Go State! Go State! Part II

It gets dark in Mississippi. Pitch black dark.

The State's nearly the size of England with a population of less than 3 Million... most being congregated in three spots. Jackson in the middle, Southaven/Olive Branch (this is the Mississippi part of Memphis) in the north and The Coast.

If you got yer map out, and shame on you if you don't, you'll notice that Louisville (sanely Anglosized as Lewisville in this state) and Carthage are not among these population centers...and between those two there is nothing more powerful than a reflector on a mail box to illuminate the night...and those need headlights to work.

There are the headlights...and the black top, yellow and white strips racing at the car out of the dark. With nothing on the periphery but darkness...it's hard to tell whether it's the car or the road that's moving at an 80 mile an hour clip.

Saturday night, just as I turned south on 25, passing Louisville, turning into the dark...the Highway 61 Project at Ole Miss unleashed Junior Kimbrough on the night.





That's Junior at his friend and acolyte Charlie Feathers' house...both from the Holy Springs area, Feathers said music began and ended with Junior Kimbrough. Who'd argue with that in the middle of the night?






Gives me goose bumps every time I hear it...

That's Mississippi.

Blessings

I stopped at one of my favorite accounts today. I'd arranged to meet a sales rep there but he was runnin' late so I just went on in to talk with the owner until he got there.

The owner's a big fella...over six foot tall with a frame like an offensive lineman. Even though his belly's as big around as his shoulders are broad...he's light on his feet. Got hands as big as an elephant's foot and when he grabs your's to shake it there's a flicker of apprehension...does this fella know his own strength?

No need to worry. He does and he's in no hurry to use it. In fact, even though there's an air of enthusiasm to every move he makes, he don't get in a hurry about nothin'. Always smilin'...a smile that's big even for his head. Teeth the size of dominoes. His eyes are clear blue and and active.

"Hey mayne...whatchya got fow me today?"

He reached for my hand.

"Getchya some tey mayne...get somma this tey I'm sellin now."

Who turns down a glass of iced tea?

"Wadya got dere cokecola....at's dark mayne. 'At must be unsweet. 'At unsweet's stout. So, wha kinda goodies you got fow me?"

We sat down at a card table in the middle of the store and went through my bag. He set a few items aside, and without turning from me threw a thumb over his shoulder and said..."I'll have ta let my mayne here have a look at 'eese."

I looked behind him to see a little wiry fella comin on toward us....in a deliberate manner. He was already bending at the waist so he wouldn't have to when he got to the table. He quickly scanned the items and, with the manners of a short order cook, he snatched one up..."This 'ere...how much is is 'ere?"

I told him we'd have to wait on the rep for prices. They have some latitude in that area and the last thing I want to do is get in the way of a rep's nickel.

"Well wha 'bou' dis? How much," he stopped hisself, "the rep...I reckon we just talked abou'dat." he shook his head and smiled at me. It was a genuine smile but thin. He's a dark fella...dark hair and eyes that seemed stuck in a forward position. He's a good fella though...even if he did stare at everything.

A chorus of "Heys"..."'ere's the big man."

The rep settled in to take their order from the little fella with the stare. I nursed my tea and laughed at the owner as he greeted the ladies that came through his door. He'd lift the Alabama cap off his sandy curls..."hey there sugah...how you been?" A peroxide in movie star glasses had just pulled the door open and he was reaching for his cap again when we heard his man ask the rep about condensed milk.

The little fella had a crooked smile on his face and the owner chuckled.

"He don need no damned condensed milk. He's got three cases of it back there."

Obviously there was a story here but me and the rep didn't get a chance to ask before the owner, with a smile that didn't seem exactly Christian, says..."you need to take that milk over that church. They's makin holiday candy."

"Ain't gonna happen."

"What...the Lord'll bless you for it. You don won the Lord to bless you."

"Them people got inta me for some money." the expression on his face seemed intense but really it was hard to tell.

The expression on the owners face was pure mischief. This was obviously a well oiled wind up.

"Who's into you for money? The people or the Lord?"

The philosophical nature of the question threw the little fella and he stammered.

Still grinnin' like he'd eaten the last Twinkie, he asked again, "Don't You want the Lord to bless you?"

The little fella's head started bobblin'. He didn't know whether to nod it or shake it. He stared down at the table like that for a second then looked up, hit the table with his fists and said, "I'll just go BUY some candy and hand it out myself."

