Well peeples, it's that time of year again. It's Paducah's own little holiday on river. It's a pinch of Fourth of July, mixed with a dash of St. Patrick's Day and whole mess of Giving Thanks. You got your weekend that everyone looks forward too, a nicely squared-off area to drink your swill that you had to use tickets to procure (what's the gig with the tickets and feeling like a rednosed raffle winner everytime you have to go buy more?) and a whole lot of chow to mow down on. Oh yea, it's Swine Fest on The River '07!
If Richard Simmons filmed an exercise video hear this weekend it'd be called "Porkin' to The Oldies". If Ron Popeil were at the riverfront, he'd tell you to throw some swine in the trusty Showtime Rotisserie Grill and "Pork it and forget it." Yogi Berra - if asked about the Swine Fest, would tell you, "When you come to a pork in the road, take it." If the Swine Fest had a debate, Rudy Porkliani would go toe to toe with Porklary Clinton. If ESPN covered the event, highlights would be on the 10 O'Clock Porkcenter. Okay, enuff of the "Wayne's World-esque" action. Werd.
With all the assorted variations on swine, sweets and swill, downtown is like the last challenge prior to the not-so Biggest Loser being sent home to show his/her spouse how hot they now are before reminding them how hot they ain't. As an afront, I wonder how many perfectly happy overweight marriages that show has busted up because it made one spouse hot and gave them self-confidence while leaving the other, at home, to take care of the kids, manage their lives and count the Twinkies until the other came home?
Back to the pork at hand. Essentially, every booth down at the Fest has swine that would make you smack yo grandmomma in the teeth if she had them in. I've never ate anything down there that wasn't tasty. Of course, I'm kinda like that bald guy on that show that comes on that cable network once a week, i.e. I ain't ate too much I didn't dig. You're real quandry is on who's swine do you dine?
That's where you get yourself into a whole mess of decidin'. Dry rub v. sauce. Hot v. mild. Beef v. chicken. The booth barbecuing for Jesus v. the booth barbecuing for some charity you've never heard of. Whichever one you decide to bone up with, you can't go wong.
Another factor that has to be thrown into to your math before you solve the Swine Fest equation is, at what time do you go? Choosing the wrong time to show can cause you either to see a whole helluva of a lot of people you know - which, in turn, means you talk to them as opposed to the person(s) that brung ye, which may or may not be desireable- or you won't see any porkin' people that you know at all. This two, much like a menu that defines "mountain oysters", can be advantageous for reasons that will remain nameless.
And then ewe got ewe're fried items. Twinkies. Oreos. Ice cream. Cheesecake. Allegedly, some charitable bunch of artery-cloggers are fryin' up Snickers this year. There's so much tasty fried goodness down there that the Cardiology Group has a booth. I heard that Western Baptist is going to have a booth equipped with a catheter lab on site.
Swine Fest '07 looks to be better than its porkcessors. Stop by the ATM, grab some cash, brush up on using a defibulator and get your pork on!
I'm just sayin.....
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
You're initial "Slingo" experience
WARNING: The gibberish that is about to appear below is solely my opinion and, if it affects your life in any substantial way, you should immediately ask your mother to take to your therapist's office to request a full refund. And no matter what they say, do not take in store credit. You want a full refund damn it! Whereas any grammatical errors may or may not be intentional, most ms. spellings are mint to be their along with the use of the wrong werd. I'm a big phan of goofiness such as that and I've decided to stick with the lingo that brung me. A good friend of mine has coined the term "Slingo" to describe the vernacular that I recalcitrate. So, lace up your vestibules and here we go......
Ewe ever noticed that no matter how terrible the weekend end news wrap up is, the anchor throws in what the number one flic at the box officer fer the weekend? "Iran launched a nuclear attack on Iraq today, the stock market crashed and finally, Dirty Dancing 2: Havanna Nights takes the weekend box office. " I mean no matter how shady thangs have gotten, the major networks apparently feel as though we need to know what movie we should have went and saw just prior to our starting to glow in the dark. I mean if watching a Swayzeless bastardization of one of the best worst movies of all times would have save me some duckets, I would not have given all my excess cash to that nice Nigerian fellow that contacted me via the internet.
