*The Seven of Spades*
Note: This was written over the course of Sunday through today, so you will have to forgive it if it sounds a bit jumbled up...
Right now, the Grammy awards are on television. I find this show to be a complete waste of time, much like all other award shows. Except for the Oscars because the Oscars actually award talent every now and then, except for Quentin Tarantino.
Matthew McConaughey just introduced Lynyrd Skynyrd onto stage with Gretchen Wilson. Oh goodness, I’m going to want to shoot myself by the end of the performance. I’ve always thought that Lynyrd Skynyrd, after Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines, Cassie Gains, and Dean Kilpatrick, the band has and never will be the same. So I decided instead of watching a melody of Southern Rock, I would watch the Blue Collar Rides Again premiere on Comedy Central.
And then, it hit me: I am such a southern boy. I might be more cultured than other southerners, and even that’s a bit of a stretch and narcissistic, but still I am southern. I am the epitome of southern living. I have a truck that I just sold, and bought a four wheel drive Jeep Cherokee. (Really, I’m in the process of buying it, I haven’t officially gotten it.) I own a camouflage Auburn hat, and a shrine to Elvis in my room. Goodness fucking gracious, can I be any more southern than that?
Frankly, I’ve done worse. I’m a former card carrying member of the Future Farmers of America. (Note: That is one of those long stories that takes a lot of explanation…) I’ve been mudding in my former truck, got it stuck and had to be pulled out with two straps and a tow chain. If I were less southern, I wouldn’t even know what a tow strap is, or even how the physics of one works on a metal frame.
Seriously though, I think that if I were from the north, or the west, or Canada, or Europe, or Japan, or South America, I wouldn’t be the same person at all. I feel as though I’m a better person in some way for being where I’m from, and it defines me in some ways.
I’m still not watching the Grammy’s. I hate award shows, mostly because the awards are handed out by pretentious jerk-off’s who don’t know talent from a hole in the wall. So thus, I don’t like to watch them. However, I do know who won the next day, because that is normally the music that I immediately decide sucks. So, now that I know that Gretchen Wilson doesn’t suck, and Loretta Lynn does. However, some of the nominees, like for instance Franz Ferdinand and Modest Mouse are cool, and I enjoy their music a lot.
So what does my southern persuasion and the Grammy’s have to do with each other? Well, it is all about southern rock. At least, that’s what I think it is about, and how southern rock bridged the gap between my like of that particular music and my current trend in music. Let me put it into perspective: I still love old Lynyrd Skynyrd, but not enough to listen to it constantly. However, Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand, The Zutons, and Razorlight (Golden Touch is a good song) are people I will listen to right now until my brain explodes. Then I’ll move on and find something new. And it will be good, very good, or else my brain will continue to mushroom like an atomic weapon does after landing on Hiroshima.
I’m confused about one thing though; the one similarity between the Grammy’s and my southern heritage. It’s the damn way everyone is so polite to each other, it drives me nuts. I mean, really, how polite can one person be when they only have a minute and a half to get up on stage (doesn’t take that long, really) and then thank everyone who “helped” them along the way. The one person who wasn’t too polite was Loretta Lynn, and she was trying to get, fuck, I think it was Jack White, to come up on stage with her. This was an insane thing for Loretta to do. The guy was wearing something even Elvis Pressley himself wouldn’t wear in his later years. But she wasn’t polite about it, and called him out completely. All I have to say is “nuts, freakin’ nuts.”
* * *
When I was growing up, for a while I lived in Ringgold, Georgia. It’s outside of Chattanooga, a little suburb with a ball park, and churches, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants and woods. Everything was spread out though, so that the world had a nice even distribution to it. One time I was in the woods by myself on a Saturday, a few months before we would leave the place forever.
So I’m walking around, avoiding the cow piles that are the landmines of childhood, and was playing cowboys by myself. When I saw a bull. Or, at the time, I thought it was a bull. He was a very big bull, and I was a very small child. And I was wearing a red cowboy shirt. While my choice of fashion didn’t really impact the bull at all, I stood still and just sort of tried to back away slowly. And I did, and then I ran to another place in the woods.
And you know what, now that I think about it, I was looking at a cow. Damn, was I a stupid little kid or what?
Those weren’t the only good times I had in the woods, or my sister. Or my friends who lived up the street. We all enjoyed the wood thoroughly. In fact, we enjoyed them so much that sometimes we would get in trouble for staying in the woods too long. And my parents were always worried about us getting ticks or poison ivy or snake bites. In fact, the worst thing that ever happened was my friend Brandon Robinson and I were up at his house, in his woods, and we found a hornet’s nest. And the hornets followed us into his house and bit his mom on the top of the head.
