It’s a No-Love-Thursday:
Thought for the Day:
The old ways are dead. And you need people around you who concur.
That means hanging out more with the creative people, the freaks, the real visionaries, than you're already doing. Thinking more about what their needs are, and responding accordingly. Avoid the dullards; avoid the folk who play it safe. They can't help you any more. Their stability model no longer offers that much stability. They are extinct, they are extinction.
Hugh Macleod, How To Be Creative: 16
NLT:
Today dear reader, is the day when across this great nation and dare I say it, the world, people of like minds join together at sacred watering holes, to imbibe to much fine wine, fermented hops and distilled liquors. Our goal has but one purpose; to be bitter to one and all.
Think of it as a drinking mans Gestalt, an alcohol induced mental and/or emotional enema. Where points are scored, by the depth of the cutting remarks, to friend or foe, and where the leadership changes with every meeting. Liberté, égalité, fraternité, ou la mort!
It is with sadness, I can not be physically there with you my brothers and sisters (someone is paying me to go and sound like I know what the fuck I am talking about for 2 hours this evening), but know in sprit I am there with you, ordering you one more shot than you needed, telling you how your mother never liked you.
I salute you, you leaders in you fields, you intellectual vanguard, you heroes of Greek Myth. Lift you glass high and know, today we are all united.
My Humanitarian Mission to the Deep South (Vol III):
(While staying in Memphis accommodations were provided by “Sweet Baby Ray’s Hotel and Open Pit BBQ” midtown Memphis, just across from the rail road tracks.)
Pastor Bob and I arrived, in the early Friday afternoon. We were warmly welcomed by J. Thomas, the man with a sax for an ax and enjoyed some sweet tea in the shade of a magnolia tree. Time was spent observing the colorful street life evident in the neighborhood he resides. I felt at home, however Pastor Bob, made sure to put his money in his sock and lock up his car. I would have done the same but I tend to keep a straight razor in my sock.
Well, there we were, un-packed, road weary, but ready to hard charge. During the discussion of who, what, when and where, we would go next, I was struck by a moment of divine inspiration. I uttered the words, that only rarely before have crossed my lips and never during one of my many trips to the jewel of the mid-south.
I said, “whatever ya’ll want to do is fine with me. I am not drinking this weekend, I will do the driving”. Yes, dear reader, pick yourself up off the floor. JQP not drinking. Shock and dismay was written on the faces of those present. “The Boy-King not Drink?” "Peter Pan, growing up?” Bacchus on the Wagon?” Dear reader, there was much gnashing of teeth and rending of clothes. Fear not, I still retained my Pan Flute.
Why you might ask, had I taken such a radical departure, from culturally accepted norms and/or my routine behavior? Behold the reasons and method to my madness.
The Wednesday prior, as I already addressed, I got drunk, drunker than usual, let’s just say that besides my concept of time being disabled, my self-editor was also put out of commission. Much, to my relief today my Flower told me she is no longer mad at me, which means I can sleep now with both eyes closed and without fear of waking up on fire (unless it’s all a clever trick, women are sneaky that way). Let’s just say mistakes were made and both JQP and alcohol were a factor.
Also contributing to my course of action was the culture that both J. Thomas and I were raised in. Think “Lord of the Fly’s” with an edge. A man, from our place in the world, when faced with emotional pain goes through a very scripted series of actions. First, he gets drunk, then he get drunker, then he gets into a fight (repeat if necessary, need not be Irish to apply). We are simple men, we feel driven to translate our pain, our hurt, into something real, something tangible. Whether that translation is a broken nose, or a black eye, or a gunshot wound (both for ourselves and/or others).
I decided that someone needed to stay sober, since being in the custody of those fine members of Southern Law Enforcement, was not how I wanted to spend my summer vacation. This was met by a great deal of resistance by those present. With statements like: “You fucking pick now to go on the wagon?” “Who is going to start the fights?’ “Bullshit, if I buy it you will drink it”
I retorted like Cain in Ku-Fu with this: “Young grasshoppers, who was it who go you out of jail (I established eye contact with each in turn)”. They in unison replied, “It’s wasn’t you fucker”. There in lay the lesson, it wasn’t me. Nor will/would it be, as a matter of fact, I was going to do my best to make sure, no civilians were harmed during the making of this trip, just as I was going to insure that the dumb ass activity wouldn’t go off the scale as it normally does. Fret not dear reader, like an onion, there are many layers to this story.
