Should Be Eurfreaka
Trip Start Nov 10, 2009
46Trip End Dec 18, 2009
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I walk through town looking for a place to eat (I'm skipping around in time)
I hit the CW and hunker down at the bar. An old man who looks like he's from the sea is there talking to an equally old and salty woman. She is telling tales of a man that the had several fits and starts at a relationship with but, somehow it never quite worked. She wasn't there a few times, he wasn't there another few and you can see the sadness in her eyes. He would genuinely like to help her but, he doesn't know what to say so he puts his arm around her like a Chaplain might as if to say It's going to be OK. They have a few drinks he, has a lot of drinks and is getting that Boris Yeltsin look about her. Normally, I'm getting upset about now because the bartender barely recognizes me and the crowd is sparse. I don't particularly care because the story was really good and a very attractive 20 something gal in all black with a jacket that has some sideways zippers enters the bar
I housed the pork special and feeling dizzy decide to go. It's was the hot head not the gal.
I find my way back to the hotel and start thinking about the next day. I need an oil change in a bad way. I need to figure out where I'm heading next and I need some freaking sleep.
Now back about 5 days ago, I learned a number of important things about the culture of the western middle west. These things I learned from the radio and may be repeating them so bear with me or next entry for you.
The radio stations out here are painfully palid and sadly predictable. Here's what I have heard on the FM dial (the dial doesn't even exist really so you can tell how old I am)
2. Van Halen (DLR years)
4. Judas Priest
5. Motley Crue
6. Def Leppard (I just added this one in)
I think there is a law that says if you aren't playing country western music where the main themes are I work too hard, I party too much, I cheated on my man, woman, I asked for forgiveness, I am saved by the baby Jesus, I am flawed, I will get in a fight with you at a saloon for no apparent reason, I'm proud of being a redneck, I view redneckism as not actually intolerance, I don't shave, I'm getting older, I'm sad and lonely, I did you wrong and I like ranch sorts of things. Then you must and I repeat MUST be playing one of the five above listed groups. You won't be hearing any Joy Division or New Order out here.
Needless to say the FM dial has not been blaring too much.
The other thing is that the radio is filled with all manner of conservative talk show hosts. Back east it seems like there is Rush and a few lesser players in the market-space out here there are tons of conservative talk show hosts and they all want to argue with you way more than Dave Peel could ever hope to in 3 lifetimes but, then again they get paid for this so it goes.
The next day (Thursday) I get up early
I go to the veritable Denny's and get some breakfast. Then I walk across the street to the local mechanic and get the oil done. He is regaling me the perils of small business ownership and how it's like he works for the state. California really soaks their residents and business owners on taxes. It is harsh out here from gas to sales to income. The bastards in Sacramento don't know how to run this glorious place.
He tells me that they have robbed the small business owner so much over the years that he needs to find ways to take money off the books so he can keep his 20 employees that have all worked for him for over 20 years in the black. He feels robbed of free enterprise and is embarrassed to have true business incentives taken from him by the politicians and their taxes. His incentive is his employees. That's where it begins and ends and by the looks of his pants and sweaters he's not living high on the proverbial hog.
While this car oil and lube thing is going on (I later learn that to take the CC off my car would constitute a $25,000 fine for him and that my oil pan is leaking which means eventual head gasket problems and those are 3 words no one wants to hear.)
I go to the gym next door
I'm listening to a displaced bleach plant worker. He has been out of work for a while and took up with a family friend doing something but, he couldn't keep him on so he works part time at the gym and is excited about several employment possibilities coming down his pike. Parole Officer, Prison Guard or back to the bleach plant. He's talking about pay between $11 and $15 per hour but, is concerned about stability more than dough.
There is a woman in there in her 30's thin as a bone working out with all the meat-heads. She is grunting harder than they are and looks like she could be a bassist in Black Flag or Henry Rollins' long lost sister.
I've got 15 minutes to check out so I bid you adieu.
Laake, I need to learn how to play black jack at the Casino's in MS or TN so get your teaching hat ready. It's either that or we're knocking off some liquor stores. You can be the driver. I'll be the one looking crazy and saying "Give me what's in the register now hurry up!"
Not really, It's the sponginess talking.