You Are What You Eat

Being a country boy born and raised in central Kentucky I never gave much thought about what I ate until I was thrust into middle age . Now it seems that every means of mass communication screams at what you're eating isWRONG WRONG WRONG. I get so tired of hearing about this diet or that new study showing how bad pickle bologna is for you to consume. What ever happened to the basic food groups we were supposed to follow for good health when we of my generation studied them in school?For years I thought that "Twinkies,Ho Hos, and Dingdongs" were basic necessities for a healthy lifestyle.Now we have armies of little old skinny-assed people telling us they are not good for your body. They want you not to drink Milk unless it has a blue tint and a percentage of something in on the label. There was nothing closer to heaven than going to Mrs. Young's grocery store and having her serve you a baloney sandwich on Butternut White bread. I did say White Bread to all you health fanatics. She would slice it with a big old butcher knife and wrap it in waxed paper. You could add mustard or mayonaisse, anything else would take away from the baloney. It was only after I married that I realized that eating white bread was anathema to some people.My mother-in-law would tell guests at her dinner table that"Steve is a good bread-eater." Only after years of observation did I realize that being a "good breadeater" was not a compliment.If my inlaws ate bread at all it was whole wheat or rye. Yuck! In all fairness they were cityfolk and I was country. They called pie filling pudding. Go figure! I fell in love with Andi Mcdowell in the movie "Michael" with John Travolta. Why? She sang that song about Pie and sang it in her North Carolina Accent. I don't know of any country boy who wouldn't feel the same way, you know like we all felt about Dolly Partin when she and her attributes first appeared on the Porter Waggoner show. While I'm confessing I have to admit that I miss Vienna Sausage and Potted meat at lunch. And what would I give for a little can of VanCamps beanie-wiennies?Do you think Spell Check is going to handle Wiennies like I spelled it? People would have you to believe that vienna sausage is lethal right out of the can. People even take the skin off of fried chicken. Elvis deepfried all of his food , and if it's good enough for the King then I guess it'll be ok for me. Somehow I feel all of this food business is aCommunist plot. Does noone remember Nikita Khruschev pounding his shoe in rage and threatening to bury us in Communism? Well I do,as I was laid up in bed eating fruit cocktail to purge my body of the chickenpox the day I watched him in marvelous snowy, black and white television. I thought even then with my fifth grade mind that old Nikita needs to eat a little chocolate pie fillin and ease up on the world. Little did I know then that 45 years later we would have this legion of Bony-assed do gooders telling us what to eat. Maybe old Nikita won after all. I think I'll defer to another American Icon who said it best with,"I like mine with lettuce and tomatoes ....Heinz 57 with French fried potatoes." If it's good enough for Jimmy then I'm ok.

New Business Opportunity

I often drive long distances to visit with clients or to meet on jobsites where our firm has installations in some degree of completion. Perhaps my favorite places to work are the coalfields of Eastern Kentucky. I love Hazard,Harlan, Whitesburg , and Hyden.The people in this region are without a doubt the most honest , hardworking ,and friendly that you will ever meet.A handshake is all that is necessary to seal a$100,000 contract. They give you their word and you'd better reciprocate.I've always been fascinated that there are still pockets of people hidden away in little churches up deep hollers that believe in showing one's faith by handling serpents. I mean honest timber and diamond back rattlesnakes and copperheads. A Biblical passage tells them that they can take up serpents and drink poisonous liquids without harm. Their faith will carry them through it.Every year practitioners of the art are bitten and a few die. The thing that most have in common is their reluctance to seek medical help. You can see people on the streets of Eastern Kentucky , West Virginia ,and Tennessee who are missing fingers which is what happens to a venemous bite without medical attention(if the victim survives).To this direction I had a brainstorm one day as I was driving through Pike County. I could corner the market on the serpent commodities and sell reptiles to the churches! Further thoughts produced a delivery van much like the dog truck in Dumb and Dumber, but with a snake motif. I would call the business"Send A Serpent", and deliver 7 days a week. The trucks would say"Radio Dispatched" and would have masculine drivers like the Crocodile Hunter who would wear khaki shorts and work boots and say things like,"Would you just sign here. Boy, these Diamondbacks are little beauties!Crikey, watch ' em Mate they're fast". They could be packed in round tubes and opened only when necessary. A major selling point is that they could have snakes year round, as native reptiles hibernate during the cold winter months. I'd keep an inventory on hand year round so they wouldn't have to look under rocks for the ill-natured creatures. If they wanted something really special I might even branch out and try to find some exotic species like a 10 foot spitting cobra. Now wouldn't that be interesting aloose in a packed congregation ! Crikey! This is played with Steve Earl's COPPERHEAD ROAD blaring in the background.You wouldn't expect Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring would you? Leave a message if you are interested in Franchise details.