Hahaha problem solved.

That was my day.

Musical Interlude

Let's take a break....

This video has been posted before but it's never been given it's due. It's Rock Lobster, it's canned probably...who cares. If you aren't ready to rip your seat apart by the time he's naming off sea creatures...well? We still love you but.....



The feeling that you may be having a hard time putting your finger on is...FUN.



Eyes in the socket so I'm gonna SOCK IT....nobody ever did, or has done, a better job of herding Noise, or at the very least its aesthetic, into the mainstream of Rock n Roll (as a sound) history...even if not too many people heard it, even if they abandoned the effort (though not entirely...see the end of Elevate Me Later for maybe the most seemlessly integrated and beautiful moment of racket you'll ever hear in traditional song structure). If you don't like it...you can BOP BOP BOP BOP DOP BAH on the back space and get **** out. But do please come back eventually :).



And to keep things topical....all you really need to know about The South in 2:43 seconds.

USA! USA! USA!

Reckon there's one for the Carolina's and Mississippi too? Surely there are similar souvenirs from their Great Plains Tour.

Gotta be more memorabilia...copies of Love Letters taken out of Southern homes and printed in northern newspapers for amusement, wood from Southern homes in mini charcoal bags, blood stained undergarments?

Contact America Apparel if you're interested.

Lighters in the air.


USA! USA! USA!

Adam Between the Hedges

We are getting tantalizingly close to the opening day of the season...the first of twelve precious games. In the meantime we've got some business to sort out. Originally I had thought about lettin' y'all choose your own teams but, why fight against every tyrannical fiber in my being when I can just assign teams by fiat?

So, Adam you get Georgia...the Georgia (White English) Bulldogs.*


A little GunsnRoses to ease you into it. At the 2:50 mark...Sweeeet Caroline!

Their Southern credentials are untouchable. They got the money...they got the fans...they got the facilities...it's the Empire State of The South baybay! They've got Tradition... the hedges, Larry Munson...The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party and they're one half of The Deep South's Oldest Rivalry.

As a clincher, only at Ole Miss will you find more fashionable fans (ironically the worst dressed reader...I mean beyond bad...already has Ole Miss. He's got a graduate degree from the place...Dr. Allan). You can finally break those red chinos out of the closet Adam.

Only drawback is they have rarely lived up to their potential. Given the allocation of resources Georgia not Alabama** should be the Bell Cow of the SEC but for various and whatever reasons it has not been the case. The fact that they've only beaten the Gators, who they used to own with heartbreaking regularity, three times in the last 20 years has not helped.

Their oldest rival may be Auburn and they've got a heated one with Georgia Tech in Atlanta but, it's this game with the Gators that matters the most...matters more than anything else. Pitting me against you...we've been there before :).

Should you accept this dictate..you have to begin all posts concerning the SEC by stating that "Gators Wear Jean Shorts." It's a reference to the atrocious wardrobe of most Gator fans.***

http://www.gatortailgating.com/content/the-real-story-behind-gators-wear-jean-shorts

*This is all very tongue and cheek...obviously you don't have to participate but, why fight it when it's so much fun and there will be so many opportunities to talk trash...why would you pass that up? Plus there's going to be a lot of it here in the coming months..and I just want to give y'all a reason to still log on (that won't be all there is but, it'll show). And there will be give aways...for the person with the first and last team in each division and something special for the "fan" of the team that wins the conference. Probably an autographed screen shot of me flexing my muscles for the blog.

** Speaking of Alabama...do we have a reader from Yorkshire?

*** It's a universal taunt in the SEC now...I'll never forget walking to the car after a loss to Auburn, being harassed by a fella jumping up and down on the roof of his truck waving a pair of cutoffs around. This isn't the funniest taunt though...LSU Fans Smell Like Corndogs...takes that prize.

Hottie Totties and Cold Couscous

In 31 days we'll push the screen door open and step out onto the front porch. Our former lives, which at that point will seem dull and dingy by comparison, will be transformed into a techinicolor world of singing, dancing, adventure and intrigue...High Drama.

It's a world that runs on bourbon, and the vapors of smoking hogs. Ladies it's time to go shopping for a new sun dress. Fellas you may need to get a new tie and if you're in Baton Rouge...you probably need to do both.

Half of y'all know exactly what I'm talking about...and the other half, by now, can probably guess....



