Road Food, Porn Shops, Arkansas and me:
Thought for the Day:
A magician pulls rabbits out of hats. An experimental psychologist pulls habits out of rats. Anonymous
(Mama just needs a little Sugar in her bowl.)
My Humanitarian Mission to the Deep South (Vol II):
Friday morning Pastor Bob picked me up at the manor house at 2:30 am. He immediately acquiesced to my demands of the drivers’ seat, bowing to my far superior driving skills and my innate sense of direction (I am much like a homing pigeon). I was to remain in this position for the remainder of the trip. You see we had a schedule to keep. One of the greatest joys I have had selling Bibles door to door in the great state of Indiana, is the fact that I get to learn where good food is.
Brothers and sisters I wanted to get some donuts. Not any normal kind of pussy donuts, I wanted square donuts. There is only one place to get good square donuts and that is Terre Haute, IN. So we rolled. I made the 4.5 hours drive in 3, just in time for them to be putting the first donuts out. I like the beat the crowd and damn they were tasty. After that sugary treat, it was a mad dash to Effingham, IL. Which like most of that state is rather unremarkable. From there we took a left and we headed south.
Traveling at an average speed of 90, we made good time. Pastor Bob however often slipped to the floor board in heavy traffic, crying Sweet Jesus and saying Hail Mary’s (which of course proves my point that all Prots. are Catholic at heart). As Butchie would say “Ricky Bobby, Muther-Fucker”.
Since there is no good food in south-western Illinois I will not bore you with the details of that leg of our trip. Instead, I will say that on the way down we traveled through MO, stopping only at the Lions Den Adult Superstore, why? you the reader might ask. Well because the bill board said “Adult Superstore, Fuel and Food” how can one pass up something like that up? Pornos, gas and a BLT, count me in. I seized it as an opportunity to pick up a little something for the Mrs. (she likes gifts) and by a "little something" I mean, anything that was smaller that me.
Did you know that both Mark Twain and Mythots are from Missouri? I did. But then again, I am smart like that, in a circus mind reader, Jeopardy winner kind of way, but enough about me, on with the trip.
We hit Arkansas in time for a late lunch. I stopped at a gas station and they recommended Gene's Pit Bar-B-Q in the boom town of Brinkley, AR. I enjoy some good BBQ, granted it was not as spicy as I like it, but damn good never the less. Well worth getting off the interstate.
Next, stop was West Memphis, if ever there is a tribute to the American Trucker it is West Memphis, AR. Sadly, this was the first time I had ever seen it in broad daylight, which made it even less inspiring that usual. For those of you who didn’t know, West Memphis, is one big truck stop, bob tails welcome.
Then friends, across the bridge to that City of myth Memphis, went Pastor Bob and I.
I have been going to Memphis, about once or twice a year since 1990. It’s a fun town, more so if you know how to navigate its steamy underbelly without getting yourself killed (they don’t call me JQP the Navigator for nothing).
It’s a city of One Million people and 10,000 bands, who all gig. A city where the women are hot, the music good and the booze cheap & plentiful. But dear reader, I was not there for drunken exploits and cheap gratuitous sexual encounters, I was there on a humanitarian mission.
J. Thomas, The Jazz Man, I should let you the reader know that J. Thomas is my best friend, well, the one who as known me the longest and put up with my shit the best. We have known each other since we were 14, when I told him I was going to kick his ass and he ran away from me till he found a big stick and beat me about the head with it. That J. Thomas, he’s a thinker. We even became blood brothers, him cutting his hand in a solemn Indian ritual and me tearing off a scab because I am not fucking stupid enough to cut myself (AIDs, hell this was even before Herpes, that and what do I look like a 13 year old girl who wears black, cut myself, hell no).
You see J. Thomas, is going through a hard time. Early this summer, he was getting ready to go on a tour of Europe with his band “J. Thomas and the Jazztones” (they even have matching suits and everything). This dear reader is When the Worm turned For Him.
You see his wife and child were taking him to the airport, when at the gate, she leaned over and said “When you get back, me and the baby will be gone, I already have a new place to stay and new friends…It’s for the best” and with that she turned and walked away.
Now, I have done my share of breaking up, but damn that was cold. She knew he was going to be gone for 3 weeks, so she kicked him in the metaphorical balls. And gutted him like a deer on the first day of the season.
Now an aside, one thing I have noticed about Southern Women vs. Yankee Women, is Yankee women will bitch and bitch a lot, they let you know what they think is wrong with your relationship and exactly how its all you fucking fault. A Southern Woman, however, won’t say shit. She will sit there and put up with it until she has had enough, then she will either leave you or cut you witha knife.
Once her ass is out the fucking door you’re lucky if she doesn’t have a lot of thick necked brothers, who will then feel the need to kill you. Another thing Yankee's mistake politeness for being nice, just because I am polite doesn’t mean I won’t burn your barn down you fucking cracker. Let's just say those are some things I have noticed.
Suffice to say, J. Thomas was back from his tour of Poland, Finland, and Bugaria and was in a bad place, you see he loved his wife and more so his child (my God-daughter) my brother man had the Blues.
Stay Tuned for Vol. III, when we hear our hero say “Nope, no drinks for me I am the designated driver”
Indiana
http://www.hollyeats.com/SquareDonut.htm
Arkansas
http://www.bbq-porch.org/reviews/ar.asp
Your Peeing Pick for the week:
Today’s Bill:
“By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes."
From Macbeth (IV, i, 44-45)
Your Quote for the Day:
This is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must learn not to be frightened by absurdities. Bertrand Russell
I remain, the sand in the swim trunks of your dreams:
JQP esq.
