The Tygrrrr Express is Bama bound.
Given my love of Tigers (with the exception of the Detroit Tigers and Tiger Woods, who I am neutral towards), I visit campuses that feel the same. I have been to Princeton, NJ, and the Clemson campus in South Carolina. The only thing left is to visit more of them at Auburn in Alabama.
For those who have seen the movie, “My Cousin Vinny,” where New Yorkers face culture shock in the deep south, I can say that this is not what happens to me. Sorry to disappoint those that have never been to a red state, but they are fairly normal people. As for the deep south, the one stereotype that is true is that the food is fantastic. Southern hospitality and food is as true as it is fantastic.
I say this because as the Presidential race kicks into high gear, I confess to being a tad jealous of the candidates. I could care less about their wealth, and while the power is nice, it is not the end all be all. What I am jealous of is that they get to meet millions of Americans and hear their stories. If I could shake the hand of every American and hear their story, I would try to do it.
For those who remember Charles Kuralt, he would take his camper around America into small towns, and just meet Americans. I refuse to call them average or ordinary, because they are just plain great. With Mr. Kuralt gone, the closest thing would be to meet John Madden. Lord knows I would eat well.
For those who have never been to the deep south, it is true freedom. For one, it is freedom from traffic. People drive fast in the left lane, and slower cars actually move out of the way so the faster cars can get on with their lives. This does not happen in big cities in California. When Yahoo Maps tells me something will take 2 1/2 hours, in the south it takes me 90 minutes.
The people are friendly. True, when I say I am a New Yorker, or that I live in Los Angeles, they initially think that I think that I am better than they are. Truth is, there is plenty of arrogance on the coasts to justify this suspicion. Then when I let them know that I grew up on Long Island, my dad played the banjo, and that I like red meat, football, and support the NRA, I make friends easily. I don’t watch NASCAR, but when I tell them I haven’t been able to watch since Dale Earnhardt died, they understand, and hope one day I will watch Junior. The reason my comments are not patronizing is because the comments are sincere. I really am like this.
Oh, and they are very tolerant down south. I am Jewish. The bible belt is Christian, which in most cases means they like Jews. No, they do not try to convert me. They understand I do not believe in Jesus, but they are appreciative that I overwhelmingly respect that they do. I wish more Jews, and liberals in general, could meet these fine people.
Some people say the south is the same south that was racist. If that were true, why are so many black Americans moving down there? Atlanta is still booming, and Charlotte is the biggest banking center outside of Wall Street. Prejudice can exist everywhere, including on the enlightened coasts where middle America is looked down upon.
I arrive in Atlanta Friday night, where a buddy of mine (Yes, he has a pickup truck, and I like it!) and I will be driving to Birmingham. Sunday night it is back to Hotlanta, where just outside the city people bought 4 or 5 bedroom houses for $200,000 only a couple years ago. The quality of life is peaceful. Monday night I am off to Washington, DC, where on Tuesday I will have the pleasure of meeting Giuliani, McCain, Romney, Thompson, and Brownback. Yes, that will be blogged about, and no, I can’t wait.
Then it is back home to Los Angeles on Tuesday night. I love this city, but getting out replenishes me. My blogging might be spotty over the next few days, but that is because I will be living life.
People ask what I do when I have writers block. So far I have been lucky. My life is a traveling carnival of adventure, and the adventures abound again very soon.
I will be meeting people, shaking hands, and if I work up the nerve, asking for votes.
As you know, I am competing in the bloggers choice awards, and am # 4 in the country. I am one spot behind left wing hate site Daily Kos, and I have several days left to defeat the Kossacks.
http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/21020
I am not a natural politician. Yet the one thing that is natural about me is my liking of people. I hate having to ask for things. I am not a salesman. Yet when I have no agenda, to dive into a crowd and shake hands, and make friends, I am very at ease.
The key is to know the environment. To go to the deep south and ask where a guy can get a vegan dinner and a juice bar special is possible, but I am grateful that is not me.
People want to know that you know anything about anything they are familiar with. I remember talking to a lady in the Kentucky Attorney General’s office who was not happy about something. First of all, the words “attorney general” and “unhappy” should never be in the same sentence. The woman on the phone was pleasant, but she said, “The problem I have with you guys on the coasts is that you don’t know anything about Kentucky. You’ve never been here, met us, or even looked us up on a map.”