For those of you who can only guess (Brits, minus Adam, and the odd...very odd yankee cough:mazesandgarylurker:cough), you are being invited...no you're being required...to participate in what is probably the greatest spectacle in all of sport* - The Southestern Conference football season. The S-E-C.

Over the next month were gonna talk about the game...try and deal with certain elements that are troubling to our overseas friends like pads, the stops and starts, the clock, etc. Talk about the history of college football and The SEC in particular. Give an overview of each team and what will be required of you once you've decided which team you'll be backing. That's right you gotta pick a team to follow so I can berate you every week when the Gators destroy them.

There's only one rule. For those of you who reflexively love the underdog...first one that picks Vanderbilt has 'em all to their self.

Go Gators, Roll Tide, War Eagle, Go State! Go State!, Call the Hawgs...it's time.

*I was in Germany when England and Germany played in the European Cup to penalty kicks...only thing that I've personally witnessed that compares. It makes sense...because these games are at least nominally played between states. The animosity and passion that attends these games is more like that between European and British Isle national teams than professional American sports. The NFL has it's passionate fans but the teams are not as wrapped up with identity as these College teams are.

The NFL Tennessee Titans play in a stadium that holds just under 69,000. The University of Tennessee Volunteers play in a stadium that holds over 100,000.

I know there's that world cup thing every four years...I know but, since our "overseas" readers are really English readers...well you know...

EDIT: Let me save Mazes the trouble...



Vid belongs to ESPN/ABC

Nashville Must Be Destroyed: Exhibit A

This thing has been burning up the country charts and FM radio like Thriller.

The rapping is just hokey...the singing is as hamfisted as the production. It's plastic...and where's the beat?

Still...that melody is strong. What's happened here? Nashville that's what.

Here's what it sounds like in the hands of the boys that wrote it...



We have to digress here for a second. The sound of the peach pit in Brantley Gilbert's mouth when he sings "Mud Tywews" is itself sweet music to my ears. We all have issues with Rs to a certain extent down here. The letter doesn't exist, is not acknowledged in Louisiana...but, Georgia, or Geowgia, has it's own particular problem with the letter. The relationship between rs and ws in the mouth of a Georgia Cracker is blush worthy and I love it.

How does the first version shoot up the charts while the original and obviously superior version remain completely unknown in certain circles...Nashville that's how.

If anybody's put off by the concept here...don't be. This is a place where you'll here T.I. blasting out of pickup trucks and see black men in Cowboy boots and hats. Darius Rucker is a 100% Southern product. And it's been pointed out more than once that what is referred to as Thug Culture is really just Red Neck Culture inherited from white Southerners...who inherited it from the North of England. That there's a whole lot more to Southern Culture than violence motivated by honor is a subject for later. When Jimmy Rodgers left this state to share what we would come to know as Country Music with the world...people who heard him thought he was black. He come out of the same fish-fry culture as the blues players. Leadbelly played Cowboy songs too. Ludicrous has rapped on this one at some shows with Jason Aldien.

I say all that to say the idea of Country-Rap is not really that odd...that's all.

When Will They Learn?

Never.



This is being touted as an elitist member of the Liberal media getting her foot stuck in her mouth while being snarky to a Conservative ...and it is that to an extent. When's the last time you heard a news reader stop an interview to ask the academic credentials of a Liberal before moving on to their next point?

What this really is though...is a familiar scene, an example of a condescending new england yankee having her assumptions neatly folded up by a Southerner and politely shoved back up her bigoted a**!

Contessa's from new england, holds all the right views and is a member of the progressive establishment...Mo's just a back slappin, good ole boy politician from Alabama for ***'s sake.

Stoopid yankee cow...that's Highest Honors at Duke.

Do Not Feed the Alligators.

A little late for that. This joker sees a person he hears a dinner bell and makes a bee line. That's the problem with feedin' 'em.

When I was a kid we spent a lot of weekends at St. Marks Wildlife Refuge in Florida.



We would use these tiny little brine shrimp as bait for fishing. Scoop 'em up with hand nets from the pool where that picture was taken. It didn't take long for the gators to appear. You'd dip your net in the water and a head would pop up as you pulled it out...Some bigger and more disturbing than others.

