There's something satisfying about a demographic that cheerfully and charmingly fulfills my stereotypical expectations in all the right ways. Every summer as we wend our way down to Alabama, I'm unsettled by a secret fear that maybe this will be the year they smack their foreheads and realize they're not doing their image any favors by keeping "Walker: Texas Ranger" on the TV at their filling stations. You just can't beat walking into a gas station and finding, in addition to the generous helpings of Chuck Norris, boiled peanuts by the cup (in cajun, mesquite, and original flavors), glass-bottled Coca-Cola (pronounced Co-Cola), Baptist baseball caps and night-crawlers. Now, understand I, as a former Georgia boy, mean all this in the best way. I say I can admire a population that can watch the rest of the world try on fauxhawks and skinny jeans and just smile. What if southerners suddenly decided to be offended by that Foxworthy fellow? If they traded their fried pickles 'n' catfish for sushi, and fishin' poles for skateboards? It'd be an American tragedy, for sure. So Roll Tide.
7.20.2008
Alabammy
Here's a great billboard we saw on the way to Leesburg, AL. I'm covering up part of it with my thumb (not a brontosaurus). Actually, I guess it's a normal billboard until your sister Amy suggests you replace "trailers" with "girlfriends." Then it's great.
There's something satisfying about a demographic that cheerfully and charmingly fulfills my stereotypical expectations in all the right ways. Every summer as we wend our way down to Alabama, I'm unsettled by a secret fear that maybe this will be the year they smack their foreheads and realize they're not doing their image any favors by keeping "Walker: Texas Ranger" on the TV at their filling stations. You just can't beat walking into a gas station and finding, in addition to the generous helpings of Chuck Norris, boiled peanuts by the cup (in cajun, mesquite, and original flavors), glass-bottled Coca-Cola (pronounced Co-Cola), Baptist baseball caps and night-crawlers. Now, understand I, as a former Georgia boy, mean all this in the best way. I say I can admire a population that can watch the rest of the world try on fauxhawks and skinny jeans and just smile. What if southerners suddenly decided to be offended by that Foxworthy fellow? If they traded their fried pickles 'n' catfish for sushi, and fishin' poles for skateboards? It'd be an American tragedy, for sure. So Roll Tide.
There's something satisfying about a demographic that cheerfully and charmingly fulfills my stereotypical expectations in all the right ways. Every summer as we wend our way down to Alabama, I'm unsettled by a secret fear that maybe this will be the year they smack their foreheads and realize they're not doing their image any favors by keeping "Walker: Texas Ranger" on the TV at their filling stations. You just can't beat walking into a gas station and finding, in addition to the generous helpings of Chuck Norris, boiled peanuts by the cup (in cajun, mesquite, and original flavors), glass-bottled Coca-Cola (pronounced Co-Cola), Baptist baseball caps and night-crawlers. Now, understand I, as a former Georgia boy, mean all this in the best way. I say I can admire a population that can watch the rest of the world try on fauxhawks and skinny jeans and just smile. What if southerners suddenly decided to be offended by that Foxworthy fellow? If they traded their fried pickles 'n' catfish for sushi, and fishin' poles for skateboards? It'd be an American tragedy, for sure. So Roll Tide.
