Posts Tagged North Carolina

Fear and Loathing in Troop 25

Troop 25On my honor I will do my best
To do my duty to God and my country
and to obey the Scout Law;
To help other people at all times; 
To keep myself physically strong,
mentally awake, and morally straight.

All Boy Scouts are required to memorize and recite the above oath.  Some of the members of Troop 25 were able to memorize it…but none of us took it to heart.  In fact, we violated every single tenet of the oath in morally reprehensible (and often criminal) ways.  Let me give you an intro to the sordid history of Troop 25 from 1981-1984 by breaking down each line of the Boy Scout Oath…

On my honor I will do my best
When you think of the Boy Scouts, you probably visualize upstanding young citizens, who are eager to learn about camping and nature.  Our troop was comprised of under-achieving miscreants…many of whom did not make it past the 9th grade.  I can’t recall a single occasion when any member of our troop showed any excitement for anything scout-related.  When we were forced to participate in activities, there was always some sort of uprising that led to one or more “scouts” being paddled and/or banished from the troop.

To do my duty to God and my country
I had never said “Goddammit” before joining the scouts.  Our scoutmaster didn’t mind us chewing tobacco or trading Hustler magazines, but he would get pretty upset when we took the Lord’s name in vain.  So naturally all you heard at our meetings was a bunch of delinquent teenagers running around saying “Goddammit” every other word.    

and to obey the Scout Law;
We didn’t even obey the real law.  For example, the whole troop was thrown in jail overnight on a beach camping trip for drinking beer in the parking lot of a grocery store.  Most of my stories about Troop 25 fall into this category.  Also, we lied and cheated to get just about every rank and merit badge that was “awarded” to us.

To help other people at all times;
If by helping people, you mean “keying” their cars and pissing on their tires…then yes, we helped people.

To keep myself physically strong,;
You had to try to be reasonably fit to protect yourself from the violent man-child rednecks that comprised our troop.  But in reality, I survived mainly due to my sense of humor, and by befriending the black guys.

mentally awake, and morally straight.
I had to be “mentally awake” to avoid having the criminal record that many of my fellow scouts carry with them to this very day.  I don’t think anyone who stayed with the troop more than 2 weeks was “morally straight”…but I never ratted anyone out, so that has to count for something.  Even in this forthcoming series of articles, I shall endeavor to protect the guilty.

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The Old Rebel Show

The Old Rebel and crew during the 60's

The Old Rebel and crew during the 60's

Most kids of my generation remember growing up with Captain Kangaroo or Mister Rogers but if you happened to be a child in the Piedmont region of North Carolina during the 50’s, 60’s or 70’s then you had access to a very special bit of children’s programming known as The Old Rebel Show.

Aside from the fact that the host assumed the persona of a retired Confederate soldier and probable slave owner, something that surely wouldn’t fly in these more politically correct times, The Old Rebel Show was a treat for children for all races (NOTE: much like the television show in NC ethnicities only came in black and white at the time) as long as they lived within the limited range of the WFMY broadcast tower. That is to say you were pushing it if your house was further than a 20 mile radius from Greensboro.

Lucky for me, my father had a hobby of repairing television equipment. Not only did we have a TV in nearly every room but we also had a monster of a directional antennae jutting about 40 feet above our house. While my friends had to watch the Old Rebel through a snowstorm of interference, I enjoyed my kids programming with crystal clarity. Hell, the image on my 17-inch black-n-white was almost HD-like.

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Can’t We All Just Get Along?

It's all fun and games until someone loses a leg

It's all fun and games until someone loses a leg

I don’t condone violence of any sort. I’ve never been in a fight in my life and even boxing makes me a little uncomfortable, but being a high school teacher, I’ve seen my share of fights. Most of them are yelling or shoving matches that are broken up fairly quickly, but others are bloody and seem to last forever. In fifteen years I’ve had two fights in my classroom. Both happened on days when I was giving a test (perhaps they were planned).

