A New Suthun Tradition?

There is a new tradition sweeping our great nation, and it seems to have roots in the south. As I was standing in line waiting for my limousine, I got into a conversation with a lady about where her son asked to go for his 10th birthday. The answer elicited a few smiles, but when she said they TOOK him there, I nearly fell down. Where? HOOTERS.

Now, for those of you not in the know, or who live under a rock, Hooters is a restaurant chain born in Georgia, named after a slang term for a woman's breasts their OWL mascot, who's name is Dr. Hootie (owls 'hoot', hence the name.) That alone is not the questionable reference. The problem is that Hooters has these young nubile strippers waitresses who wear a uniform consisting of a pair of orange shorts and a rather tight fitting tee shirt (See reference shot above.) Since these young nubile strippers waitresses cannot help but show off their mammalian attributes (clever phrase, huh?) because of the aforementioned tight fitting tee shirt, one is immediately struck by the fact that the reference to HOOTERS may, in fact, refer to those same mammalian attributes. In addition, the restaurant is named Hooters, not Hooties or even more grammatically Hootie's. But that in itself is not the issue here. Not today anyway. (And just what is DR. Hootie a Doctor of, anyway? The quick guess is plastic surgery...but I digress...as I often do...)

It appears that a growing number of Suthunas are taking their pre-pubescent and teen aged males to this 'restaurant' for their celebrations and not just birthdays, either. New Drivers License? Head to Hooters! Little League Win? Take the Team to HOOTERS! First pair of Big boy Pants? Uh...Hooters?

Even this alone would seem only 'smirkable' by most standards, especially considering that Hooters does, in fact, make some good fare. (Hot Wings any one?) BUT it is the obligatory PHOTO OP with the well endowed stripper waitress(es) which gets me wondering "Exactly what are we teaching our kids today?' Now, we've probably all seen those pictures of the Frat Boy Wanna-Bees with the half empty mug of Non Light Beer standing next to the aforementioned strippers waitress, AND I'm sure that Bubba (No, Carl, not you) wants to have a photo with the tightly-tee-fitted strippers waitress, but why do we have to do that with little Timmy? I mean, let's take a look at the evidence, shall we?

This guy looks to me to be under driving age, and the kind of kid you see out mowing lawns. By the look on his face, he knows darned well why they named the place Hooters.

Yes, I had to edit the photo, due to the age of these kids as well as the incredibly large and inappropriate smiles on the faces of the kids at the right.

And it's obvious that this kid really doesn't care what the name of the place is. He's not trying to read the strippers waitress's name tag!

Now, these two appear to have SOME idea of what's going on, but seem incredibly uncomfortable in so doing.

I've saved this one for near the end. It appears as if the girl(?) on the left is patiently putting up with the photo op, and the guy on the right is all for it. BUT, let's add into that the celebration itself. They've been awarded something there...look close...YES, it's a bottle of Corona Extra - that's right, what looks to be a QUART BOTTLE of Imported Beer! Just what two little tykes need - and the obligatory photo op with a couple of young nubile< strippers waitresses...

I'll leave you with one last photo, the one that really makes you wonder why there is no licensing procedure for Parenthood...

Heck, even the kid seemssurprised at the turn of events.

I also want to point out what I had to endure to find all these photos. You cannot imagine the kinds of photos that pop up when you type the word "Hooters" into a search engine. (I should have expected it, I suppose...) I slogged through them all, for you, my fans....It was hard work, but someone had to do it.

There was Historic Flooding in Nashville

Yes, it sounds like it could be a country song, but thanks to 130 year record-breaking rains (more than 15" in 48 hours) the rivers (yes, plural) are rising even as the sun finally breaks through.

Take a moment from your blog reading day and say a prayer or send out good thoughts to those who have lost so much.

Being in the center of it all has been an incredible experience. You all know what it's like to watch the rescue efforts over the TV, but to go out and find your regular stores, places you frequent, even the streets you use regularly closed and under water is a very humbling experience.

We were very lucky. Our house sits on a rise and other than a bit of extra water under the house, we got off unscathed. The flooding in our area (east of town) is limited to those areas around the creeks and rivers. One river runs right from the dam into the area and ended up flooding two shopping centers we frequent on a regular basis.

