We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
We missed this piece from Vanderleun, which begins:
The Asheville, North Carolina restaurant was one of those common to our post-post-modern world. Open and airy with a wall of windows framing hanging plants. Casual to the point of paper napkins. Sporting a list of local beers and -- surprise -- local wines. Tarted up with the kind of overtly ironic art on the walls where the painter has one statement and one image in his repertoire and repeats it ad nauseam. This time it seemed that the sensibility being trotted out was one of Hieronymous Bosch meets Hello Kitty.
North Carolina is a gem of a place, from the beach music of the pier at Atlantic Beach to the mountains of Asheville and the Appellation mountains and the Appellation Trail. But Asheville is citified so on one trip where the wife and I were going on the Trail for a few days we chose Elizabethton as our base camp.
Now Iíve lived in the South more than half my life. My entire family is from the South. I graduated from a high school in North Carolina so you could say Iím familiar with the region. But one evening we decided to have some pizza at the local Pizza Hut. It was full of the locals. Elizabethton is not a touristy place. We order our pizza and then by simple sound our ears were drawn to the conversation in the booth next to ours. These four guys in their late twenties we talking up a storm but neither my wife nor I could recognize a word.. Pretty soon we picked out Ernhardt, and then racing, so we started listening closer. It was still unintelligible but a hoot to try and decipher.
If this country ever needs code talkers again Iíd tell the DOD to get on up to Elizabethton, pronto.