Be Jealous - Cheese Straws and Black Coffee

I'm having cheese straws and black coffee for breakfast...and not doing much else.



http://www.deepsouthdish.com/2008/12/cheese-straws.html

A coworker made 'em. He got his Grandma's recipes when she passed. There's some pecan fudge in there and something that taste like a homemade Rollo...but it's the Cheese Straws.

These are sharp ones with heat you can taste. The coffee's bitter and cuts the tang. Like a piece of candy made with cheese grits and heavy cream. I've had bites of filet that weren't this satisfying.

A frigid Cokecola would be even better...but what can't be improved on is the music.



The fella that wrote the bio can be forgiven for referring to R.L. Burnside as an American musician...the writer doesn't seem to be from the U.S...when he is quite obviously a Southern musician. Show me connecticut's or minnesota's answer to Burnside and I'll eat my words like a cheese straw.

What can't be forgiven is the insistence that he is a Delta Bluesman...or has any special connection to The Delta whatsoever. He didn't...full stop. He was from the Hill Country and he played Hill Country Blues.



Aside from the usual brilliance (check that blossoming ring toward the end...the trance he's inducing is only a set up, preparing your mind for a look behind the curtains, for a whiff of transcendence)...this is a bit of a put on too. Before Robert Palmer and Fat Possum...the few folks that came down to record RL Burnside and some of the others wanted the acoustic guitar. Matthew Johnson was very clear when they got Fat Possum together about presenting these players as they were on Sunday nights in Mississippi...plugged in and lewd.

"The Blues ain't nothin' but dance music," R. L. Burnside.

The ethnologists often have a very specific, preconceived idea about the Blues and the people that play it...a very Delta idea (*&^% Delta). This is the same bunch that had a litter of kittens when Mississippi Fred McDowell picked up and electric guitar and...THE VAPORS!!!...brought on a white bass player. The American Studies Department at Yale had to shut down for a week.



Look at the pictures and the difference between the staged photos and how he presented himself on stage. It's the same issue I have with the concept of "folk art"...the suggestion that these people don't have a sophisticated aesthetic understanding of what they are doing...that it really boils down to dumb expression brought on by material pressures.

And cheese straws are just a poor man's attempt at cheezits.

Kiss My Grits!!!

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.

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.

The Greatest

Last night The Sister had her little Supper Party...which means I spent most of Friday night and Saturday morning with this....



I was tasked with, ripping cds, finding and arranging songs, burning discs and creating an 80's themed cover for the compilation that we discussed a few weeks back.

Finding the songs was a challenge...these compilations are all the same except for one or two tracks (it's great for the artists...if you want Jukebox (Don't Put Another Dime In The) you're gonna have to buy 867-5309 for the fifth time). Rippin the dodgy discs, which hadn't seen the inside of a jewel case since CD's were packaged in long boxes, wasn't as easy as it should have been. The cover was no problem for a high-stepper...but, listening to The Sister try and decipher the legal consequences of signing up for a free trial on Rhapsody was tedious (as was having to explain to her that stealing, even anonymously in the privacy of your own home, is still stealing). D*&^$# if the song she was trying to track down (Hold Me Now - Thompson Twins) didn't turn out to be on one the discs...those comps are impossible to tell apart.

All that was a chore, but the biggest pain in the butt of all...was finding a place in the sequence for Heat of the Moment by Asia...Seriously? Not only is it a dreadful piece of super-rock trash ...there's just no comfortable place for it between Der Kommisar and Shake it Up. In a move of quiet retaliation, I stuck the German version of 99 Red Balloons on the disc.

Yet despite it all...I managed.

So now you are presented with the sound of woman...who has called me an idiot and a demon, called me a moron in icing, who has told me to kiss her grits and threatened my life all on these very pages...eating crow.



Winning!

More Movies More England

"It's called love suuhhn."

Somers Town.

It was supposed to be A Room for Romeo Brass, but evidently Netflix has never heard of it. Then I tried for Once Upon a Time in the Midlands...that one isn't available instantly. So I settled on Somers Town. I was a little hesitant because one the characters is an immigrant. Nothing against immigrants, but that's a pretty constant theme in American movies...and well y'all know where my head is right now. I needn't have worried.


It's a funny and sweet movie...and Thomas Tugoose is just good that's all. There's no irony or bite...just two kids becoming friends and crushing on a French waitress.*

"It's called love suuhhn."

As good as it was forget about that for a minute...and think about The Damned United.



FANTASTIC!

