Thoughts over Breakfast
Posted by jdtaylor on February 10, 2013
I was sitting at the dining table drinking coffee, while mom cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. I was looking out the window and watched the gentle waves in the Bon Secour river and the gentle sway of the Spanish moss draping the giant oaks. There was probably a storm coming. The air felt moist and the sky was dark. A shrimp boat was heading out and the crew was hustling on deck getting ready for the day. Mom says that, because of the economy and added pressure from Obama’s newest environmental regulations, shrimping has all but stopped and a boat heading out has become a very rare thing. I watch the crew work as they go around the bend… Mom breaks my concentration, “Hey, have you seen the bag of grits I can’t find the grits?” Startled, “uh… no, I haven’t seen any grits. You mean you only have one bag of grits… and now you lost it? Oh, that’s bad. I would think you would have several… I mean, with only one bag in storage, what on earth would are you to do when the Apocalypse comes? What would you barter with?” Mom gave frowned, “I think you’ve been spending too much time with your cousin Martin.” I thought about it, “I’ll just sit over here and read the paper until breakfast is ready.”
I pulled the rubber band from the Mobile Press Register to get some Alabama news. I browsed through the headlines and the comics. Once I got to the advice page I figured that Alabama advice was just a little different. Here’s the first listing;
Dear Dr. Vern, Last weekend, on the promise of getting a fifth of Jack, I helped my worthless brother-in-law replace the tranny in his 72′ Nova. Later that day, he came over with a half rack of lite beer and something called White Zinfandel, (only it wasn’t white, it was sissy pink). I yelled at him, told him to never come back. Was I right to act this way? Should I have accepted the beer and wine? I assume they got alcohol in them.
Dear Clyde, Yeah, they got alcohol in ‘em, but only enough to get Ashton Kutcher hammered. And most folks say if you drink ‘em, you’ll go weird and start talking about Julie Andrews movies. See, if you’re in a bar and you’re ordering lite beer, you might as well be saying, “I enjoy wearing women’s undergarments and could you please turn the big screen to soccer.” I could go on about what you call your sociological implications, but the short of it is, lite beer’s for guys who cried during Sleepless in Seattle. As far as the Zinfandel, it’s obviously Europe-sounding, where nobody can even clean their own fish.
I’m figuring you gotta get this guy away from your sister, before they get to reproducing. The guy probably can’t even punch a school administrator. You don’t want your nephew getting some poor role modeling.
From Dr. Vern Edstrom, Esq. (White Trash Etiquette)