I wonder how much of this The Sister remembers. I know she remembers the time that a bull gator growled at us. I bet she remembers me riding all the way back to Tallahassee with a three inch splinter in my big toe picked up during our frantic run across a wooden bridge to get as far away from that sound as possible.

What? Yeah. We were barefoot...of course we were.

Anyway, like I said I never could catch any fish at that place...so, I crabbed. Tie a chicken neck to the end of a string, throw in the water, give it a minute, pull it out...crabs. The problem is gators like chicken necks too. It doesn't take 'em long to associate people with food...humans cause hunger pangs. That's when an otherwise disinterested creature becomes an eater of dogs and small children...so don't feed the gators! Last time we were there, crabbing had been banned.

Don't worry about feeding the snakes...



They seem to be managing.

Satan's hand-puppet there is no bigger round than your index finger. He's devouring a frog...at an excruciating pace. The frog was starting to balloon. We looked for something long enough to catch and fling the snake over to the gator...to snuff out that little devil and put the poor frog out of his misery but we couldn't. Beastly.

Nature's a &*^&^%%%(**&^^! You won't find any more passionate conservationists than you will in The South...hunting and fishing are so deeply engrained in the culture...but, you won't find a lot of support for abstract, misty eyed concerns about the "environment."

When your towns aren't being erased by hurricanes...you're dodging tornadoes, gators, and snakes. The Sister knows two little boys that have been bitten by Cotton Mouths, one in the backyard, the other in his own garage, this year...terrible. Sometimes around here it seems like a fight...and not a fair one (ask the folks in Tuscaloosa).

Don't wanna be overly dramatic about it...we aren't struggling to survive...at least not most of the time :).



Most of the time it's just a beautiful place.

Naw I Don't Need No Drugs

Hanna Ave, Indianola, MS

In the universal sign for "let me hold a dollar" a lanky black man lunges up to the car making a circular motion with his right hand. I roll the window down...

"You got a couple of dollars I can hold?"

I reached in my front pocket and pulled out a folded dollar bill that had been in there days.

"That's all I got...You gettin' my last dollar brother."

"You got 35 more cents?"

I laughed and dug it out for him.

"Man you ain't got another dolla?"

"I told you that was my last dollar...I need to get movin' brother. The poleese see my white face stopped on the street like this and they're gonna think one thing."

"You need some drugs man?"

"Naw I don't need no Drugs. I can't be monkeyin' around up here I gotta get back to Jackson."

"You goin' to Jackson? Today?...Oh hold on a second. Wait right here.."

Then he started off toward a house...

"Brother I gotta go. I'm workin'."

"A'ight...A'ight."

What on Earth he wanted me to transport down to Jackson we'll never know but, in my experience it could have been anything from nickle bag of dope to his Grandmama.



I was down there yesterday morning because the night before I couldn't get any pictures...there must have been 10 cops down there and at least that many people lined up on the sidewalk.

I've seen Blues Travel sites nonchalantly explain how easy it is to fly into Memphis, rent a car and drive down into The Delta...Clarkesdale, Leland, Indianolo are "just a two and a half hour drive." I'd like to hear how that's worked out for some of these folks in sandals, baggy short-pants, and Robert Johnson T-Shirts. I imagine being berated with shouts of "you ain't on Beale St. now" isn't the worst of it.



Church St.

Every town in The South, of any size, has a Church St. In Jackson it's Farish St...Memphis has Beale St. The old Black business district. Not just Jukes but, grocery stores, taylors, cobblers, ice cream shops, they had everything. What Church St. had that none of the others did was B.B. King.



I love B.B. King...who doesn't. It's not my favorite brand of Blues (though he's certainly my favorite Urban players and his voice...geeeeze.) but, it's the first I heard and knew. As a little kid I appropriated my Daddy's cassette of 16 Greatest Hits and carried it around in an old tape recorder...even to bed at night.



Anyway that's Idianola. So is this...



Before I let you go. We need to slip back to Leland. I mentioned that there were a few players from around there...and indeed there are and indeed they deserve mentioning.

Son Thomas...not only a Blues player but a renowned artist. They call him a "folk" artist but that's always seemed condescending to me.



You gonna tell me this fella was just ignorantly making sculptures without any sophisticated understanding of what he was doing...bah.

What about Johnny Winters?



Man...Kiss My Grits..that is good.

Booger Loves Sissy

I want our resident expert on the anthropology of emotions to explain this expression of Love as anything but Mystery and Truth.