That being done, we decided to go have a few drinks and eat some ribs. J. Thomas calling his friend Casper the Friendly Ghost (who I might add is a biologist, Canadian and left handed on his mother’s side). We went to Young Ave. Deli in midtown Memphis, where Pastor Bob accompanied by J. Thomas washed the dust from the road down with a few dozen PBRs. I drank sweet tea, so sweet in fact I at one point thought of asking our half assed waitress (to be a waitress at the Deli, you have to A) have sleeve tattoos, B) be indifferent to the needs of your customers) for a shot of tea to go with my sugar (this was to be a reoccurring theme).
The Young Avenue Deli in midtown, if not all of midtown, is one of those places the tourists miss, its designed that way. Everyone is hip, everything is over priced, it is the place to see and be seen (much like Broad Ripple is in Indy). …and yes, the ladies are fine, granted there seemed to be very few from the south, they we are from the north somewhere, see what a liberal arts degree will get you.
After J. Thomas and the Pastor had enjoyed enough of their liquid psychotropics, I suggested dinner might be in order. J. Thomas called Casper, and we set out, for what would have to be the finest ribs I have ever had (outside of South By-God Carolina). We went to the Central BBQ, which also happens to be in Midtown. Brothers and Sisters, that was some damn good eaten. I got two racks and went to town.
There is an almost sexual joy in eating good BBQ Ribs, it’s like touching perfection, I imagine women experience something close to that when they have orgasms (at least as they seemed to in “Ass Blasters III, The Return of King Dong”). Granted like all of TN, their hot BBQ sauce left a little to be desired to a refined palette such as mine. However "it s'all good" you would be remiss if you didn’t eat there on any trip to Memphis.
We passed the time between bites, learning about Casper’s primitive society in Canada, it was with foresight I had brought my Canadian-English dictionary. It seems he is from a tiny fishing village called Vancouver, and was so poor he had to live on a boat. Sad, to be from a country so poor they don’t litter.
In our next exciting installment hear our hero say “Don’t worry, what could happen to us in Mississippi?”)
Memphis
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midtown,_Memphis
http://www.centralbbq.net/index.html
Your Mail Order Brides for the Week:
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Emmading
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=monicazzmo
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=hellion
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Jackie
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Abri
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=aramia27
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Taly777
Today’s Bill:
"That he's mad, 'tis true, 'tis true 'tis pity,
And pity 'tis 'tis true."
From Hamlet (II, ii, 97-98)
Quote of the Day:
America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between. Oscar Wilde
I remain, your very own personal bright shinning star on the horizon:
JQP esq.
The old ways are dead. And you need people around you who concur.
That means hanging out more with the creative people, the freaks, the real visionaries, than you're already doing. Thinking more about what their needs are, and responding accordingly. Avoid the dullards; avoid the folk who play it safe. They can't help you any more. Their stability model no longer offers that much stability. They are extinct, they are extinction.
Hugh Macleod, How To Be Creative: 16
NLT:
Today dear reader, is the day when across this great nation and dare I say it, the world, people of like minds join together at sacred watering holes, to imbibe to much fine wine, fermented hops and distilled liquors. Our goal has but one purpose; to be bitter to one and all.
Think of it as a drinking mans Gestalt, an alcohol induced mental and/or emotional enema. Where points are scored, by the depth of the cutting remarks, to friend or foe, and where the leadership changes with every meeting. Liberté, égalité, fraternité, ou la mort!
It is with sadness, I can not be physically there with you my brothers and sisters (someone is paying me to go and sound like I know what the fuck I am talking about for 2 hours this evening), but know in sprit I am there with you, ordering you one more shot than you needed, telling you how your mother never liked you.
I salute you, you leaders in you fields, you intellectual vanguard, you heroes of Greek Myth. Lift you glass high and know, today we are all united.
My Humanitarian Mission to the Deep South (Vol III):
(While staying in Memphis accommodations were provided by “Sweet Baby Ray’s Hotel and Open Pit BBQ” midtown Memphis, just across from the rail road tracks.)
Pastor Bob and I arrived, in the early Friday afternoon. We were warmly welcomed by J. Thomas, the man with a sax for an ax and enjoyed some sweet tea in the shade of a magnolia tree. Time was spent observing the colorful street life evident in the neighborhood he resides. I felt at home, however Pastor Bob, made sure to put his money in his sock and lock up his car. I would have done the same but I tend to keep a straight razor in my sock.
Well, there we were, un-packed, road weary, but ready to hard charge. During the discussion of who, what, when and where, we would go next, I was struck by a moment of divine inspiration. I uttered the words, that only rarely before have crossed my lips and never during one of my many trips to the jewel of the mid-south.
I said, “whatever ya’ll want to do is fine with me. I am not drinking this weekend, I will do the driving”. Yes, dear reader, pick yourself up off the floor. JQP not drinking. Shock and dismay was written on the faces of those present. “The Boy-King not Drink?” "Peter Pan, growing up?” Bacchus on the Wagon?” Dear reader, there was much gnashing of teeth and rending of clothes. Fear not, I still retained my Pan Flute.