In one of these fights, a young man got up in the middle of the test, put his pencil on his desk, calmly walked across the room and cold-cocked this other kid right in the face. He then grabbed the kid by the neck and maneuvered him into a headlock. That one was over fairly quickly. The second fight I should’ve known was going to happen. In the middle of the test, a young man took off the shirt he was wearing and put on a wife beater before he slugged the other kid. That fight got so out of hand that I had to have other teachers come in to help me.  They knocked over desks, made highlighters explode, tore pages out of dictionaries…they were going at it. I just remember trying to get all of the others students out safely (the one on crutches was the most difficult).

The best fight that I have ever witnessed was in Weldon, NC. I was sitting in the teachers’ lounge one morning, grading papers when I heard this awful screaming. When I walked out the door, I saw (and heard) the secretary screaming, “OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW! I SAID OPEN THIS DOOR!” while she was banging on it with both fists. When the door opened, I could not believe what I saw. Two girls were rolling around on the floor and the principal was crawling towards the door. I couldn’t figure out why he was on the ground until he was fully out of the way. Apparently he tried to get in-between the fighters and was knocked to the ground, but not before one of the girls yanked his prosthetic leg off of him and was using it to beat the other girl. I can still see the shoe and sock that were attached to it.

I know I should’ve helped the others who were trying to break up the girls, but I was paralyzed. I had never seen anything like that before in my life (and haven’t since then). All I could do is stand there with another teacher and laugh in disbelief. I felt horrible for laughing, but that was the last thing that I expected to see happen in a fight. The fight was stopped, the principal re-attached his leg and the day continued as normal, but that was the day that fights in school were redefined for me.

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The Original White Trash Tale

You have to start somewhere

You have to start somewhere

The inaugural White Trash Tale, as with many of the other stories you will read here revolves around our lost friend Gary. You see, after he met Tonia he dropped out of sight. As is often the case with a new relationship, he didn’t have time to hang with the boys. We were amazed, however, with the speed and precision that Tonia employed in extricating Gary from our group. After only one blow-j behind the air conditioning unit at her mother’s house Gary was lost to us forever. It should be noted that, up until a few weeks ago, any Alamance County resident could receive similar treatment from Tonia for a mere $40.

Because Gary was totally off the radar we had to rely on 3rd parties to feed us knowledge of his whereabouts. One day Bobby received a call from one of Gary’s ex-girlfriends. She had stayed close with Gary’s family long after the break-up and they had been telling her things about Tonia’s actions that she found disturbing. So she called Bobby to try and prompt an intervention.

The story she told was this: Tonia had been inviting men over to their trailer while Gary was at work. Seeing as how the trailer occupied the same land as Gary’s parent’s house and as such was in full view of said house, it probably wasn’t the most discreet thing she could be doing.

Rather than tell Gary what the love of his life was up to, his mother decided to confront Tonia directly. This altercation ended with Tonia smacking her future mother in law across the face and advising her to mind her own damn business. When Bud (of Jar Tree fame) caught wind of Tonia slapping his wife, he marched down to the trailer, kicked the door off it’s hinges, grabbed Tonia by the throat, and told her that if she ever lay hands on his wife again he would hit her so hard that it would forever ruin her only means of income (I am paraphrasing here).
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The Real Reason That I Wouldn’t Return His Call

Rednecks know how to make their mark

Rednecks know how to make their mark

I’m a nice person. Honest, I am. Ask anyone to describe me and that’s usually the first thing that comes out of his/her mouth. I never want to hurt anyone’s feelings at all, so I tend to avoid any situation that could cause me to do just that. When I lived in Roanoke Rapids, NC I met Adam at a club in Rocky Mount one night while I was out with some friends. We seemed to hit it off immediately and I was certainly looking for more friends in the area because I had just moved from Virginia and knew only a couple of people. He called me the next day and we ended up hanging out a few more times with friends, but nothing romantic was on the horizon.

