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.

King of the Road

Work was a little squirrely yesterday...I went from Slidell, La to Vancleave, Ms, Ocean Springs (I had an important call to make there)...



Gulfport...then back to Slidell, La to work with my favorite knucklehead in South Louisiana (he really is a knucklehead and he really is my favorite)..then back to Gulfport followed by a return trip to my room in Slidell.

Lot's of radio time though...I heard Ring My Bell by Anita Ward yesterday. Did you?

The Highlights...





And the greatest song that ever came over the FM...



I couldn't help but wonder, as I was beating on the steering wheel and breaking out in goosebumps...if Elvis had to deal with haters when he was becoming the King of Rock n Roll the way I'm having to as I become the King of Painting.

Who knows?

Alright, back on the road today and home to Martha and The Boy tonight.

Holla!

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.

Y'all Go On Get The Haterade Out...

It's another Masterpiece.



I call this one...Allan.

ishouldhavegotsometogo

It's funny how the internet works. A woman in Brighton, England..the author of an outstanding blog*...made my supper plans for me on Monday night.**

That afternoon, I was on my way down to the Coast...



I stopped in Magee to have a cup of coffee and kill some time on the blogger. When I got into my account I saw that she had a new post...another installment on her recent trip to California. During this particular leg she had finally gotten to eat something she had only heard about...pulled pork.

Normally when I'm down there I get a pizza from Newk's or a cheeseburger from Five Guys and take it back to the room...watch Law and Order reruns...like clockwork. Not that night. Once the notion of pulled pork had been put into my head the only way I was gonna get it out was to eat some.

Lucky for me I'd be in D'iberville about 10 miles from Vancleave and this place



The Shed.



A ramshackle collection of buildings right off of Exit 57 on I-10 at the gate of a campgrounds...where they smoke hog and the wallpaper's green.



The decor has almost reached the point of parody...almost. It's not a gag but, it's not really a country grocery either. Somebody's playin' a g'itar there most nights but, it's not the next Asie Payton. The place has been on T.V and they have a handful of locations now.

If the food wasn't good it would be a joke but, the food is good...



The pork's got just enough of texture for you to put your teeth on it right before it melts into smokey butter. And that flippin potato salad is lights OUT...like Corkey's without the bacon.

I've had better I reckon...Ubons comes to mind and Full Moon in Hoover, Alabama is my favorite (sadly the Tuscaloosa location was erased during last months Godzilla attack) but it definitely rates.



It's like I'm afraid somebody's gonna try and take it.

Thanks ISBW...the meal was delicious.***

*The Blog is ishouldbeworking...and you should be reading it. I don't know how to do links but it's in my reading list. It's fantastic.

**I should also point out that Adam in Lancaster has..if you add it all up...has cost me about a weeks worth of work hours with his internet obstanence.

***I realize it's a little wacky to unpack things like this...I have analytical issues. Just be glad you aren't in my mind, along for the ride as I'm reading these nonsensical had written signs at restaurants all day....more on this later.

Rejection!

Martha hates my artwork.

This weekend she was telling me we needed something to balance out the cabinet that sits on the left side of the couch along a big wall in our living room.

I offered to do a painting...for free.

"It'd really have to be a big one honey."

"It's no problem Sugar...I'll just get a big canvas."

"Well...I really don't get your artwork."

Uh huh...don't get it? I've told her 5,000 times there's nothing to get.

"What...just look at it?"

Yeah...you just look at it. There's nothing to get.

So she knows that's a cop-out and a thinly veiled way of saying..."I hate that **** and it is not going on my living room wall."



Really?

No Smoking at the Old Absinthe House

New Orleans.

I had a call in Chalmette yesterday and after it was over I went down into the The Quarter.



Just as stanky as ever. Bourbon St. runs through the middle of the quarter like an open sewer line. It produces this violently acrid cloud of stale beer, urine and vomit that grudgingly dissipates the closer you get to the river.



Of course, state law prohibits you smoking in The Old Absinthe House so you needn't worry about your health down there. Get blind drunk and pass out on the steps of one of those dank strip clubs ridiculously billed as a Cabaret...your plans of living forever will not be affected.



That's Bourbon St. though and despite it there are some lovely places in The Quarter.



You can even get books down there.



Crescent City Books.

Of all the bookstores around...Square Books, Lemuria, Choctaw (Allan's favorite...they use a peculiar shelving system there that really puts his mind at ease and allows him to linger so he can find the title he's huntin) are all great and all have their specialties. Crescent City caters to mine. That's the British History shelves (complete with the mandatory separate section for Winston Churchill). Africa, India and the rest are well represented too. I've got a book in my bag from there now...The Rise and Fall of the Asante Empire. On my shelves at home, among others, are a copy of The Pro-Boers, a review copy of The Seed is Mine, and a collection of Boer primary documents translated into English (you try to find it). I love that place.

I'll tell you what else I love.... muffalettas!



There's no better place to get 'em than Central Grocery.



You just can't beat the place...that's all.



I had a half...washed it down with a frigid root beer.

Then it was time to go.



I've got a few calls in Picayune, Mississippi...which means one thing.



Paul's Pastry.

I'm a little worn out with the road and can't wait to get home to the boy and Martha...but, I reckon there are worse places to be away from home.