I’m sure I’ve mentioned somewhere in previous posts that I’m a New Englander, but unless you’re from here you can’t really comprehend the significance of that statement. New Englanders wear their citizenship like a badge of honor, defining ourselves not by our individual states but by our geographical region, much the same way someone from Scotland or Ireland would define themselves by their family, or clan.
So to help all of you southern, inland and west coasters out there understand the Clan New England, I’m going to break it down with a metaphorical example. Imagine a Thanksgiving day dinner table, and at one end you have:
This is grandpa. He doesn’t do or say much, and he’s been around so long you almost forget he’s there. Oh, and he doesn’t have teeth. Next to him is:
This is the oldest son, the one who went off all gung-ho to Vietnam and came back disillusioned and pissed. He rides a Harley and defends his right to not pay taxes. He’ll school you on the history of any firearm known to man, whether you ask him to or not. When he’s not at Laconia for bike week he’s at a Knights of Columbus meeting. He earns his money either by being a trucker, mechanic or working construction. And his wife is Asian. Always. Next to him is:
No one gets under New Hampshire’s tough leather skin quite like Vermont. Part hippie poser, part Phish fan, all organic NPR listening Vermont. He’s college educated, usually earning a degree in either history or philosophy, which makes him an expert on EVERYTHING. He’ll chastise you for driving anything other than a Prius and is forever preaching the evils of pop culture. The only reason he owns a television is to watch PBS, and he’s married to a girl from:
The oldest daughter of a respectable family, make no mistake she is Vassar bound. When she’s not out shopping for argyle socks she’s sticking a finger down her throat or sneaking out to heavy metal concerts to bang tattooed pretty boys on motorcycles. I’m guessing. Next to her is:
He’s the red-headed step child; New England’s own version of Oliver from the Brady Bunch. Our own personal small ball of “why?” And that leads us to the twins. I say twins because this next state is geographically bipolar. Divided by the city of Worcester (pronounced WOOS-tuh), their personalities are as oppositional as any two children could ever be. And that state is:
The child west of Worcester is the girl twin. She’s well-adjusted and lacking in any definable accent. She knows what she wants and that is to GET THE HELL OUT OF NEW ENGLAND. The twin east of Worcester is the boy twin, the one who calls you at 2 a.m. to come bail him out of jail because he:
A. Gave a Yankees fan a beat down.
B. Defended his position that Manhattan clam chowder is, by definition, not a chowder.
C. Beat someone who said something disparaging about Aerosmith or Godsmack or Denis Leary.
He’s the guy who doesn’t actually live anywhere; he just floats from couch to couch to couch. He borrows your car without your permission, drinks all your beer and steals your stuff. And even though you know he’s going to sleep with your girlfriend you let him in your house anyway because he’s just so damned awesome.
Just like any family we fight and spat amongst ourselves, but heaven help the punk who steps to one of us, because then he steps to all of us. Whitey Bulger wouldn’t be Whitey Bulger if he were from the midwest. Well, maybe Kansas. That place is like the friggin’ Twilight Zone. So the next time you cross the border into New England, roll down your windows and listen carefully; you just might hear our siren song:
Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely restless individual, and that every now and then I’ve got to switch things up. It could be something as easy as driving a different car for a while, or something as epic as painting my bedroom hot pink.
Since I’ve taken on more hours at work, the switching up has been happening at my desk, or more specifically, my desktop, to the amusement of my many co-workers. So for the amusement of you all, I share with you today a gallery of my ever-changing desktop wallpaper.
Ah…yes. The General Lee. My first love.
Next we have two pics that are the perfect marriage of humor and music, Tenacious D. and Dethklok. If you don’t know who they are, I suggest hitting the Google immediately. If you don’t like them, well…we can’t be friends.
Now we have the two greatest bands I’ve ever had the good fortune of hanging out with backstage. Lit and Godsmack. Boys and their tattoos. Dreamy.
Why Lemmy? Because Lemmy is God, that’s why.
Because I can’t download porn.