One evening Adam called and wanted to know if I’d go on a “date” date with him. Just the two of us. I wasn’t interested in dating anyone at all, but decided that he was nice enough to give it a shot. If nothing else it would get me out of the house on a Friday night. He worked as a beer distributor and talked me into going to a club in Weldon (which is a stone’s throw away from Roanoke Rapids). He picked me up and we spent the evening drinking and dancing. Unfortunately, this is where it gets a little hazy for me.
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NC State Student Arrested For Monstrous Construction

One man’s art is another man’s vandalism and if that other man happens to be THE MAN then you are in trouble. Such was the case with Joseph Carnevale when he decided to chop up some construction barrels and make a 10-foot tall hitchhiking monster.

No hitchhiking allowed

No hitchhiking allowed

Though the construction company was actually quite pleased with the roadside art, even requesting that Carnevale build them another one, the local police were not as amused. Not only did they dismantle the creation and arrest the boy but they are also investigating other instances of street art displayed on Carnevale’s website.

So far hundreds of people have spoken out on Joseph’s behalf. All of them asking that the charges be dropped.

We at WTT are strong advocates of The Arts particularly when they are portrayed in such a menacing fashion as to frighten motorists. We wish you luck with your legal troubles Joseph and look forward to your next project involving police barricades and donut boxes.

Links:

MSNBC article about the barrel monster

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Baby Doll Tells All

A nice place to visit but you wouldn't want to go there.

A nice place to visit but you wouldn't want to go there.

Looks like Tonia “Babydoll” Pennington has as much trouble keeping her mouth closed as she does her legs. After being arrested at her place of work, the Paradise Strip Club, my friend’s ex-wife was charged with 14 counts of violating a local ordinance/adult entertainers; eight counts of a clothing violation; seven counts of sexually explicit behavior; five counts of violating a local ordinance by an owner/operator; two counts of conspiracy to sell and deliver cocaine; two counts of selling and delivering cocaine; possession with the intent to sell and deliver cocaine; and two counts of possession of drug paraphernalia (whew that was a mouthful).

She has now gone on record about her exploits with an official publicly posted affidavit that can be read in its entirety here: Download PDF Baby Doll’s Affidavit

It reads like a slutty syllogism so I will sum up the highlights for those of you with short attention spans and a lack of Adobe Acrobat.
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Baby Doll’s Downfall

I can't decide which is classier...the sign pleading for more dancers or the Camaro with the homemade hood scoop...

Paradise Lost

They say you can never go home again and in most cases that holds true. Life keeps rolling along no matter how small your hometown happens to be. It could be that in your absence three Super Wal-marts have sprung up within sight of one another or perhaps the local strip mall claims to be serving the freshest sushi around (a mere 250 miles from the nearest seaport). But as much as things change there are some aspects of hometown life that are timelessly unyielding.  For example, your friend’s ex-wife will always be a whore. Literally.
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Midget On A Miniature Horse

An old school friend was an organizer of the Arts d’Vine festival so we all packed up and made the 30 mile trek down to Kernersville to see what was up.

Over the past few years the western region of North Carolina has been working hard to become known as the Sonoma of the South.  Wineries have been springing up all over the Blue Ridge foothills and, for the most part, they actually produce some very good wines.  So I wasn’t as concerned about the “d’Vine” portion of the evening as I was the “Arts”.

You see the Piedmont has never been known as a hotbed of artistic talent. For years Jessie Helms did his best to suppress our creative urges replacing them instead with steady nicotine infusion to satisfy our souls. But I must say that in this post-Helms era the arts are flourishing and I think it is safe to say that the people of Kernersville are leading the charge. Gone are the coon jiggers of the past. No longer are lawn jockeys considered appropriate. Why you can even engage in lofty conversation while sipping tea and eating finger sandwiches at the local Pegg House Tea Room.

Yes art has come a long way in North Carolina and there is no better evidence of this than the image below.

The high water mark for southern art

The high water mark for southern art

I found this while walking down Main Street in Kernersville. It called to me begging for purchase. Had I not been unemployed and 3000 miles from my home I might have answered the call.  Alas this solemn midget straddling a magnificent yet miniscule equine remains on the market.  I can only hope that we will find each other again one day as there could be no more perfect pairing of art and owner.

Thank you Kernersville for awakening my love for art and fortifying it with enough free booze to almost make me part with my mortgage money.  I will most certainly visit you again.

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