I'm not much of a soccer fan...or football if you must...how 'bout Association Football as a compromise? I don't know...y'all just follwo the context. It'll probably mark me out as a nuckle-dragging philistine and someone who is incapable of understanding the beautiful game but...it's the off-sides rule...well that and the fact that there's none of this...


(the audio is atrocious turn it down...but hits so hard the camera can't keep up with some of them)...unless maybe you're talkin' about Leeds in the early 70's.

I think Rugby's probably more my speed.

Anyway, I do appreciate soccer and what it means to people...particularly English football. And I do love sports...especially sports that have a century's worth of stink on them from carrying the hopes and identities of communities on their back. That I do love...that's authenticity and English Football reeks of it. So while I may not clear the calender for Man U. v Liverpool I'd delightfully gobble up a history on the rivalry if anybody wants to send me one.

When The Damned United came up as a suggestion I didn't hesitate...man what a story, what a character...



The other thing it had going for it is that College Football is dominated by coaches...it's a coaches game. They are heralded and blamed for every success and failure a team has. The firing and hiring of these coaches are usually played out with Shakespearean drama..and intrigue. As with everything in college football, nowhere is this more the case than in the SEC. Coaches leave professional teams to coach in the Southeastern Conference...that's how much it means. They become the program..for better or worse...and by extension the face of a State or a Region and take on all the responsibility that comes with it...and with the appropriately outsized egos. Their names are historical and cultural touchstones...Bear Bryant, General Neyland, Shug Jordan, Vince Dooley, and Steve Spurrier (the Brian Clough of the SEC)...just to name a few.

So the psychology of the story was familiar to me and completely sucked me in. The film handled this man, who had greatness in him but who got a little carried away, with the perfect pitch. I genuinely liked him and was mad at him for making a butthead of himself...I didn't feel like he was a jerk, but that he should know better. Quite a feat considering I'd only just met him 20 minutes earlier.

Maybe I'm biased now, but Bobby Bowden...I mean Don Revie and his dirty football team can kiss my grits.

As an aside...when I do come back to England...I'm going to Yorkshire. Yorkshire in the early 70's...and Deep Purple's gonna blare everywhere I swagger.

*It was an unbridled joy after trying to watch that atrocious Kiduldthood. How many times does this movie have to be made before it's seen for precisely what it is...tawdry titillation.

Texts From My Sister.

As y'all know The Sister is fond of sending me nasty texts.."Shut it," "U R Obnoxious," "Kiss My Grits," etc.

This morning I received the following... "Demon! Be Gone From Me."

As usual I was only trying to help her out...offering solutions to a certain problem she's having...demonstrating, once again, that I only have her best interests at heart.

It really is appalling the way she talks to me...what a shame.

How Rude!

I just recieved the following text from the Sister...

"No. Shut up."

There's anohter one..."Kiss it."

So we have...

"U R Obnoxious"

"Kiss my GRITS."

"No. Shut UP."

and now "Kiss it."

Flimsy Cups would like to invite any sisters that may be reading this to please log on and tell her that this is no way to talk to a respected figure of the family...especially an older brother that is as doting as I am.

Cast of Characters

I think this has gone on long enough without y'all havin' some idea of what these people look like. These characters who work so hard to make my material existence the absurdity that it is...need faces.



Wren - A Southern lady of class and great taste...obviously.
She's also the wife of....



Allan - He is a distinguished professor of philosophy...here setting out to create what he likes to call "the beautiful negation." He's also an expert in claiming that my blog won't let him post.



Adam - A Northern (not a yank** the English kind) husband, father and archeologist...and electric guitar player. Ironically Adam is most well known for his hatred of rocknroll...you can see how passionate he is on this subject in his frequent rants against the Fall.



The Sister - This was the most gussied up picture I could find...musta been right after Church...maybe a wedding. Is anybody suprised to read that I recieved the following text from her lastnight..."Kiss my grits"?

(Disclaimer...to those who don't know. My sister, like the other ladies in this post is also a lovely and gracious Southern Lady...she does not smoke...even cartoon cigarettes, does not have a tatoo, and doesn't shop for herself at Baby Gap. She is good humored about everything except her fabulous looks.
The red hair though...is very real.
I aaam not wri-ting thiiis undeer dureeessss).



The Boy - What a rock star. (He doesn't wear that outfit everyday...his Momma won't let me get away with that...it was football team day at his little school)



Martha - the very lovely, beautiful, and gracious Martha...organizing something.

That's them y'all...that's what I'm dealing with.