Next are two pics of my seldom seen daughter, Babygirl. The one above was taken on Halloween when she was two years-old. Her father wanted her to be a princess, but she wanted to be a “basketball boy.” You see who won. (Yes, that is a regulation sized basketball. She was, and still is, very tiny). The one below was taken in our backyard with my nephew. I plan on writing a story just so I can use that pic as a book cover.
Last but not least, for reasons that I cannot begin to comprehend, my all time favorite desktop wallpaper pic ever!!!!!
Doesn’t this pic just say it all?
All across America families are gathered around their tables in celebration of Thanksgiving; a holiday that commemorates the first harvest of 1621 for the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Here in New England, the birthplace of Thanksgiving, we honor our forebears by keeping with the tradition of serving turkey, an indigenous bird to this part of the country.
While many of us view turkey as festive holiday fare, there are some who consider our gesture of patronage murder. There is one who goes so far as to call it genocide. Today’s holiday interview is like no other that’s come before, because today we are conducting our interview in a secret hide-out free from the tyranny of New England’s native carnivores. Today we interview Pro-foul resistance leader, Tom Turkey.
Hello, Tom. Forgive me for sounding trite, but how are you doing?
Eat me – that’s how I’m doing. Oh, I’m doing really well. Gobble gobble and shit. I’ve been soaking in this hot tub all day – it smells great, sort of spicy or something. It’s making me hungry! GAH! Wait a minute…
Without revealing too much information, can you explain what is involved in engineering and maintaining an underground system of foul relocation?
Ah yes, the Undergrain Railroad. Well first, some wild turkeys are helping out with that by disguising some of us with camouflage and leaves. Those guys are poultry in motion. Secondly, we eat nothing but donuts and burgers and Cheetos to ensure that even if we’re caught, we’re too fatty to be palatable.
From what your lieutenants tell me you’ve been able to successfully move over one thousand turkeys out of New England to a Vegan commune somewhere in rural California. What are the logistics involved in such a massive migration, and were there any bumps along the way?
Besides these red things, you mean? HA HA! GOL! (Ed. note: gobble out loud) One word: trains. This country hates trains, so it’s easy to sneak on like a bunch of hobos and ride them all across the country. And when we can’t do trains, we ride bears. That’s right, bears! Grizzlies! In return for eating bugs. They hate bugs.
Have there ever been any close calls?
Yes there have – hunters. Those damned turkey calling things are like a siren song to some of us. Some of us are really fucking stupid, and when they hear one of those things go off, they go running out, and BLAM! Though this one time, one of our boys was able to get someone shot in the face. Hilarious!
And there was that one time when someone got a little smart for her own good, and read a map, and saw this country called… you know. She put the wrong two with the wrong two and got… well, eaten.
What would you like to see the Obama administration do in the form of policies that would make hiding out unnecessary?
Useless, Hellis. Useless. It’s already been tried. Over 200 years ago, we started a grassroots whisper campaign to get Benjamin Franklin to make the turkey the national bird. We would have been set FOREVER! But that idiot ran out in a rain storm and got shocked, and he was never the same. We couldn’t even get him on the ballot. Eventually, he went to France. Yeah, France. I know, right! Gobbledammed eagles swooped up and took the bird prize. They’re endangered, of course, but no one is eating them, are they.
More than just winning sovereignty for the Turkey population, you’ve been quoted as stating you’d like to see the Thanksgiving holiday abolished altogether. What in particular about Thanksgiving (other than turkey consumption) do you find distasteful?
Cranberry sauce. Terrible stuff. Oh, and those hand thingies, where human children trace their hands and pretend they’re turkeys? What the hell – those look nothing like us.
What’s your opinion on Turduken?
Well, I’ve stuffed a duck AND a chicken before, if you know what I’m saying, and I’ve seen ducks and chickens having some fun, but… yeah… this is just sick.
Finally, where do you see yourself in the future?
President of Mars, which will be renamed Turkopolis. It will also be renicknamed The Red Thingie Planet.