Gun slingers

In 1777 the community of Logan's Fort( now Stanford) was beseiged by a large mob of howling Indians and British sympathizers. The seige lasted nearly a month, and is today considered a battle of the American Revolution. Two men were killed,and one of the bodies was recently excavated by an archaeological excavation.Today, over 200 years later there are no doubt many more guns in Kentucky than in pioneer days. Thanks to Rep. Robert Damron(ironically a Lincoln County native ) we are allowed to obtain a concealed carry permit and pack weapons of deadly force to your hearts content. Liberals decried the bill and said it would herald in a blood-bath on the streets of Kentucky. Needless to say this hasn't happened. My theory is that everyone who got their permit were already packing concealed, and this only made them legal. I myself have been a proud holder of my permit since day one, and I haven't even thought about looking for my gun. My brother on the other hand carries a small handgun everywhere he goes. Since we work together and travel often together I am under his shield of shelter.I'm somewhat worried about his choice of weapons as a derringer doesn't comfort me much. My weapon of choice is a Ruger Super Blackhawk 44 magnum, the same caliber that Dirty Harry said would "blow your head clean off". The only problem is that this pistol is as big as a violin and doesn't conceal very well. I guess there could be some initial benefits gained by just jambing the barrel down the front of your trousers, but that could be dangerous as well as false advertising. Sometimes I carry a small snubnose 38 in my coat pocket, as well as my cell phone. Since most of our work involves banks and banking interiors we are often behind the tellers counters as much as the tellers. I live in fear that my phone rings, and I reach in my pocket and pull up a Chrome plated six shooter to my ear. If that doesn't bring the police nothing will.One evening my wife andI and our in-laws went to a little restaurant in the little community of New Salem.Being a rustic little place, the floors were concrete, and as we were leaving my father -in-law knocked over a tall wooden chair, which fell against the hard floor with a resounding crack much like a 22 pistol shot. Immediately most of the fine patrons in the restaurant went for the pieces they were packing. Men went to shoulderholsters,ankle holsters, or their pockets. Women went for their purses . A few even ran out the back door.Me, I just held up my hands and said"Sorry!"Calmer heads prevailed and the crises was over . Adam (father-in-law) never realized the imminent danger and we went home, secure that the world was as it should be.

Miracle in Corbin

On one of my frequent trips through Eastern Kentucky I happened to stay on US 25 and cruised through downtown Corbin.Over the years Corbin has had more than its share of firsts and brushes with fame. You can motor right by the first Kentucky Fried Chicken Restaurant where Colonel Harlan Sanders gave birth to his secret herbs and spices that made Kentucky fried chicken a global power. It was only after Gov. John Y. Brown acquired it that it grew like a cholesterol flood across all national borders and covered the globe with its brown gravy- slimed mashed potatoes. Yes, you can step into the most sacred of sacred restaurant shrines where Mr. Sanders morphed into the Colonel.I think that perhaps the spread of KFC into the Soviet Union and the Eastern Bloc nations singlehandedly caused the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the USSR. Maybe that's why Premier Putin is such a small man in stature. There's a dissertation in there someplace. As I progressed through Corbin I turned off from mainstreet and came upon a bizarre sight. There, parked along side a small business was this big old steamboat Lincoln Continental. It was the old style body, you know the kind that was all square with chrome everywhere, and the big humongus Mack Truck grill. The car had been one of those Designer editions with a half-vinyl top and those port hole opera lights in the roof. All in all , like Colonel Sanders it was what made America seem overdone to the rest the world. What really set the car apart was that it looked to have lost in a demolition derby. One whole side was caved in and chrome was dragging on the ground. What small area that wasn't dented was filthy dirty.It was a testimony that the thing had come to town on its own power. The truly wonderous part of this picture was a license plate on the front that proclaimed"GOD COPILOT'.Can you visualize the mentality that would brag about that? Maybe if he or she had let God have more of a role their car wouldn't have been such a mess.What sort of Cro-magnon believes God is subordinate to them as they tool their designer series Lincoln through the streets that once saw the dreams of the Colonel come to life?"My pappy said, 'son you're going to drive me to drinkin' if you don't stop drivin' that hot rod Lincoln' "