I cannot imagine the amount of loss in personal effects, houses, and even cars (not to mention the known 12 deaths from the flooding) and then add to that the loss in tourism dollars, wages and lost items in the stores flooded. Editorials on this have been written by others, and I will only suggest you take a moment and donate a few bucks to some charity (www.hon.com) Yet, even with all this loss, the Suthunaz have come out in full force to help their neighbors. Earlier today the mayor announced that the shelters were innundated with donations and volunteers. Hey, this is the volunteer state, remember? There were not calls to action, no pleas for help. When the tragedy struck, people helped. No one asked, it just happened. Boats came out to ferry people to safety. People opened their homes, their wallets and their hearts.

Again, it's just one of the things I love about living in the south. Want to help?
Make a donation to a charity, visit www.hon.com (hands on nashville).

Thanks for reading, back to the usual stuff next post.

Sofa...so good...

I love the slow lifestyle in the south. It is a way of viewing everything in a less hurried, less hassled, less time conscious frame of being. You can see this in the number of houses which have chairs, couches and even swings for sitting and relaxing after a long day of...well, bein' suthun.

This lovely home has gone that one step further, as many a suthunah is known to do, and put his old couch up on suspension for a front yard swing. It looks both scary and relaxing at the same time.

The Southern Women's Show

This last weekend was the annual Southern Women's Show, here in Nashville. They have several of these special "women's" events across the south every year. I've never gone to this event mainly because I am not a woman, but also becuase I've yet to feel that I am really SUTHUN. My wife and I have talked about this, and we can't really figure out what the show is for. WHat does one learn or SEE at these 'shows'?

From the title, one might expect that the information gleaned from the seminars and displays can help the truley Suthun Woman to be ...well...more Suthun. So, what kind of displays and information would you expect?

Could it be that you can learn how to use Duct Tape as pasties?


Can you find out more information on what to do when you find you're the last one at a party and no one left to help clean up?


Or finally, with the constant use of new materials and color schemes for weddings, a southern woman might want to know how to choose the proper colors so that one does not blend in with the suroundings.

...What is that kid looking at that would give him that expression?

Suthun Man's Car Alarm (and most anything else)

The true suthun man owns a dog. (Perhaps yet another reason that my membership has been delayed? Cats just don't seem to make it...) The real suthun man's best friend is a member of the family, it goes where they go, does what they do. Goin Fishin? Got the dog right here to keep away the critters. Goin to the store? Got the 'car alarm' right here to look after the stuff in the truck bed.

It is noted herein, and ever more (don't ya love legal like language?) that those vile creatures who exile their dog to the back yard, or the car lot (we won't even go into those jerks who use dogs for fighting, and save that rant for someone better suited) should be hung with a length of chain and left to the wolves.

In our neighborhood we have now two of these wanna be suthunaz who own dogs. I use the term DOG here quite loosely as these little yappy stomachs on legs are in no way related to the type of dogs that a real suthun man has. Suthun Men go for Labradors, German Shepherd and the like - even the now well known Heinz 57. (Aka MUTT for those who are struggling with the phrase.) The dog's size being more important than the actual lineage. My neighbors have gone with the type of dog you can hear, but not see. They are so short and small that a blush of daisies will obscure them completely until they move. The one way to find them is to track their constant YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant...YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant...YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant (I would type this out for a few lines, but just reading it puts my teeth on edge.) My lovely Wife is kept up most of the night by these little [expletive deleted for the sake of the children] and even calling and asking them to take care of the demonettes doesn't seem to stop it. They stop it at the time, but as soon as everyone is back in bed....YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant...YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant...YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant...

And while I'm on to it, why is it that everyone in the neighborhood can hear these little rat-dogs when the owners are the closest and can't seem to hear a dog gone thing? Ok OK, enough of my ranting.

