On Being Southern…

“All I can say is that there’s a sweetness here, a Southern sweetness, that makes sweet music. . . . If I had to tell somebody who had never been to the South, who had never heard of soul music, what it was, I’d just have to tell him that it’s music from the heart, from the pulse, from the innermost feeling. That’s my soul, that’s how I sing. And that’s the South.”
– Al Green

“Do not ever give a Queen a home appliance as a gift. Period. The end. Now, an exception can be made in the event she just happens to mention in passing that she wishes she had, say, a full Viking kitchen, and then she goes out of town for a few days; and when she comes back, her entire kitchen is renovated with fabulous Viking appliances. She will be touched. On the other hand, if it is her birthday and you, all on your own, select, purchase, and present her with a Crock Pot, well, you are over.”
- Jill Conner Browne, The Sweet Potato Queen’s Book of Love

True grits, more grits, fish, grits, and collards.
Life is good where grits are swallered.
- Roy Blount, Jr.

(editoral comment… that’s the truth!)

Spanish Moss flutters in the wind like angel hair,
Look, don’t touch! Redbugs, you know - chiggers we call them.
But still, who can resist?
Lay and bask in it’s shade and feel it’s breeze…
Close your eyes and let those angels take you yonder away,
Paris, Rome, anywhere is fine,
Just as long as they bring you back
To where the Spanish Moss flutters in the wind like angel hair.
– Curtis Rice (who definitely ain’t a poet)

The summer picnic gave the ladies a chance to show off their baking hands. On the barbeque pit, chickens and spareribs sputtered in their own fat and a sauce whose recipe was guarded in the family like a scandalous affair.
—Maya Angelou

Anyone with a lick of sense knows that you can’t make good barbeque and comply with the health code.
—John Edgerton

Because I was born in the South, I’m a Southerner. If I had been born in the North, the West or the Central Plains, I would be just a human being.
—Clyde Edgerton

Southerners have a genius for psychological alchemy… If something intolerable simply cannot be changed, driven away or shot they will not only tolerate it but take pride in it as well.
—Florence King

“What has always been clear, for Southerner and non-Southerner alike, is that Dixie is the most fascinating part of the country. There may be a book out there called ‘The Great Midwest’ or ‘A Turn in the Midwest’ or ‘The Mind of the Midwest’ or ‘The Midwestern Mystique’, but if there is I’m certainly not aware of it.”
–Fred Hobson

“Down South everybody cherishes dreams. In dreams this world and the next mix like sugar and grits.”
—-Grandmother Ernestine, to novelist Jewell Parker Rhodes

Published in: on July 12, 2007 at 12:30 pm Comments (7)

Root Beer - the King of Pop

I remember as a kid one of most favorite treats was a trip to the A&W Drive-in. Dad would come home at the end of a hot summer day and after playing baseball all day, I’d be starving. Dad would announce that we were going to the A&W and we’d all pile into the station wagon and ramble to the other end of town to root beer and hamburger heaven. I would get a big ol’ hamburger with fries and an icy perfect frosty mug of A&W root beer, lean back in the back seat eating away and all would be well with the world.

Unfortunately, A&W Drive-ins don’t exist anymore, at least not where I live. We do have an A&W fast food place but it isn’t the same. But, at least, A&W still exist and that’s the main thing. I’ll always remember the A&W Drive-in as the beginning of my love affair with root beer.

Ever since Charles Hires developed his concoction of a non-alcoholic carbonated root beer, nothing has ever tasted better. Whereas most carbonated drinks are better with ice, root beer definitely is not. It’s best served icy cold in an icy mug. The only allowable substance that can be mixed with root beer is vanilla ice cream thus creating the Root Beer Float – the Float of Floats. It just doesn’t get any better.

Of course, there is root beer, and then there is root beer. The following is the Rice Rating of Root Beer:

Superior:
Stewarts (2006 Winner of the Root Beer World Cup)
A&W (mild, little sweet)
Hires

Good:
IBC
Frosty (used to be the best)

Bad: (all too fizzy)
Mugs
Barqs
Dads

Worst:
Shasta (root-beer flavored Alka-Seltzer

I know there are other brands out there, but these are all that are available to me. What do y’all think? Agree? Disagree?

Published in: on July 3, 2007 at 8:31 pm Comments (2)

Git out the banjo - we got a wedding…

Last week in Wilmington, NC, a 40 year old cross country coach resigned from the school and married one of his 16 year old runners. Now I know we are in the South and all and you hear about young-uns getting married all the time. Usually, the parents consent because their parents consented when they were 16 themselves. But this isn’t your usual sterotypical situation here. This is what is known:

- She is a exceptional student and a star athlete.
- Parents went to the school and the police to see if anything could be done. But neither could find any wrong doing on the part of the coach. The even tried to take out a restraining order against him.
- However, the parents had given the coach permission to provide a ride home from practice and meets and to run together during lunch and weekends. The girl (yes, girl) also rode with the coach to other places such as Walmart and the beach.
- The coach was in constant contact with her - calling and text messaging some 200 times in June alone as late as 3:00am.
- Friends who visited noticed the inappropriate behavior between the two.
- The coach had written the parents two months before stating that the two of them were only friends and that all they would ever be and that he would never jeopardize his job or her schooling.
- The newly wed couple aren’t talking.