Hear is a tip - and I'm not saying it applies to Nigeria because I'm not Jaque Cousteau or his non-union equivalent - if you live in a country that has changed names during your life time, you need to bolt. I mean naming a country is a little more serious than naming a pet or deciding to take on your spouse's last name. Burma is now Myanmar (which is I thought was the place Maverick and Goose went to school in Top Gun until recently). I guess that is better than Burma II, or Big Burm. Apparently Chad, which I remember from my 6th Grade Social Studies report is now something more official sounding. All those Slavias and Slovakias in Europe are now something else. Is Tunisia still running around out there sounding like a fish with a memory disorder or did Kadhfia or somebody hornswaggle on into to the mix and change it all up? These are all just questions. There are no attendance policies or homework assignments.
Whatever happened to Caroline Rhea as the moder-eater on NBC's lard fest that is The Biggest Loser? I found Caroline Rhea to be a more credible host than that waife that either did or did not bump uglies with Lucas during the Days of their Life. I mean, you knowed before you ever nude that Caroline Rhea as having to be caddle prodded away from the chow related challenges. A couple of times when the camera would cut back and catch her unprepared, you could see her wipe sauce off her mug hastily, as if you couldn't see the half-eaten bratwurst laying on the floor next to her. I mean, this new chic looks as if she has purge breaks in betwixt the commercials. We no longer have the fun of looking ferwerd to each week to see if the host had boned up to the all you could eat buffet at the Sizzler just outside the friendly confines of The Ranch. I could identify with because I look like the guy that ate me in high school. Have you noticed that it is called "the campus" this season. That is either a move to disassociate it with a fatty salad dressing or someone realized that calling it that made it sound like our chunky monkeys were gettin' on the good foot to do the fat thang in a cult-like environment.
Finally, is everybody looking forward to porking themselves silly at the Swine Fest on the River? I always dig the coming together of the various types of cultures and peoples that you encounter at said pork-o-thon. Fer instance, there's a church group that always flogs the apparent Baptized version of the Mexican delicacy, fried of ice cream. Who would have thunk that the concept of frying a frozen treat would have brought these divergent peeples together in the name of charity?
I'm just sayin......
Ewe ever noticed that no matter how terrible the weekend end news wrap up is, the anchor throws in what the number one flic at the box officer fer the weekend? "Iran launched a nuclear attack on Iraq today, the stock market crashed and finally, Dirty Dancing 2: Havanna Nights takes the weekend box office. " I mean no matter how shady thangs have gotten, the major networks apparently feel as though we need to know what movie we should have went and saw just prior to our starting to glow in the dark. I mean if watching a Swayzeless bastardization of one of the best worst movies of all times would have save me some duckets, I would not have given all my excess cash to that nice Nigerian fellow that contacted me via the internet.
Hear is a tip - and I'm not saying it applies to Nigeria because I'm not Jaque Cousteau or his non-union equivalent - if you live in a country that has changed names during your life time, you need to bolt. I mean naming a country is a little more serious than naming a pet or deciding to take on your spouse's last name. Burma is now Myanmar (which is I thought was the place Maverick and Goose went to school in Top Gun until recently). I guess that is better than Burma II, or Big Burm. Apparently Chad, which I remember from my 6th Grade Social Studies report is now something more official sounding. All those Slavias and Slovakias in Europe are now something else. Is Tunisia still running around out there sounding like a fish with a memory disorder or did Kadhfia or somebody hornswaggle on into to the mix and change it all up? These are all just questions. There are no attendance policies or homework assignments.
Whatever happened to Caroline Rhea as the moder-eater on NBC's lard fest that is The Biggest Loser? I found Caroline Rhea to be a more credible host than that waife that either did or did not bump uglies with Lucas during the Days of their Life. I mean, you knowed before you ever nude that Caroline Rhea as having to be caddle prodded away from the chow related challenges. A couple of times when the camera would cut back and catch her unprepared, you could see her wipe sauce off her mug hastily, as if you couldn't see the half-eaten bratwurst laying on the floor next to her. I mean, this new chic looks as if she has purge breaks in betwixt the commercials. We no longer have the fun of looking ferwerd to each week to see if the host had boned up to the all you could eat buffet at the Sizzler just outside the friendly confines of The Ranch. I could identify with because I look like the guy that ate me in high school. Have you noticed that it is called "the campus" this season. That is either a move to disassociate it with a fatty salad dressing or someone realized that calling it that made it sound like our chunky monkeys were gettin' on the good foot to do the fat thang in a cult-like environment.
Finally, is everybody looking forward to porking themselves silly at the Swine Fest on the River? I always dig the coming together of the various types of cultures and peoples that you encounter at said pork-o-thon. Fer instance, there's a church group that always flogs the apparent Baptized version of the Mexican delicacy, fried of ice cream. Who would have thunk that the concept of frying a frozen treat would have brought these divergent peeples together in the name of charity?
I'm just sayin......
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