Out of its element

On the coldest day of this winter we decided to drive up Hwy 27 to Lexington to finish up Christmas shopping(that's Holiday Shopping for you left-wingers) at one of the shopping centers. The weather was, and still is, horrible with temperatures in the teens and blowing snow. The roads were mainly clear due to the efforts of highway workers applying salt and scraping. There were several cars off the road , and a couple were actually turned upside down outside of Lancaster. This is not the Weather Channel and I'm not Paul Goodloe, but I'm setting the stage for this narrative . As we pulled in to Best Buy it became obvious,and completely expected that all close parking spaces within two acres were taken . Those about to be vacated had motorists hovering like vultures , waiting for the coveted parking space. As I didn't care to walk we parked way up next to Nicholasville Road and started to the store. I immediately saw a nearly new Corvette wedged between two SUVs. The driver no doubt was joyful at finding the close parking to the front door ,and had driven the black convertible between the behemoths. I didn't see her, but this was without a doubt a woman driver because NO male Corvette owner would willingly drive his car between two parked vehicles. Corvette owners are usually slim because they only park miles away from other cars, and they will not take them out on rainy or snowy days. This beautiful car was covered in road grime and nasty salt.The black cloth top was equally filthy. It had to be a girlfriend out on a lark with a middle- aged crazy guy's car. I hope he doesn't see the shape it's in.There's a lot of women in the world but a limited number of black,kick-ass Corvettes.Whoever the guy is that let the chick sneak out with his Vette on a snowy day you are a dumbass. If you find out ,do the honorable thing and take her keys away!I'll bet she's got that Clay Aiken Christmas cd in the player. Double shame on your ass!

The death of ODB

I was listening to the news and they were telling of the death of Old Dirty Bastard and I had to suddenly pinch myself to see if I, or one of my close associates had died.Sure enough it was a rapper that I have shared a common name with for several years. He was Russell Something and I found he died of some drug mixture . He was 30 something years old. Do you suppose his frieds/family will have Old Dirty Bastard engraved on his tombstone?I must admit that I cannot relate to rap or this genere of music. I was cruising through Clay City way too fast yesterday listening to Smokey Robinson as he sang his greatest hits. I don't own anything by Snoop Dog, nor will I, but I got a lecture from a friend in NYC when I asked the Nigerian cab driver who he was playing on the cd. He said "R. Kelly" and I kinda liked it. My friend said he molested women and younger girls, and that I shouldn't like him(R. Kelly). This same colleague loves Clay Aiken and gave me his new Christmas tape. I honestly think the tape sucks on its own merits. I think I'll buy the R. Kelly cd. I also must admit I speed very fast when Radar Love comes on the radio.I think I'll miss old Dirty Bastard because he found an identity he was comfortable with. Maybe I can speed through Eastern Kentucky listening to R. Kelly, but I won't admit it.

Funny Kentucky weather

Life is truly stranger than fiction. I was travelling to a job site in Lexington on Monday morning December 13th at around 9 o'clock in the morning, and as it started to really develop into a mini blizzard on US 68 (Harrodsburg Road) I thought that this is a bit overdue as we have been blessed with a very warm,but wet fall.Imagine suddenly being confronted with a character blazing out of the near white-out snow storm riding a commercial lawnmower cutting grass!! Honestly this employee of the horse farm was cutting the fence row on a speeding stand up ,commercial lawnmower. I felt I was either on the set of some bizarre Chevy Chase Christmas movie or that I was having a reaction to my Lipator or BLOODPRESSURE MEDICINE. Maybe being 55 years old has caused me to lose some of my ability to not be surprised by the out of ordinary. On a more sane note my wife wished me happy Anniversary this morning as I fell out of bed. She's a wonderful woman who gave me a fighting chance at being thoughtful by telling me first. Happy anniversary Sandy.You deserve George Bushes highest civilian honor for putting up with me for 31 years. Tommy Franks probably had a better tour in Iraq than you did for most of those 31 years. And Tommy got the award today.