Those were the times that defined my southern lifestyle now. I still enjoy going into the woods, with blue jeans and boots. Hiking, or cutting down something, or burning something, it doesn’t matter to me. I enjoy the hell out of being in the woods. And I also enjoy the hell out of a lot of southern traditions. For instance, something so completely southern the only people who might come close to understanding are Michigan-Ohio State fans.
The Auburn-Alabama Rivalry. It has been going since 1893, except for the 40 years that both Auburn and Alabama didn’t play each other in any sport. The series was renewed in 1948 with an Alabama victory, but it would be that both teams for the rest of the century would have its glory days. There has been one specific game that everyone remembers, even I have seen on ESPN Classic once, and that is the “Punt Bama, Punt” game in 1972. My Dad, of all people, remembers the game down to the minute detail. At least, that’s what he told us. He has a tendency to be a bit over exaggerated sometimes. Which is the pot calling the kettle black, but eh, whatever.
My point about all this, before I went on a rant, is that this is the premiere southern tradition in November. That is, this happens in Alabama. However, it is a wildly known tradition, and it is generally a nationally televised game. Everyone in the south has an opinion on who will win, who has done better this season and who hasn’t, what strategies each coach might try to employ, and so on. It will continue down to the final second of the game if you’re watching it on TV. If you’re in the stands in beautiful Auburn, Alabama, then you’re a lucky person. Tickets are hard as hell to get.
I think there are some things I don’t like about being southern. For instance, the fact that we are looked down upon as not equal to people from other states. They think we’re all a bunch of dumb hicks when they come down here. My job is the perfect example of where I see this all the time. You see, people tell me I don’t have an accent after I tell them where I’m originally from. And I say, well, I’ve never noticed anything different. So thus, I must just be like every other southerner. I say ‘ya’ll’ and ‘whatchamacallit’ and other words that don’t exist. Yet, it seems I am a rare beast. A southern boy without the incredibly deep accent and that is something you don’t find often. But then, I realize that fair amount of people are being transported from the north and growing up in the south, and that the accent doesn’t ever change. I’m not a child of the north though, so I wonder how I am such an oddity sometimes.
* * *
What does it mean to be southern, you might ask yourself. Does it mean that we all share a common region, one not tied down by the differences of states, or is it simply a state of mind? I like to think it’s both, that as a region, we tend to have more in common than say, those of the Northeast. And our experiences in life are generally more particular to our region than any other place in the United States. (Note: I say this because who in California really goes mudding. Do mud puddles even exist in that state? I don’t think so, unless you count a mudslide. Which I don’t.)
We share a common state of mind like no other people though. The practices and mannerisms of the south are particular to our region. Where else do you see people shuffling down the street on a Sunday afternoon without a care in the world? I’ve been to New York City, and walking fast is a state of mind. Everyone is so busy everywhere else, and no one really relaxes much. I may seem stereotypical here, but I am trying to make a point: in some instances, the south is much more relaxed.
As a region, we are relaxed except for one thing: religion. Religion in the south is not only a state of mind; it is also a very consistent and overbearing part of life. You are either religious or unreligious; there is no middle ground it seems. There are a lot of C&E Christians in my generation, but every other person I know has clearly defined their stance on religion here. And there are a large scattering of churches in the south, from Baptist to Church of God and everything else in between.
I myself am unreligious, and thus I am in a growing minority of persons from the south. However, I find myself sometimes overwhelmed by the sheer amount of peers in southern peoples that believe so blindly, they question everything I say and never listen. It is just the way people live down here that makes them so blind to even the slightest of ways other people live. I fear sometimes that I’ll end up living like them, so blind to what might be the truth that I am unable to accept it. Which is why I believe in something, but it isn’t God. I can’t truly explain why I have no faith, other than that it is just what I believe and nothing else.
* * *
Back to my original point of why I hate award shows. Mainly it is because good talent is always squandered away at these events, and people who truly deserve the awards are forgotten. But there are bands, actors, and movies that should have won academy awards that didn’t, and the bands, actors and movies that shouldn’t. The perfect example of this is The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King directed by Peter Jackson, which won 11 academy awards last year. Why did it win so many? Because inevitably people buy into the whole “major motion picture is art” thing. Return of the King was a good movie, but I don’t think it was art. In fact, it really wasn’t much of anything other than a blockbuster success. And because it won so many awards, I find the whole thing to be quite despicable. The movie that should have won best film was Lost in Translation directed by Sofia Coppola, the daughter of famous director Francis Ford Coppola.
There is such a thing as karma when issues like this happen, and I feel that karma will eventually come around on the awards ceremonies. Their will be an outcry and mashing of teeth and screaming of children when people who actually deserved the award didn’t win. It’ll happen one year, I’m sure of it.