What isn’t known is scary. The charge of statutory rape is out of the question now. Who’s going to bring charges? Granted, as already mentioned, there is no proof of such, but… What about the future? What will happen the first time he treats her like the child she is instead of the wife he wants her to be? And he needs a job. Well, good luck with that.

Of course, the victim in all of this is the girl. The parents finally signed a consent after a year of battle; that they were just worn out from it all. The parents say she would throw either a tantrum or a silent treatment when she didn’t get her way. Does that sound like someone mature enough to contemplate marriage? Were they so afraid to tell her to stay away from him when they realized this inappropriate relationship forming?

It seems this predator singled her out and groomed her for a relationship. According to a story that appeared in the State Port Pilot on Nov. 8, 2006, The girl was reported as saying:

“He’s very encouraging. He’s always telling us how proud he is. I’m proud of where I finished but he seems to be even more proud of me.”

Hmmm… what did he do to make her feel that way?

“She could have done anything,” says mom. “She could have set the world on fire. She threw it all away.”

Well, mom may be right in saying that the young girl has thrown her life away. But if that’s the case, the girl certainly had help. Her parents had the chance and the responsibility to draw a line and they didn’t do it. Maybe they did it to remove contention between them, but in the long run I’m afraid the girl has been thrown under the bus.

Only the future will answer all the questions. The newsworthiness of the whole affair will eventually die down so we may never know how it all turns out. I wish them well, I really do. Marriage is hard enough without glare through public’s microscope. But this is a bit much. We’ll see.

Published in: on June 25, 2007 at 7:03 pm Comments (1)

Men… what is really important?

In this day of gender equality, there are few lines drawn to differentiate between men and women. The glass ceiling is fast becoming a myth. You are as likely to see a househusband as a housewife. Power suits are no longer for men only.

However, there is one thing that men must cling to in order to maintain their masculinity. The line in the sand must be drawn on this thing and we men must never back down. If we ever lose control of this one thing then all will be lost and chaos will rule. We may as well shoot ourselves, because being a man as we know it will never be the same.

We must never lose control of the TV remote control – otherwise known as the “clicker”

In every household someone must be in control of the clicker or anarchy will reign. This control is bred into man’s instincts and therefore must bear the burden of clicker control.

One person might say, “I want to watch ‘Wheel of Fortune,’” and another might say, “I want to watch ‘Trading Spaces’” and another, “I want to watch WFF Wrestling” And what will happen? Everybody will go for the clicker, and domestic violence will erupt and someone will get hurt.

Don’t think it can happen?

A man and his wife and their two children sat down to watch an evening’s television in Oklahoma. All four wanted to see a different program, the man of the family did not have an ironfisted control of the clicker. So they all dived at it at once. The man suffered severe scratches from his wife’s fingernails, and she was bitten on the ankles by one of the children, who got poked in the eye during the fracas. The other child got the clicker and ran outside and as he was being chased by the rest of the family was hit head-on by a jogger. All five were treated and released at a local hospital.

As a man with the control of the clicker, you can watch two baseball games, the beginning of CSI to see what the show is about, James Bond on HBO, the TV listing to schedule what is coming on in thirty minutes, the commercial where the plane pilot jumps out of the aircraft for a six pack, catch the fourth, fifth and sixth replay of the crash in the Daytona 500, and back to CSI to see how the case was solved. Give a woman the control and you’ll have to sit there and watch for thirty minutes on how to use a glue gun to make jewelry out of a discarded egg carton.

Men, I hope you get my point. Never give up the clicker – never. Do so only in the throes of a warrior’s honorable defeat in battle, with clicker is still in the hand.

As a samurai would say, “It would be a good death.”

Published in: on June 19, 2007 at 4:06 pm Comments (1)

Poll time…

Sorry, y’all… it’s been a really busy time lately and it’s left exhausted. I’ll post something this week, even if it’s a rerun. Until then I want to take a poll.

When is everyone’s normal work hours and normal sleeping hours? I’m just curious.  Mine is 8:00am-5:pm work, 11:30pm-6:45am sleep

Welcome Kent! Good to see ya!!!

Later…

Published in: on June 18, 2007 at 12:32 pm Comments (2)

Design police bulletin!

And you thought the Beijing Olympic logo was bad. At least London only spent $792,000 for theirs. What do you think?

Published in: on June 7, 2007 at 4:56 pm Comments (3)

Hiltie Alert!!!

Paris Hilton has been freed from prison!!! Well, sort of. She still has to finish her original sentence (the brutes!) at home with one of those security ankle bracelets. I didn’t know you could get those Tiffanys, but what do I know. The reason given is she refused to eat the prison food. And why should she?!? Is it her fault that Sharper Image won’t deliver Trump Steaks to a correction institution? Anyway, if you participated in the ”Free Paris” letter writing campaign haven’t yet recieved your appreciation note from Paris, I’m sure it will arrive never in a million years soon.

