissed me off… WTF?

Hey homeless guy, if you’re reading this from your WiFi enabled box. Why did you kick the only real friend you have. Don’t you know today is Sunday? It’s a day of rest, not dog kicking.

I mean he was on a leash for God’s sake. That wasn’t exactly fair was it? Another thing, why is your dog on a leash anyway? Are you scared he might find a better gig than what he has and leave your smelly, unshaven ass? I can’t blame him I know I’d be out at the first opportunity.

I can’t help but think you’re bringing him down to your level, you should be ashamed. I mean he could be curled up by a fireplace out of the cold this morning, but instead he’s with you. He’s just waiting to go to the interstate off ramp to beg for money like you do every day, yeah, we know whats really behind that “Will work food” sign. (You’ve been at the same off-ramp for two months! Is business that good?) You know what he’ll be glad to go with you because he’s your best friend, why not treat him like one…loser!

How about letting the Night Train hangover wear off before you start reacting to a dog that’s looking for attention next time.

For the woman at church I watched french kiss the water fountain this morning, I have problems with you also. That’s for another time though.

So, I had Thanksgiving lunch with some of my in-laws just like every year. It was the usual turkey, dressing, and conversation about who had spent the most money since last thanksgiving and why. Yes, its a regular brag-a-thon with that set of in-laws.

I’m expected to go through it twice a year, Thanksgiving and Christmas usually. This years topics were how much money one set spent remodeling, and the other set bragged about how they bought their two sons vehicles, and one of them isn’t old enough to drive, but he’s a good kid so they thought it was only fair. WTF?

Who in the hell buys a kid a new car who can’t drive it for two years? I don’t care if he’s a good kid or not. What if he goes and runs amuck? You know, like teenagers do sometimes.

This got me to thinking about my first car. It was a $500 1976 Chevy Nova with bald tires and a bald spare to match, but what really set it off was the dent in the rear quarter panel. I was glad to have it! Hell, when I got my license I’d drove a tractor if I’d had to, you know? I didn’t care I was mobile and it was a car. It only lasted about six months. I guess the old girl had seen her better days, one day it said to hell with it and just quit.

My second car was a1980 Volkswagon rabbit. (no dents and decent tires) It actually burnt up in the parking lot of my high school one morning just as I arrived. Seeing an opportunity, I used this incident to my advantage for missing school that day. My nerves were shot, I had a near death experience for Pete’s sake. I caught hell about that from my friends for months after. I’m not sure but It may have been the faulty radio installation I hurried through the weekend before, so I could have some tunes as quickly as possible. I never admitted that until now and will revert to my original story if my Dad reads this.

The last car purchased for me by my father was a baby blue 1980 Chevrolet Chevette and I was pimping! I bought a new Sparkomatic radio/cassette player and speakers. This time though I installed them in what we like to refer to as the “correct way.” I cranked the Ozzy and was mobile again. Now that I think about it, I don’t think anything could be more redneck than a teenager blasting Ozzy from a Chevette. I could be wrong though.

You see, I was humbled by my vehicles growing up, and I didn’t own my first “new” vehicle until 2003. I mean, I had cars in between the Chevette and my new truck. Just so you know, I didn’t drive the ‘80 Chevette until 2003, it wasn’t that good of a car.

I looking forward to the Christmas lunch this year, and what the blowhards will have to say. I guess I’ll find out then that the remodeling set bought a helicopter or a house midget.

I could’ve swore I heard my nine year old son singing “All Out Of Love” by Air Supply while walking through the house last night.

I find that more than mildly disturbing. Where in the holy hell did he even hear that song?

I let it go, I didn’t want him to think it was wrong, you know how kids are he would’ve ask for the Air Supply box set or something for Christmas if I did, and knowing his Nana, she’d break down and buy it for him not knowing that listening to Air Supply will make a guy extremely gay. Nana’s just don’t know things like that.

Speaking of Christmas he wants a Xbox 360 this year, and I can’t talk him out of it. I want a Playstation 3 Dammit! Why can’t he understand that?

I’m not all excited about the coming holiday season. All the running around and commotion it causes makes my sphincter pucker.

Today at work we had a customer from Israel visit us. I think he may have had some issues with paperwork from our export department, but who knows? He was here all of two hours and was out the door to catch a plane back to Israel. WTF? Could he have not just phoned us? I don’t understand it, I really don’t.

The reason I’m telling you this is because in this small town, I’m sure ninety-nine percent of people have never seen a Jewish person wearing a yamika, and as soon as he left the phones in all offices lit up with questions about his “little round hat.” Most started with “what the hell was he wearing on his head?” Was it a dollie? Why was it there? Who can explain it?

I just find it funny that people here have no idea or care about life outside of this small town. That’s just the way we are down here.

I’ll stop today with this. If you haven’t been there yet, make sure you visit People of Wal-Mart. The greatest pictures ever taken of  Wal-Martians can be found there. Here’s the link to my all time favorite.