…Every single car and truck has a GOD Bless America bumpersticker, and I mean every. single. one.
…Kilian’s Irish Red is whatcha call “That Fancy Imported Beer.” Real beer is the kind with its name printed on the side of NASCARs.
…You drive one block and count 25 “Pray for our Schools” campaign signs.
…You can’t buy alcohol on Sunday, and yet everybody seems to have plenty – usually in a cooler, in the front seat, right next to the driver.
…The number of churches and the number of bars are in equal balance – and the number of seats in both exceeds the local population by a factor of ten.
…It is so Goddamned hot that if I owned this place and hell, I’d rent out this place out and live in hell.
…There is nothing that can’t be breaded and fried. Nothing. Including a 3-speed manual transmission from a 1974 Ford F50, which you just happen to have two of sitting next to the front door, by the fridge.
…The high school parking lot is cracked and full of weeds, at least two windows are covered in plywood, and the paint is peeling, much of the hurricane damage from Ivan three years ago is still not fixed. The Baptist church next door, on the other hand, is a brand new shining multi-million dollar steel and glass temple of air conditioned splendor. Maybe the school needs a few more Pray for Our Schools signs out front.
…Willie Nelson is considered one of the greatest actors who has ever lived, he’s a pretty good singer or something too.
… and you see things like this:
See the part that’s circled? Yeah, see, that’s the phone line, attached to what was the top of the old telephone pole, the one destroyed in the last hurricane about three years ago. Apparently that couple of feet was OK. So you know, ya’ll’d be crazy to throw that out, even though it’s not actually supporting anything and is in fact only about four feet off the ground. Besides the two poles on either side are mostly OK. Mostly. Probably.
Odd how the phone service is intermittent though, the phone company can’t seem to figure it out…
I have to admit I've seen something akin to that telephone pole before, however, the sawed off bit is actually attached to the new pole at the top.ReplyDelete
As noted by Chez Pazienza of Deus Ex Malcontent, "Florida: The place where sanity goes to die."
Get home safe...
We have a couple where they just erected the new pole next to the old and lashed them together not bothering to transfer any of the lines.ReplyDelete
Hey... you're not knocking the brilliant singer-songwriter who penned classics like "Crazy" are you? Them's might be fightin' words....ReplyDelete
Them's might be fightin' words....ReplyDelete
Oh yeah, like I don't hear that at least twice an hour down here.
The part of Florida where Jim is has nothing to do with the (Miami) part Chez was talking about. Jim's in the part that makes Deliverance look like fun.
Welcome to the REAL South... and remember, the Florida Panhandle the considered the Redneck Riviera!ReplyDelete
"…The number of churches and the number of bars are in equal balance – and the number of seats in both exceeds the local population by a factor of ten."
IN the immortal words of Mr. Jimmy Buffett..."there's a thin line between Saturday Night and Sunday Morning..."
Heh. How I don't miss the South.ReplyDelete
Yeah, I have some fond memories of living in Pensacola as a ten year old and visiting my paternal grandparents in Milton and my paternal aunt in Huntsville, but I never want to live in the South again. I'm just not suited to its vibe.
There ain't no vibe, Carol. It's more like the thin toothless buzzing noise made by a kazoo, a banjo, and a red-boned hound.
If you hear banjos, run...ReplyDelete
Jim, that description resonates. And makes me nervous.ReplyDelete
Nathan, I will now never visit Florida again.ReplyDelete
Folks round here don't consider Florida the real South, they have too many damn yankees living there.ReplyDelete
Bless yalls heart,Flordia is not the south. The "real south" is under the Mason Dixon line yall want south come to la.ReplyDelete