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.

Rain, Rain Go Away!

Weather in the South. It's one of main reasons people come to the South. While everyone north of the Mason-Dixon is still reeling from yet another snow storm, the South is experiencing Spring. By that I mean the three stages of Spring Weather, namely: Rain, Rain and yes, Rain.

Beginning in March, and not ending til nearly Summer, the South gets rain in regular increments. By the time the last rain has dried, we're getting drenched by yet another storm. Ok, for the most part, they are just your usual Spring Showers, but being at the end of 'Tornado Alley' also means storms that can produce severe weather, including the aforementioned tornadoes. Back in 1998, Nashville had a huge tornado tear across the city causing untold damage.

The real problem with the rains is not the tornadoes, however. It's the moisture itself. A simple leak, left unknown, can give you mold, rust, rot, and all manner of related woes. Each one of these means that the homeowner now has their hands full getting rid of or fixing said woes. Add to that the fact that the rain makes things grow and grow fast, and Summer cannot get her fast enough.

In truth, we only get about 2 weeks of actual spring. Lovely spring like days of mild temperatures and easy breezes before WHAM, the heat and humidity of Summer slam into the South like a fat locomotive. It's these lovely two weeks that I live for. Those days when I can walk in the sunshine, ride a bike and even open the windows in the house allowing those gentle breezes scented with Honeysuckle and kudzu to waft lazily across the transom.

These are truly the best days to live in the South.

The General Lee

With few exceptions, no other vehicle is more associated with the Suthun mentality, its heart and soul (or is it sole? with a Suthunah, one can never tell), than the General Lee. For the uninitiated, the General Lee is a 1968 (and 1969) model Dodge Charger painted ‘Bad Ass Orange’ (that is the actual name of the paint, according to the Manufacturer) and used in the televised saga known as “The Dukes of Hazzard”. This is the ongoing story of a couple of good ol’ boys trying their best NOT to run afoul of the somewhat overbearing and shady local law. The General Lee is also known for jumping incredible heights and objects as a matter of course.


There is something about the ‘local boys’ trying their best to get ahead even in the face of adversity which speaks to us all, including them Nawthunaz. It is the spirit which made our country great and a spirit which will continue to do so.

There are over 320 ‘General Lee’ automobiles out there. That’s the number of cars used during the shows run, and does not count the 24 cars used in making the big budget movie. Most of these cars are owned by collectors, restored to their Suthun gentility with loving hands. Most, if not all, of the General Lee Chargers sport the Confederate Battle Flag across the top. Included as a sort of homage to southern upstarts of eras gone by is the Southern Battle Flag across the hood.

There are many people who think that the paint job itself is enough to make a ‘General Lee’ car, but make no mistake, these are impostors and poseurs! Most notable of these are:

I'd hate to see this one jump anything more than a pothole...


It's easy to tell some poseurs, such as this one, I think it's in the paint color, but i'm not sure.

Hey, Y'all! Watch This!

For some reason, heretofore unknown, the Suthunah has needed to try the untried. To do the undone. To...well, make a fool of himself in attempting the impossible. Now, on the surface this is a noble thought. To extend ones self beyond the known, to take the dare, to prove to the world if not just to ones self that something can be done and done well.

Unfortunately, this is not always the case. Probably because copious amounts of non-light beer are involved in these rash decisions. Probably because the challenge involves laying on a burning sofa while some other inebriated sole attempts to take your picture with a camera phone. It fairly boggles the mind.

I mean, let's examine the situation. Why is there a burning sofa? Why is no one putting out the sofa fire? If the sofa is meant to burn, as in a bonfire, why was it lit only once or twice at the top instead of, say...the bottom? What sort of personal challenge is there in laying on a burning sofa? Is he attempting to set some sort of record? Ah, now we have it...in his hand...yeah, beer.

It comes as no surprise to me, the Suthun Wanna-be. Just this last weekend, I attempted to carry an 80 lb piece of equipment from the car to the house. I got up the three steps to the door and found the unwieldy piece off kilter and soon it was cascading down the front steps, pulling me along with it. Yes, my brain was screaming "Let go let go, you foole, you foole!*" but that didn't seem to have any effect.

My body was pulled airborne by the heavy box, and I landed on the corner square in the small of my back, and rolled to the ground where my thoughts were more to the case of "PAIN! PAIN!" All I could guess was that I had broken my back. And miraculously, no beer was involved in this altercation.

My back is fine, just a bit swollen. And the irony of the fact that I was carrying EXERCISE equipment is not lost on me. Was I daring the dare? No comment. Did I have something to prove? No comment. Was I being simply a Suthunah with hopes and dreams of grandeur? Gee, isn't that what this blog is all about?

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*yes, Foole, with the requisite extra "e" to give a higher degree of difficulty to this stupid foolish act.

Spring is in the air, and on the front lawn.

There was a time when I wanted to buy an automobile junkyard in some northern territory just to rename it "Southern Lawn Ornaments." I think I could charge a higher price for them too.

Suthunas love to work on their cars. It almost seems as if they enjoy this more than their Nawthun counterparts, but I have no real proof, other than a growing sense of pride in being one of the 'good ol' boys.' What makes Suthunaz interesting is that a car can be up on blocks and "in repair" for years. Worse, this auto or perhaps "sculpture," sits on the front lawn for all to see. Unsightly? Yes.. Uniquely Suthun? Oh heck yes.

For the longest time I had an old Honda Accord in my car port up on blocks. I kept saying I'd get it repaired sometime soon but the weeks turned into eons. I finally gave the car away just to clear out some space. Ok, so the city also had a new ordinance that any car on your property, running or not, had to be licensed. I wasn't bout to pay $50 to license a broken down old Honda so I gave it away. (Total value: about $1.95)

I'm glad to have the carport back, now I just have to evict the spiders and throw out more junk. It's gonna be a long summer.