Published in: on at 4:03 pm Comments (1)

American Idol? Tain’t Nuttin’!

The biggest show that’s been on television for the past few years has been American Idol. I enjoy it - sometimes it’s entertaining, sometimes it’s, well…  this. But I’ve run across something better - Eurovision! And it’s been going on for years, since 1956.

Every year, eligible European countries submit a songs to be performed by a person or persons from each country. The performers are not necessarily amateurs. Celine Dion (no jokes) won the contest for Sweden in 1988 and it was the springboard for ABBA in 1974. Eventually, 24 countries are in the finals for the big show. After the show, all eligible countries, whether they had a performance or not, vote on their favorite songs through phone voting. Only fifteen minutes is given for voting, and no one can vote for their own country. After the voting is complete, the votes are cast and a representative from each voting country presents their votes. It’s pretty entertaining as you see country’s names flying about on the scoreboard to reflect the real time standings. 

This year’s winner was a solo performance by a singer from Serbia. It wasn’t much a visual performance and the singer reminded me of a Chris Sligh with deflated hair. But her singing performance , completely in Serbian, was outstanding. In English the name of the song is “Prayer”. Apparently she is a professional singer and I can see why. She was simply fantasic.

Second place went to Ukraine. The main singer(?) reminded me of Mrs. Doubtfire wrapped in tinfoil with a star on her head performing some sort of demented polka. How they finished second I’ll never know. But you never can tell - last year’s winner was a hard rock group called Lordi from Finland… ugh. They were energetic, I’ll have to give them that.

Third place went to Russia - a rock group of three girls. If they weren’t singers they would be supermodels. Some of the phrases are a little inappropriate, but the performance sizzled.

Two others I really liked was Georgia (I’m a Georgia boy, no matter where Georgia is!) - “Visionary Dream” sung by Sopho. There was also Germany - a crooner much like Michael Buble. If you like that kind of music (and I love it), you’ll really enjoy this.

You can actually see the whole show. Go to Octoshape, load the plugin and watch the show. The quality is remarkable considering it’s a broadcast from somewhere in Europe. So if you’d like to enjoy an evening of something different, check it out.

Published in: on at 12:30 pm Comments (2)

My Favorite Things

(Sung to the tune of My Favorite Things with apologies to Julie Andrews)

Laptops with Vista and three gigs of RAM,
Big screens and hard drives and built-in webcams,
Broadband and T1, these things really zing!
These are a few of my favorite things.

YouTube and Google and then there’s eBay,
Email that I must check every day,
Screensavers that control my mood swings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the disk dies,
I lose my data,
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad.

(No, I don’t have a webcam… awww…)

Published in: on June 1, 2007 at 1:35 pm Comments (5)

Absolute Power

(The following is a re-run from a previous blog. I’m on vacation this week and will be back sometime next week. See y’all later…)

As Dave can very well attest, we IT people are a special breed. As do presidents, kings, dictators and mothers, we weld a tremendous amount of power. The popular notion is that “IT” stands for “Information Technology”. But for anyone who had ever dealt with an IT person knows that IT really stands for “InTimidation“. But alas, some people learn this the hard way.

Take, for instance, a user who calls me the other day without the proper decorum and respect for my postion. Instead he calls, believing he can actually command me to do his bidding:

“This is Ellis. I need more disk space on the server,” he practically demands. I remind him that everyone has a set quota and perhaps he should delete some files that he isn’t using. “Don’t be stupid. Everything I have on the server is important. I need more space and I need it now.”

Stupid? Uh oh…

I respond with my most submissive voice while remotely and stealthly logging into his computer. “I’m sorry. I believe maybe I can accomodate you. How much additional disk space do you need exactly?” Meanwhile I’m deleting his installation of Doom. And he thought I wouldn’t see that. Heh, heh…

“I need 80MB additional disk space.” That is the amount of his entire quota. Oh, what the heck.

cd\ellis
delete *.*

“There done. 8MB free space at your service.”

“Cool. 160MB capacity. I could really use that.”

Sucker. He can’t hear the time bomb ticking.

“Well, actually, you still have the original 80MB. It’s just there is nothing there.”

“WHAT!?!?!”

“Sorry, I don’t know to tell you. Oh, I’m supposed to warn all the users not to install any games on the server, especially Doom. It has some virus or something that wipes out their disk quota. But I know I don’t really have to tell you this. You would never put illegal software on a server.”

I hear the panicky tapping of keys over the phone. The meltdown is about to happen.

“Uh… of course I…..(audible gasp!)… wouldn’t do… (choking sound)…”

“Anyway, I gotta go. Ta-ta.” I hang up to the sound of sobbing on the other end of the phone.

Hey, hey… I really kill me sometimes, I really do.

Don’t think I have that kind of power? Watch your screen real close. Did it just blink? No? Are you suuuure?

Published in: on May 31, 2007 at 2:25 am Comments (4)