“It was an historic election day for the state of New Hampshire. NH has become the first state to elect an all female congressional delegation and governor. Granite State voters selected democrats for all of the top offices. Our four electoral votes have been awarded to President Obama.” – WMUR NEWS
SUCK IT BOYS!!!
Readers, today I have a better-late-than-never interview for you, and of course nature weighed in on this one. Interestingly, I had an interview set up with none other than Christopher Columbus that coincided with Columbus Day, but Hurricane Sandy had a voice in this. Mr. Columbus, welcome!
C.C.: Caio! I mean, hello!
H.E.: There is great debate about what your real motivations were for risking lives to discover the New World. Can you comment on what you were really thinking back there in Spain?
C.C.: I wassa thinking that Isabella was a pretty nice lady. What can I do? My blood, she is Italian.
H.E.: Were there any dangerous points along the way that made you consider turning back?
C.C.: Some of the sailors, they…weren’t lookin’ so good. Some of them even say I looka nice for a man. I think to myself, “Eh, Christoph…you need to find these men some women quick.” I say a little prayer and then boom- we finda land. I’mma one lucky sonafabitch.
H.E.: Rumor has it that you were in fact lost on your first trip, yet you are hailed as a navigational genius. Any comment on that apparent disparity of opinion?
C.C.: Hey…that’s some a pretty bigga words coming from someone who needs a the GPS to find her way out of the shower.
H.E.: You probably also have heard some of the racier rumors about shipboard life involving grog, sodomy and the lash. For a curious world, Chris, sheep or no sheep? Or was this a don’t ask/don’t tell situation?
C.C.: Hey…what’s a matta you? That’s not a polite. I will say this- they don’ta call them a “Seamen” for nothing.
H.E.: Obviously a lot has changed. On that note, America back then, or America now – which do you like better?
C.C.: That’s a easy – America today! They have a holiday justa for me!
H.E.: Okay, so if you had to do it all over again, what would you choose to do differently?
C.C.: Turna left.
H.E.: To wrap this up, Chris, your thoughts on the holiday in your honor?
C.C.: It’s lika my mama used to say, “All good things come from Italy.”
WEDNESDAY! WEDNESDAY! WEDNESDAY!
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WITNESS THE SPECTACLE THAT IS DESTINED TO BE KNOWN AS THE DUEL OF THE CENTURY! WATCH IN AMAZEMENT AS BLOGWORLDS’ OWN LILY-LADEN LOTHARIO EDWARD HOTSPUR MATCHES WITS WITH THE ENIGMATIC CLOWN PRINCE HIMSELF- LE CLOWN IN A DUEL SO INTENSE IT’S SURE TO MAKE HAMILTON AND BURR LOOK LIKE A SLAP FIGHT!
BUT WAIT…THERE’S MORE!!!
WATCH AS TEAM EDWARD’S OWN LOVELY AND TALENTED GINGERSNAAP OF OHMYGODJUSTDOWHATISAY FAME, FLANKED BY THE VERY HANDSOME EL GUAPO FACE-OFF AGAINST LE CLOWN’S OWN WORDSMITH EXTRODINAIRES MADAME WEEBLES AND SPEAKER 7.
The winning topics:
- Furries (fetish), suggested by Carrie Rubin (16 votes);
- Group Sex in Retirement Adult Community, suggested by Rutabaga (10 votes);
- Protection Identities, suggested by The Ringmistress (9 votes).
The face-offs will be as follow:
- September 19 – Furries: Ginger Snaap VS Speaker7;
- September 20 – Protection Identities: El Guapo VS Madame Weebles;
- September 21 – Group Sex in Retirement Community: Edward VS Le Clown.
All posts written by Team Iron Gonads of Iron Fire will be published on Le Clown‘s blog; posts from Team Dachshund will be published on Edward‘s blog. Winners will be crowned by the amount of LIKES each post will get. So you, readers, will have the final say as to who’s this blogosphere’s force to be reckoned with.
TICKETS AVAILABLE FOR THE EPIC BATTLE ROYALE AT THE DOOR FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY!!!
THEY’LL SELL YOU A SEAT BUT YOU’LL ONLY NEED THE EDGE….