Satartia, Mississippi is a collection of houses around a cotton gin in the Delta. There's a couple of churches and a Grocery...


(These are the places that The Shed with it's Christmas lights and license plates is trying to emulate. You can buy some staples and honeybuns, bait, and cokecolas in these places but, they're more like social halls. They serve meals and coffee...local musicians will play outside or in if there's a dance floor...pool tables, etc. .)

The place is owned by a woman that seemed perfectly sane but run by two young women who are crazy as outhouse rats (they insisted that they were Booger and Sissy)...I barely got out of that place without a mark.

It was one of the funnest calls I've been on in a long time.

Before you get to Satartia, comin' from Jackson, you gotta pass by Bentonia...



Home of the Blue Front Cafe and Skip James...



I wish I'd gotten a picture of the two convicts being hauled up to the top of a flag pole to change light bulbs...in the bucket of an excavator.

I spent the rest of the day gettin' further into The Delta...


(Allan II)

Holly Bluff, Delta Grocery...where the owner has a cast iron cross from a Confederate grave that must be almost 150 years old. It was surrounded by rattlers that had been taken off snakes he'd killed.

A Grocery in Mayerville with a shag Budweiser rug nailed to wall over the dance floor.

Glen Allen on Lake Washington...where things are slow goin'.



My last stop was in Leland. It's home to it's share of Blues players but, it's also the birthplace of...



Time to start day two...Greenwood, Ita Bena, Morehead, Indianola, etc.

The Title has been fixed...as ISBW keenly observed "who calls themselves bogger?" :)

At first I thought it was a typo...but I did it twice.

Blue Father's Day

This mornin' The Boy brought me a present wrapped in the funny papers.



The book was put together by Roger Stolle owner of Cat Head Records in Clarkesdale. Cat Head and Fat Possum records have done a great job helping to ensure that Blues..real vibrant hard-country Blues...has it's own space to operate in.

Hava little taste of Como Mississippi...and Mr. R.L. Boyce.




The Boy doesn't yet know how lucky he was to have been born where he is...but he will. I'll make sure of that...just like my Daddy is the reason somebody would automatically think to give me a gift like this...it's all cause of his Blues and Soul records (or tapes).

He was here last week and and actually took a better picture of The Blue Front Cafe than one on the cover. His has patrons.

I hope The Boy feels lucky to have me as a Daddy one day...the same way I feel about his Grandaddy.

We'll leave it with Duwayne Burnside singin' his Late Great Daddy's song...

Patriotism and Golf

I'm busy today at work...watching a live stream of the U.S. Open.

In the spirit of our bantering Fridays, I just hollered across the hall to ask my co-worker who was gonna win...

"Hopefully an American."

Sigh..."Yeah it's not lookin' too good for that right now."

"I know..Europeans are kickin' our butts."

Whoa...wait a minute now..."OUR" butts?

First of all, though I genuinely like my co-worker...he's a good fella...he and me are not a we. He's got family down here, been here for a while but unlike some who come down here to live, leaving behind their bad habits*, he's still got some that are decidedly northernish (and some that are just bizarre and hilarious).

Don't get me wrong. He's a buddy of mine but, I had good friends in Germany. Don't make me German. Flimsy Cups has more British readers than North Americans...don't make us British. When I finally get that lime-green with orange racing stripe, hard top MGB GT from my old neighbor...I won't be English. I will, thank God, still be the same Cracker I've always been.

Affinity does not equate to oneness.

UPDATE: He's now watching it too...and doing a mocking English accent whenever a non-American comes up on the screen...Lord have mercy. Is it dinner yet?

Secondly, is there really a place for patriotism in golf? I have no emotional or intellectual problem with patriotism...the gaudier the better. I just don't really feel it for the U.S. Should Dixie ever regain it's independence...I'll make you cross-eyed with Battle Flags around here. And if a Good'un like Bubba Watson get's close on Sunday I'll be all over it. Still, it's golf. It's the Form of individuality disguised as a sport. Aside from Bubba and Boo, I'm rootin' for Phil...and he's from California. I'd love for Rory to get the taste of Augusta out of his mouth or, for Luke Donald to live up to his ranking.