If you own one of those ...YAP-YAP-YAP...pant pant THINGS, treat it like your kids. TAke it in the house at night and put it to bed where no one can hear it. And during the day, send it away to dog school or something so we don't have to put up with that constant ...YAP-YAP-YAP...YAP-YAP-YAP... Or at least my wife doesn't have to put up with it.

Good Ol' Boys and the Good Ol' Boy Network

There is a phrase in the South that everyone knows and uses. (Heck, everyone in the English speaking world and then some knows and uses it!) It's the "Good Ol' Boys" and I've been trying to become a member for over 20 years. I may never be a "Good Ol' Boy" though I'm not sure why or why not. So, let's take today and discuss what it takes to become a Good Ol' Boy (and for the sake of my typing, we shall forever more refer to this membership in life as GOB, all in capital letters, kinda formal like....)

Being a GOB may actually be written in one's DNA, giving one the ability from birth to hunt (I cannot) drink beer (I could never get into the taste of beer) and connect with other GOBs in some secret and maybe even metaphysical way which allows them to fit in with society. My own endeavors (or lack thereof) in the GOB world may prove this theory out. 20 years of trying, still no cigar.

In writing this dissertation (OK, BLOG) I looked up to see what the internet might say about GOBs (not that the internet is such a fount of information on the GOB, but it was close, and easy and...did I mention close and easy?) Wikipedia says, "Good ol' boy," (note the lack of correct upper case "O" and "B" but I digress...I do that a lot....) "is a slang term used in the United States and Canada," (seriously? Canada?), "either to self identify" (wait, this is a self identification? Why didn't anyone tell me?) as or to refer to a male usually white and of Northern/Western-European descent, who lives in a rural area and/or subscribes to a traditionally rural lifestyle." Whew, what a mouthful. Reminds me of my school days. Now, I know a few GOBs who are not white, so I needed to look further.

My favorite description comes from Wiktionary. "A male friend or chum, especially a schoolmate; a man with an established network of friends who assist one another in social and business situations; a decent, dependable fellow." Now, THIS I can understand. Y'see, when I first got to the South, I had trouble finding good jobs due to what can only be called the "Good Ol' Boy Network." (aka: GOBN) Like Hollywood, it wasn't what you knew, but WHO you knew. It took me about 10-15 years to find the right job but then it was like gold. Getting that job was not because I had become a member of the GOBN, but because the number of GOB in business had become diluted with those from out of town in the the intervening years.

Can you recognize a GOB on sight? Probably not and yet you probably know a few or know OF a few GOBs yourself. When you drive through a small town, there are always a few guys sitting outside on a few chairs, watching the world go by. These are good ol boys. And a few of our celebrities are also GOBs. Waylon and Willie are Good Ol' Boys. Bill Clinton is a Good Ol' Boy. GW Bush not so much., George "Goober" Lindsey is a GOB and, of course, them Duke Brothers ("The Dukes of Hazzard") are Good Ol' Boys. (Not them Wanna Bee posers in the movie, I'm talking about the originals in the TV Show.)

It's ok that you can't pick them out of a lineup. I've lived in the south nearly half my life and I still can't easily discern them in a crowd. Maybe, one day, I can actually BE one of the Good Ol' Boys.

Rain is Never an Inconvenience in the South

Although I have lived over 20 years in the South, I still do NOT have the Suthun Mentality that my neighbors have. When it rains, I want to stay inside, where it's warm and dry and I can keep away from the growing armada of mosquitoes standing vigil just outside my door. The True Suthuna makes lemonade. You know, like the old adage, when life rains lemons down on you, make lemonade or something like that.

What I love about this photo is threefold.
1) It's raining. Raining so much, in fact, that the local river has apparently jumped its banks. But the part I like is that to protect the truck, the Intelligent Suthunah has driven it up the front steps, thus the engine is out of the water, and sits high and dry.

2) While waiting out the flood, the Suthun Gentlemen are fishing off the front porch. Fishing and being suthun go hand in hand. Suthunaz spend a lot of time and energy getting out to their favorite fishing hole and well, when the fish are in your front yard, that doesn't mean you should ignore the opportunity.

3) But the real reason I like this shot so much is that it happened on College Street. Ah yes, one of my favorite classes here, Suthun Thinking 101.