Right now, the Grammy awards are on television. I find this show to be a complete waste of time, much like all other award shows. Except for the Oscars because the Oscars actually award talent every now and then, except for Quentin Tarantino.
Matthew McConaughey just introduced Lynyrd Skynyrd onto stage with Gretchen Wilson. Oh goodness, I’m going to want to shoot myself by the end of the performance. I’ve always thought that Lynyrd Skynyrd, after Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines, Cassie Gains, and Dean Kilpatrick, the band has and never will be the same. So I decided instead of watching a melody of Southern Rock, I would watch the Blue Collar Rides Again premiere on Comedy Central.
And then, it hit me: I am such a southern boy. I might be more cultured than other southerners, and even that’s a bit of a stretch and narcissistic, but still I am southern. I am the epitome of southern living. I have a truck that I just sold, and bought a four wheel drive Jeep Cherokee. (Really, I’m in the process of buying it, I haven’t officially gotten it.) I own a camouflage Auburn hat, and a shrine to Elvis in my room. Goodness fucking gracious, can I be any more southern than that?
Frankly, I’ve done worse. I’m a former card carrying member of the Future Farmers of America. (Note: That is one of those long stories that takes a lot of explanation…) I’ve been mudding in my former truck, got it stuck and had to be pulled out with two straps and a tow chain. If I were less southern, I wouldn’t even know what a tow strap is, or even how the physics of one works on a metal frame.
Seriously though, I think that if I were from the north, or the west, or Canada, or Europe, or Japan, or South America, I wouldn’t be the same person at all. I feel as though I’m a better person in some way for being where I’m from, and it defines me in some ways.
I’m still not watching the Grammy’s. I hate award shows, mostly because the awards are handed out by pretentious jerk-off’s who don’t know talent from a hole in the wall. So thus, I don’t like to watch them. However, I do know who won the next day, because that is normally the music that I immediately decide sucks. So, now that I know that Gretchen Wilson doesn’t suck, and Loretta Lynn does. However, some of the nominees, like for instance Franz Ferdinand and Modest Mouse are cool, and I enjoy their music a lot.
So what does my southern persuasion and the Grammy’s have to do with each other? Well, it is all about southern rock. At least, that’s what I think it is about, and how southern rock bridged the gap between my like of that particular music and my current trend in music. Let me put it into perspective: I still love old Lynyrd Skynyrd, but not enough to listen to it constantly. However, Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand, The Zutons, and Razorlight (Golden Touch is a good song) are people I will listen to right now until my brain explodes. Then I’ll move on and find something new. And it will be good, very good, or else my brain will continue to mushroom like an atomic weapon does after landing on Hiroshima.
I’m confused about one thing though; the one similarity between the Grammy’s and my southern heritage. It’s the damn way everyone is so polite to each other, it drives me nuts. I mean, really, how polite can one person be when they only have a minute and a half to get up on stage (doesn’t take that long, really) and then thank everyone who “helped” them along the way. The one person who wasn’t too polite was Loretta Lynn, and she was trying to get, fuck, I think it was Jack White, to come up on stage with her. This was an insane thing for Loretta to do. The guy was wearing something even Elvis Pressley himself wouldn’t wear in his later years. But she wasn’t polite about it, and called him out completely. All I have to say is “nuts, freakin’ nuts.”
* * *
When I was growing up, for a while I lived in Ringgold, Georgia. It’s outside of Chattanooga, a little suburb with a ball park, and churches, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants and woods. Everything was spread out though, so that the world had a nice even distribution to it. One time I was in the woods by myself on a Saturday, a few months before we would leave the place forever.
So I’m walking around, avoiding the cow piles that are the landmines of childhood, and was playing cowboys by myself. When I saw a bull. Or, at the time, I thought it was a bull. He was a very big bull, and I was a very small child. And I was wearing a red cowboy shirt. While my choice of fashion didn’t really impact the bull at all, I stood still and just sort of tried to back away slowly. And I did, and then I ran to another place in the woods.
And you know what, now that I think about it, I was looking at a cow. Damn, was I a stupid little kid or what?
Those weren’t the only good times I had in the woods, or my sister. Or my friends who lived up the street. We all enjoyed the wood thoroughly. In fact, we enjoyed them so much that sometimes we would get in trouble for staying in the woods too long. And my parents were always worried about us getting ticks or poison ivy or snake bites. In fact, the worst thing that ever happened was my friend Brandon Robinson and I were up at his house, in his woods, and we found a hornet’s nest. And the hornets followed us into his house and bit his mom on the top of the head.