If Mazes ever finally qualifies...I'll be his biggest fan. Begging to be on the bag...and we all know where he's from. :)

That's why I can't stand the Davis Cup (should be Ryder Cup...that's how much I care) thing that's played between Europe and the US every year. There's just something smelly (almost reddish) about turning golf into a team sport. I'm supposed to root against one of my favorite golfers of all time like Nick Faldo just because he's playing against some fella from New Jersey? Kiss my grits!

Team sports are different...team sports and patriotism go hand and hand. A lot of our friends in "the rest of the country" are irritated and confused by, generally speaking,** our fanaticism for the SEC as a whole...not just our own teams. The SEC is a Southern Institution and it's one of the few outlets for Southern Patriotism.

If you want to USA USA during an international basketball tournament...I get that but, please leave it out of my Golf.


*Somewhat ironically...they are usually referred to as Damn Yankees. Yankees that come down and never go back...ironic because these are usually the ones that make themselves at home and blend right in.

**The Sister actually rooted for michigan state against Alabama this year...her hatred of the Crimson Tide has obviously caused some mental damage.

Regional Digression

Real quick...just want to share the miserable and excruciating longing I felt last night watching a CBS Sports Network replay of Arkansas/LSU at the sister's.



It won't matter to a lot of you but, many of our readers will spend the rest of the day grinding their teeth and weeping inside because it's only June.

Enjoy

P.S. If you stopped by hoping for some Southwest Conference talk....here you go.

Baton Rouge, L'uisiana

I had the gator.

The money was in Baton Rouge this week.



Our first exit in the Pelican State.

Britney Spears was born just up the road from Exit 61 in McComb, Mississippi but she was raised in Kentwood, Louisiana.

Aside from the Pumpkin Center/Baptist exit there's not much else along the interstate 'til you get to Baton Rouge and it's Live Oaks...



If left alone, the limbs'll get so long that they bow down and start to grow along the sandy ground. There are whole neighborhoods and roads canopied under these things draped with Spanish Moss...it's one of the most beautiful sites in The South.

Of course the most beautiful site in The South is one of these....



Tiger Stadium, Death Vally, where it never rains and where in 1988 the fans caused an earthquake to register at the geology center after a game winning touchdown against Auburn.

Baton Rouge is home to Louisiana State University...LSU, The Tigers, Bayou Bengals, founding member of the SEC. They're named after Wheat's Tigers. Recruited mostly from the waterfront in New Orleans they were a L'ousiana unit of zouaves in the Confederate army...so rowdy that they had to be dispersed after Wheat was killed. It's a legacy the LSU fans carry on with ridiculous enthusiasm.

Me and Martha went down for a game against Mississippi State a few years ago. The first thing we saw as we pulled onto campus was an actual gator hanging from the limb of a live oak. The president of the school regularly has to write letters of apology to visiting teams and their fans. While most schools in the SEC are known their sharp dressed fans (ties and cocktail dresses)...at LSU you'll find purple and gold pimps and Elvis impersonators.

First of all they're mostly Cajuns...it's just how they are. Secondly, it takes an act of congress or millions in tv loot to get 'em to play a game during the day. Saturday night in Death Valley is a brutal place to try and get a win...mainly because its 92,000 seats are mostly filled with Coonasses that have been drinking bourbon since before the sun came up.



Edit: I had to add this one...so perfectly over the top.


It's an unqualified blast.

The Money really was in Baton Rouge this week...or more specifically in Gonzalez. I love my job...that's all...and I found out just how satisfying it can be this week. I ride with sales reps. I bring new products and we talk to their customers about bringing them on. I spend a day or two with the reps and get to know them, their goals, about their families...and I get to help them make money. Wednesday, just a couple of hours after meeting a reps wife and daughters, he got a call from a customer we'd talked to that morning...they were going to buy.

He was so excited...jumpin' around, high fives..and then he thought about the money...got his calculator out, ran the numbers...2 grand in annual salary. That's what our morning turned out to be worth for him and his family.

Like I said I love my job.

Oxford, Mississippi

I was on the road again last week...



Oxford, Mississippi



One of the prettiest towns you'll ever come across.



It's not a trick...They named it after Oxford, England as part of a successful effort to have the University of Mississippi located in the town.





Ole Miss was founded there in 1848. Bones (not the actor :) ) from Star Trek is an alum, John Grisham, Charlie's Angle Kate Jackson...the school's produced three Miss America's...



and of course William Faulkner was a student there.



The school also produced The University Greys*, Company A of the 11th Mississippi Infantry...only 4 students showed up for class in 1861 after secession.