Why you might ask, had I taken such a radical departure, from culturally accepted norms and/or my routine behavior? Behold the reasons and method to my madness.
The Wednesday prior, as I already addressed, I got drunk, drunker than usual, let’s just say that besides my concept of time being disabled, my self-editor was also put out of commission. Much, to my relief today my Flower told me she is no longer mad at me, which means I can sleep now with both eyes closed and without fear of waking up on fire (unless it’s all a clever trick, women are sneaky that way). Let’s just say mistakes were made and both JQP and alcohol were a factor.
Also contributing to my course of action was the culture that both J. Thomas and I were raised in. Think “Lord of the Fly’s” with an edge. A man, from our place in the world, when faced with emotional pain goes through a very scripted series of actions. First, he gets drunk, then he get drunker, then he gets into a fight (repeat if necessary, need not be Irish to apply). We are simple men, we feel driven to translate our pain, our hurt, into something real, something tangible. Whether that translation is a broken nose, or a black eye, or a gunshot wound (both for ourselves and/or others).
I decided that someone needed to stay sober, since being in the custody of those fine members of Southern Law Enforcement, was not how I wanted to spend my summer vacation. This was met by a great deal of resistance by those present. With statements like: “You fucking pick now to go on the wagon?” “Who is going to start the fights?’ “Bullshit, if I buy it you will drink it”
I retorted like Cain in Ku-Fu with this: “Young grasshoppers, who was it who go you out of jail (I established eye contact with each in turn)”. They in unison replied, “It’s wasn’t you fucker”. There in lay the lesson, it wasn’t me. Nor will/would it be, as a matter of fact, I was going to do my best to make sure, no civilians were harmed during the making of this trip, just as I was going to insure that the dumb ass activity wouldn’t go off the scale as it normally does. Fret not dear reader, like an onion, there are many layers to this story.
That being done, we decided to go have a few drinks and eat some ribs. J. Thomas calling his friend Casper the Friendly Ghost (who I might add is a biologist, Canadian and left handed on his mother’s side). We went to Young Ave. Deli in midtown Memphis, where Pastor Bob accompanied by J. Thomas washed the dust from the road down with a few dozen PBRs. I drank sweet tea, so sweet in fact I at one point thought of asking our half assed waitress (to be a waitress at the Deli, you have to A) have sleeve tattoos, B) be indifferent to the needs of your customers) for a shot of tea to go with my sugar (this was to be a reoccurring theme).
The Young Avenue Deli in midtown, if not all of midtown, is one of those places the tourists miss, its designed that way. Everyone is hip, everything is over priced, it is the place to see and be seen (much like Broad Ripple is in Indy). …and yes, the ladies are fine, granted there seemed to be very few from the south, they we are from the north somewhere, see what a liberal arts degree will get you.
After J. Thomas and the Pastor had enjoyed enough of their liquid psychotropics, I suggested dinner might be in order. J. Thomas called Casper, and we set out, for what would have to be the finest ribs I have ever had (outside of South By-God Carolina). We went to the Central BBQ, which also happens to be in Midtown. Brothers and Sisters, that was some damn good eaten. I got two racks and went to town.
There is an almost sexual joy in eating good BBQ Ribs, it’s like touching perfection, I imagine women experience something close to that when they have orgasms (at least as they seemed to in “Ass Blasters III, The Return of King Dong”). Granted like all of TN, their hot BBQ sauce left a little to be desired to a refined palette such as mine. However "it s'all good" you would be remiss if you didn’t eat there on any trip to Memphis.
We passed the time between bites, learning about Casper’s primitive society in Canada, it was with foresight I had brought my Canadian-English dictionary. It seems he is from a tiny fishing village called Vancouver, and was so poor he had to live on a boat. Sad, to be from a country so poor they don’t litter.
In our next exciting installment hear our hero say “Don’t worry, what could happen to us in Mississippi?”)
Memphis
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midtown,_Memphis
http://www.centralbbq.net/index.html
Your Mail Order Brides for the Week:
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Emmading
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=monicazzmo
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=hellion
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Jackie
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Abri
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=aramia27
http://www.eastwestmatch.com/search.cfm?from=email&nick=Taly777
Today’s Bill:
"That he's mad, 'tis true, 'tis true 'tis pity,
And pity 'tis 'tis true."
From Hamlet (II, ii, 97-98)
Quote of the Day:
America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between. Oscar Wilde
I remain, your very own personal bright shinning star on the horizon:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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