The West Virginia Chronicles, vol. 2: Bad Rap/The Gilligan Connection

West Virginia is the butt of many a redneck joke. Personally, I don’t see it. Those stereotypes are based on dispatches to newspapers in New York, Philadelphia and Cleveland a century ago when field reporters were covering labor skirmishes and family feuds for sensational headlines. Besides, for my money, people in Maine and Upstate New York know a whole hell of a lot more about being redneck than Mountaineers do.

Still, West Virginia’s reputation for being weird is not fully unwarranted. Astronomically fucked-up things happen there regularly–things that sound like Onion stories that were somehow picked up by legitimate news agencies that weren’t paying attention. For instance, Gilligan used to live in WV–or, Bob Denver, the guy we know as Gilligan, anyway. Yes, after the wild success of Gilligan’s Island and Dobie Gillis, he settled near Princeton and started a computer business and radio station.

Now here’s where the weirdness comes in. A few years back, Gilligan went sideways of the law.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

 Before we get into Soy’s post, go vote for our good friend Laurie Kendrick at weblogawards.  There is no signup, just a click and you’re done. -bagel

I wrote this a few months before I joined Ration Reality. The events happenned on a warm, spring day, rather than a chilly autumn one. I hope you enjoy this little slice of my existence.

Though I’m in my third decade on this earth, I basically live the same way that I did in college. I don’t say this as a point of pride–more like a resignation to the fact that my home is pretty messy, I tend to eat my meals off of napkins with plastic utensils hijacked from fast food eateries and view sleep as an enemy, using all available resources to cheat it. Last night, when any normal person would have been slumbering, I was up chatting with a good friend, playing my bass guitar, annoying my wife, grooming my cat and laughing my ass off to some obscure British television program – largely at the same time! Do I realize that it’s abnormal? Of course. “Abnormal” pretty much describes my life as a whole, I suppose.

To complicate things (so to speak), I’ve lived in a big, beige suburban “planned community” for about 6 years now. When I got married, my wife moved here with me. For the sake of my family’s privacy, I won’t reveal the pretentious name of my subdivision. Instead, I will substitute my own, more appropriate name. How about “Aryan Acres” or “Flight Path Estates”? Whatever the name, one need only look at the big, honkin’ SUVs and shiny German sedans parked in front of the townhomes here to see that my neighbors are living the suburban lifestyle to which they aspire. To their great credit, they’ve put up with our 10 year-old, cosmetically-challenged vehicles, loudmouthed (if loveable) mutt of a dog and overall bohemian lifestyle. These days, most neighbors don’t even give a second glance when they see me sporting a dog chain collar and green hair while wheeling out a massive guitar cabinet to my truck. As long as I don’t actually play through that cabinet in my home, they don’t mind. God bless them.

Well, for one new arrival, the welcome to our cozy suburban existence was a bit more jarring than my own.

The West Virginia Chronicles, Vol. 1: Defeated by WV

It’s a small, intriguing territory known for coal, chemicals, college football, skiing, rafting and killer cannabis. I’m talking about West Virginia. Some of you may have driven through Charleston and seen the office towers and gold-leaf dome on the state capital building. Some of you may live in the peaceful, largely-affluent D. C. suburbs around Martinsburg. Some of you may have saved up for a getaway at the four-star Greenbrier resort. These areas of the state are largely-progressive, economically-viable and diversified. They have decent schools, well-surfaced roads and, most importantly, hope. But the lower coalfields, which begin in the southeastern suburbs of Charleston and go right down to the Kentucky and Virginia state lines, are quite a different story…and it’s a story I know well.

Prostitution Solution

After some heated discussions in the opium smoke-filled backrooms of Ration Reality Inc., it was determined that I should  solicit some prostitutes, “test drive them” and return to the nest report in hand. I was given a 10 gallon water jug filled with Bagel and Ape’s loose change from the last 5 years (how was it not spent on crack? Ah, sweet, sweet crack…) and promised bail money if I was picked up by the PO-lease. I am carless at the moment so I borrowed my Uncle’s banana custard colored ’82 Cadillac El Dorado, you know, to blend in.

Books that exist

A list of 6 books I’d read, if I read books.
These are linked up to Amazon, where sample chapters are available free for many of them.

White Trash Etiquette: The Definitive Guide to Upscale Trailer Park Manners White Trash Etiquette contains everything you need to know to live like decent trash, including: The proper way to fake a back injury How to prevent your in-laws from stealing the silverware at wedding receptions The Ten Hottest White Trash Career Opportunities How to improve your drunk-driving skills Sound advice on everything from lying to your boss to making your next convenience-store robbery fun for the whole family There’s also troubleshooting for troublemakers: I’m getting married; can I still wear white if I’m a tramp? Can chicks ever really respect an accountant? How do I pick a good bail bondsman? How can I get my 14-year-old cousin unpregnant? And much more.

The Art of Auto-fellatio: Oral Sex for One The ultimate in safe sex — self-performed oral pleasure at any hour of the day! If you’ve ever dreamed about this practice, this book can make your fantasy a reality.  It’s both a fascinating examination of social perceptions and cultural mores, and a guide to specifics. The response to Gary Griffin’s first groundbreaking book, Penis Enlargement Methods: Fact and Phallusy was so enthusiastic that his readers asked for more, prompting research in other related areas. This eventually resulted in a complete catalog of thirteen books. The goal is to take the mystery and taboo out of male sexuality and to help every man by providing factual information about his body and its function. As the Executive Director of the American Academy of Phalloplasty Surgeons, Gary Griffin witnessed an amazing increase in interest in the subject of male sexuality that shows no signs of abating.