The other 135, along with much of the faculty, enlisted. They suffered 100% casualties during the war...that's everybody either killed or wounded. Got farther than anybody during Pickets Charge...and paid dearly for it. Gen Barksdale was killed on the second day of the battle leading his men from the front. One dumbfounded yankee was overheard saying "we don't have officers like that." Damn right they didn't...they were past-masters in burning and raping things...and slaughtering Indians though.

Ole Miss is a fine academic institution but, more importantly it's the home of The Ole Miss Rebels**...founding members of the SEC. It's been about 60 years since they were dominant force on the field....but, off the field, in The Grove, they're still champs.


"Don't win many football games but, they've never lost a party." ***

Lots of music around Oxford. It's the home of Fat Possum Records...R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough territory. The Silver Jews and Modest Mouse have recorded records there...Johnny Marr used to have a house there.

Books...Books and more Books...



Square Books is annually rated as one of the best privately owned bookstores in the country (along with Lemuria in Jackson...we are book lovers)...it's even too big for one store...



It's just a pretty place.

Grenada (that's Gre-nay-duh in Mississippi) is not really that pretty of a place but, I like it all the same. Had business in Kosciusko...so I stayed there Wed. night.

I ate my supper here...



Looks great...sorriest BBQ I ever had south of the Ohio River...pulled pork straight from a bucket. I've had better pork in a school cafeteria...place should be shutdown by the cops.

Should've eaten here...



or maybe here...



Anywhere but High on the Hog.

Anyway fortunately I made it home in time to see this...



Next week...Baton Rouge.


*That's GrEys...we spelled words correctly down here until after the war. Evidently a part of being reconstructed was learning a peculiar New England way of spelling English words.

**Let's not go there for now.

*** Sorry Jenny Q, Sister...I'll make it up to you after my next trip to Starkville.

Spring Time

Supposedly we don't have seasons in The South...or so we're told.

Translated...what that means is we don't have much of a Fall...we don't get much of those muddy brown and orange clammy leaves all over our driveway in October.

Anyway...around the beginning of March those stinky Bradford Pears and Japanese Magnolias will bloom...won't be long before the Dogwoods, man do I love Dogwoods, burst...then Wisteria...and finally the Azaleas.

That's our neighbors yard up there...what I stare at with my morning coffee...beautiful that's all.

Coffee. Black. Hold the Politics

I haven't spent a dime with Holiday Inn for at least 15 years..since whenever it was they decided to no longer fly the Mississippi state flag on their Mississippi properties.



The state voted on it...and by a staggering majority(75%+) we, the state with the largest proportion of black folks in the country, voted to keep it.

Get over yourself...you're a low rent road-side motel with stupid television commercials.

You could call it race politics I guess, but it's not really about race. It's really about the insistent, sad and cloying U.S. need to be loved. They can't fathom that a group of people who, though they really don't deserve it, have the glorious privilege of being citizens of the United States of Uh-meeerica would still harbor separatist sentiments...that's all it is...FULL STOP.

Needy b****es.

Well I don't need to be loved (I'm well taken care of at the house thank you just the same)...

I NEED A CUP OF COFFEE!!!!

I've been in L'usiana all week workin'...with a co-worker who's trying to break the Guiness Book Record for loyalty points with Holiday Inn. So, here I am in one of their rooms...for now that is...until I need another cup of coffee. Then I'll be across the street (not a small feet when you're on Causeway in Metarie) at the curbstore standing in line behind 25 construction workers...all waiting to pay a buck fifty for a hot cup of bilge water marked Gourmet.


These morons have decided to remove the coffee pot from the lobby.

A motel without a coffee pot in the lobby!

Seriously...there's no coffee pot in the lobby.

Where's you Dinner Mommy?

Before we get back to work...I just scored a victory around here. They don't happen very often so I thought I'd mark the occasion with a post for prosperity.

It's around noon and the boy is eatin his applesauce and fish sticks. Martha's sittin' with him when he looks up at her and asks...

"Where's you dinner Moma?"

She's been tryin' to feed him something called lunch at midday and then dinner at like 5:00 in the evenin'.

Southerners, like my boy, like me and like his Grandaddy, eat their dinner at midday and eat supper in the evenin'.

Lunch? Beats me...sounds more like a respiratory condition than something you'd want to eat.