I had to correct her. “Mam, with all due respect, I grew up on Long Island, there was a farm around the corner, the general store was within walking distance, and one of my favorite songs is ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky.'” For the sake of ethics, I saw an episode of “King of the Hill,” where Boomhauer (sung by Vince Gill) sings the song, and it has been in my head for a decade. Nevertheless, the lady was incredulous, and she asked me to sing a few bars. I explained to her that I was at work, and I did not want to be carted away. It is important to note that one should also never mention the words “carted away” when talking to someone in an attorney general’s office.
So I sang to her, as my boss looked on wondering if I was on crack. “Blue Moon of Kentucky, Keep on Shining…Shine on the one whose gone and proved untrue. Blue Moon of Kentucky Keep on Shining…Shine on the one whose gone and left you blue.”
The woman said, “Young man, you are delightful. This matter is closed.” Now if we were guilty, a song would not have gotten us off the hook, but innocent people can get in trouble when they come across as unlikable. If I have trouble in Bama I know the song, “Hail…hail…the gang’s all here…at the Alabama Jubilee.” I just hope the officers are old enough to know country music legend Jerry Reed.
Some people think I like red states in the deep south because they vote republican. That is only partially the reason. It is that they believe in things that just do not resonate with many ivory tower liberals, particularly those in academia. For one thing, it was not New England liberals at Iwo Jima. It was “bubbas” fighting for their country, and proud to do so. Bubbas don’t think they are better than anybody else. They just don’t want to be treated like they are worse.
As for the women in the deep south, the moment they open their mouths, I want to just give them my credit cards. Scarlett O’Hara type women turn my brain to mush. Hot, sexy, republican women…heck, even the Jewish ones, while democrats, are not leftists.
While the south is as modern as anywhere else, try finding a general store on a corner on either coast. A song my dad played for me as a kid talks about how life used to be. It just moves so fast, so think about how great it would be if it would just slow down once in awhile. The south moves, but not at the breakneck pace of the coasts. In the south, you can sit back and smell the flowers, and they smell great. As for the song…
“There’s an old wooden sign…just outside of Stratton, Maine…it says…’if we ain’t got it…you don’t need it…Bill Jones’ General Store’
Oh I can hear the creaking, of that rusty old screen door…smell the penny candy…at Bill Jones General Store…the pipe smoke and tobacco…wet boots on the floor…Campbell’s Soup and shotgun shelves, at Bill Jones General Store.”
The song is actually sad. It talks about how the town gets deserted, because times change, and in real life, the store gets replaced with a conglomerate. Yet what does not change is the dignity of the people in the town.
We grow or we die, and progress is not always so. Yet it is possible to be modern without giving up old fashioned values, such as God, country, and yes, mom and apple pie. That is not “hokey.” It is traditional.
I love LA, it is my home, but there are too many liberals here, taking days off of work to protest the right to protest and not work. I look forward to five days away from them, so that I can come back and remind myself that normal people do exist.
Plus, if we can just get the car cranked up to 90, my friend and I can emulate my heroes of 30 years ago. Yes, 1977, the year that Burt Reynolds and Jerry Reed brought America the Bandit and the Snowman in “Smokey and the Bandit.” Interstate 20 is a straight shot from Bama to Hotlanta. It is a sweet drive during the day, and a rapid dream at night. Now all I need is the black Trans Am.
“Put your foot hard on the peddle…son never mind them breaks…let it all hang out, cause we got a run to make…the boys are thirsty in Atlanta, and there’s beer in Texarkana…we’ll bring it back, no matter what it takes…Eastbound and down, loaded up and trucking’…we’re gonna do what they say can’t be done…we got a long way to go, and a short time to get there…eastbound, for another Bandit run.”
I will leave you all with the theme from the third Smokey movie, a song by Lee Greenwood that is so rare that even he can’t seem to find a copy of it (I asked his people). Lee Greenwood does sing, “God Bless the USA,” but he also sings my theme song, “The Bandit Express.”
“Look out the Bandit’s coming, get your money and warn the women…tell them smokeys all to take a rest…because they’ll never catch the Bandit Express.”
Yes folks, that is how my blog came into existence. There can only be one bandit, and Burt Reynolds took care of that. I am a Raider, a pirate, and many other characters.
Yet at heart, I am a Tiger. To be more accurate, a Tygrrrr.
I am Bama Bound. So hide your kitchen utensils, snap on tools, and Jewish republican brunettes with hot southern accents. Break out your best plastic silverware and lock the liberals on the coasts so I can get some needed relaxation in the south, aka relaxation nation.
“Tell your daughters they better get some rest…cause they’ll never catch the Tygrrrr Express.”
eric