A magician pulls rabbits out of hats. An experimental psychologist pulls habits out of rats. Anonymous
(Mama just needs a little Sugar in her bowl.)
My Humanitarian Mission to the Deep South (Vol II):
Friday morning Pastor Bob picked me up at the manor house at 2:30 am. He immediately acquiesced to my demands of the drivers’ seat, bowing to my far superior driving skills and my innate sense of direction (I am much like a homing pigeon). I was to remain in this position for the remainder of the trip. You see we had a schedule to keep. One of the greatest joys I have had selling Bibles door to door in the great state of Indiana, is the fact that I get to learn where good food is.
Brothers and sisters I wanted to get some donuts. Not any normal kind of pussy donuts, I wanted square donuts. There is only one place to get good square donuts and that is Terre Haute, IN. So we rolled. I made the 4.5 hours drive in 3, just in time for them to be putting the first donuts out. I like the beat the crowd and damn they were tasty. After that sugary treat, it was a mad dash to Effingham, IL. Which like most of that state is rather unremarkable. From there we took a left and we headed south.
Traveling at an average speed of 90, we made good time. Pastor Bob however often slipped to the floor board in heavy traffic, crying Sweet Jesus and saying Hail Mary’s (which of course proves my point that all Prots. are Catholic at heart). As Butchie would say “Ricky Bobby, Muther-Fucker”.
Since there is no good food in south-western Illinois I will not bore you with the details of that leg of our trip. Instead, I will say that on the way down we traveled through MO, stopping only at the Lions Den Adult Superstore, why? you the reader might ask. Well because the bill board said “Adult Superstore, Fuel and Food” how can one pass up something like that up? Pornos, gas and a BLT, count me in. I seized it as an opportunity to pick up a little something for the Mrs. (she likes gifts) and by a "little something" I mean, anything that was smaller that me.
Did you know that both Mark Twain and Mythots are from Missouri? I did. But then again, I am smart like that, in a circus mind reader, Jeopardy winner kind of way, but enough about me, on with the trip.
We hit Arkansas in time for a late lunch. I stopped at a gas station and they recommended Gene's Pit Bar-B-Q in the boom town of Brinkley, AR. I enjoy some good BBQ, granted it was not as spicy as I like it, but damn good never the less. Well worth getting off the interstate.
Next, stop was West Memphis, if ever there is a tribute to the American Trucker it is West Memphis, AR. Sadly, this was the first time I had ever seen it in broad daylight, which made it even less inspiring that usual. For those of you who didn’t know, West Memphis, is one big truck stop, bob tails welcome.
Then friends, across the bridge to that City of myth Memphis, went Pastor Bob and I.
I have been going to Memphis, about once or twice a year since 1990. It’s a fun town, more so if you know how to navigate its steamy underbelly without getting yourself killed (they don’t call me JQP the Navigator for nothing).
It’s a city of One Million people and 10,000 bands, who all gig. A city where the women are hot, the music good and the booze cheap & plentiful. But dear reader, I was not there for drunken exploits and cheap gratuitous sexual encounters, I was there on a humanitarian mission.
J. Thomas, The Jazz Man, I should let you the reader know that J. Thomas is my best friend, well, the one who as known me the longest and put up with my shit the best. We have known each other since we were 14, when I told him I was going to kick his ass and he ran away from me till he found a big stick and beat me about the head with it. That J. Thomas, he’s a thinker. We even became blood brothers, him cutting his hand in a solemn Indian ritual and me tearing off a scab because I am not fucking stupid enough to cut myself (AIDs, hell this was even before Herpes, that and what do I look like a 13 year old girl who wears black, cut myself, hell no).
You see J. Thomas, is going through a hard time. Early this summer, he was getting ready to go on a tour of Europe with his band “J. Thomas and the Jazztones” (they even have matching suits and everything). This dear reader is When the Worm turned For Him.
You see his wife and child were taking him to the airport, when at the gate, she leaned over and said “When you get back, me and the baby will be gone, I already have a new place to stay and new friends…It’s for the best” and with that she turned and walked away.
Now, I have done my share of breaking up, but damn that was cold. She knew he was going to be gone for 3 weeks, so she kicked him in the metaphorical balls. And gutted him like a deer on the first day of the season.
Now an aside, one thing I have noticed about Southern Women vs. Yankee Women, is Yankee women will bitch and bitch a lot, they let you know what they think is wrong with your relationship and exactly how its all you fucking fault. A Southern Woman, however, won’t say shit. She will sit there and put up with it until she has had enough, then she will either leave you or cut you witha knife.
Once her ass is out the fucking door you’re lucky if she doesn’t have a lot of thick necked brothers, who will then feel the need to kill you. Another thing Yankee's mistake politeness for being nice, just because I am polite doesn’t mean I won’t burn your barn down you fucking cracker. Let's just say those are some things I have noticed.
Suffice to say, J. Thomas was back from his tour of Poland, Finland, and Bugaria and was in a bad place, you see he loved his wife and more so his child (my God-daughter) my brother man had the Blues.
Stay Tuned for Vol. III, when we hear our hero say “Nope, no drinks for me I am the designated driver”
Indiana
http://www.hollyeats.com/SquareDonut.htm
Arkansas
http://www.bbq-porch.org/reviews/ar.asp
Your Peeing Pick for the week:
Today’s Bill:
“By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes."
From Macbeth (IV, i, 44-45)
Your Quote for the Day:
This is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must learn not to be frightened by absurdities. Bertrand Russell
I remain, the sand in the swim trunks of your dreams:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 PM
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