Those were the times that defined my southern lifestyle now. I still enjoy going into the woods, with blue jeans and boots. Hiking, or cutting down something, or burning something, it doesn’t matter to me. I enjoy the hell out of being in the woods. And I also enjoy the hell out of a lot of southern traditions. For instance, something so completely southern the only people who might come close to understanding are Michigan-Ohio State fans.
The Auburn-Alabama Rivalry. It has been going since 1893, except for the 40 years that both Auburn and Alabama didn’t play each other in any sport. The series was renewed in 1948 with an Alabama victory, but it would be that both teams for the rest of the century would have its glory days. There has been one specific game that everyone remembers, even I have seen on ESPN Classic once, and that is the “Punt Bama, Punt” game in 1972. My Dad, of all people, remembers the game down to the minute detail. At least, that’s what he told us. He has a tendency to be a bit over exaggerated sometimes. Which is the pot calling the kettle black, but eh, whatever.
My point about all this, before I went on a rant, is that this is the premiere southern tradition in November. That is, this happens in Alabama. However, it is a wildly known tradition, and it is generally a nationally televised game. Everyone in the south has an opinion on who will win, who has done better this season and who hasn’t, what strategies each coach might try to employ, and so on. It will continue down to the final second of the game if you’re watching it on TV. If you’re in the stands in beautiful Auburn, Alabama, then you’re a lucky person. Tickets are hard as hell to get.
I think there are some things I don’t like about being southern. For instance, the fact that we are looked down upon as not equal to people from other states. They think we’re all a bunch of dumb hicks when they come down here. My job is the perfect example of where I see this all the time. You see, people tell me I don’t have an accent after I tell them where I’m originally from. And I say, well, I’ve never noticed anything different. So thus, I must just be like every other southerner. I say ‘ya’ll’ and ‘whatchamacallit’ and other words that don’t exist. Yet, it seems I am a rare beast. A southern boy without the incredibly deep accent and that is something you don’t find often. But then, I realize that fair amount of people are being transported from the north and growing up in the south, and that the accent doesn’t ever change. I’m not a child of the north though, so I wonder how I am such an oddity sometimes.
* * *
What does it mean to be southern, you might ask yourself. Does it mean that we all share a common region, one not tied down by the differences of states, or is it simply a state of mind? I like to think it’s both, that as a region, we tend to have more in common than say, those of the Northeast. And our experiences in life are generally more particular to our region than any other place in the United States. (Note: I say this because who in California really goes mudding. Do mud puddles even exist in that state? I don’t think so, unless you count a mudslide. Which I don’t.)
We share a common state of mind like no other people though. The practices and mannerisms of the south are particular to our region. Where else do you see people shuffling down the street on a Sunday afternoon without a care in the world? I’ve been to New York City, and walking fast is a state of mind. Everyone is so busy everywhere else, and no one really relaxes much. I may seem stereotypical here, but I am trying to make a point: in some instances, the south is much more relaxed.
As a region, we are relaxed except for one thing: religion. Religion in the south is not only a state of mind; it is also a very consistent and overbearing part of life. You are either religious or unreligious; there is no middle ground it seems. There are a lot of C&E Christians in my generation, but every other person I know has clearly defined their stance on religion here. And there are a large scattering of churches in the south, from Baptist to Church of God and everything else in between.
I myself am unreligious, and thus I am in a growing minority of persons from the south. However, I find myself sometimes overwhelmed by the sheer amount of peers in southern peoples that believe so blindly, they question everything I say and never listen. It is just the way people live down here that makes them so blind to even the slightest of ways other people live. I fear sometimes that I’ll end up living like them, so blind to what might be the truth that I am unable to accept it. Which is why I believe in something, but it isn’t God. I can’t truly explain why I have no faith, other than that it is just what I believe and nothing else.
* * *
Back to my original point of why I hate award shows. Mainly it is because good talent is always squandered away at these events, and people who truly deserve the awards are forgotten. But there are bands, actors, and movies that should have won academy awards that didn’t, and the bands, actors and movies that shouldn’t. The perfect example of this is The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King directed by Peter Jackson, which won 11 academy awards last year. Why did it win so many? Because inevitably people buy into the whole “major motion picture is art” thing. Return of the King was a good movie, but I don’t think it was art. In fact, it really wasn’t much of anything other than a blockbuster success. And because it won so many awards, I find the whole thing to be quite despicable. The movie that should have won best film was Lost in Translation directed by Sofia Coppola, the daughter of famous director Francis Ford Coppola.
There is such a thing as karma when issues like this happen, and I feel that karma will eventually come around on the awards ceremonies. Their will be an outcry and mashing of teeth and screaming of children when people who actually deserved the award didn’t win. It’ll happen one year, I’m sure of it.