irreverent tirades, semi-coherent ramblings,paranoid revelations, existential rants and other pointless drivel on the absurdities of life within a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind we call Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania, all brought to you by an unheralded and superficial dilettante considered to be a prophet only in his own mind while dismissed as gutless by the masses.
The anticipation builds. More excitement it seems than over the selection of Pope Francis. Schuylkill County awaits the arrival of its newest citizen.
Times have changed since the early days of the contest. Now the winning mother and the father (if properly identified) may be entitled to free paternity testing, free day care, section 8 housing, heating subsidy, cell phone (with unlimited texting), legal services, food assistance, medical assistance, and educational grants.
To keep up with the times the dry cleaning prize has been changed from cleaning of suits and dresses to cleaning of sweat pants or pajamas for either parent.
The Republican Herald
newspaper already had a special edition on reflections of the events of
November 22nd, 1963, which occurred a half a century ago. Everyone my age has a story to tell about
where they were on that date. The paper refused to publish my reflections on that fateful day despite by repeated calls into "Thunder and Lightening."
So here it goes.
That morning I
decided to bag school and I headed into Pottsville. I took a bus into the city. It was a green
East Penn bus. You can tell East Penn busses by the thick fumes emitted. I sat in the third row, behind the bus driver, near the
window. When I arrived I had a quick bite to eat at the
Trailways Bus Terminal restaurant. The word “brunch”
had not yet been invented yet, but if it had been invented, you could say I had
brunch. It consisted of a hamburger and a cherry coke with fries. I had mustard on my burger, along with a slice of dill pickle. I remember it well. It was medium-well done.
I walked west on Norwegian Street and then north on
Centre Street. Centre Street was busy then. There were actual stores on the street as well as people. People who were not deranged. Or they kept
their derangement to themselves. At least most of them.
My favorite store was “Winnie’s”. Its storefront featured one box of TIDE in
the window. The store shelves inside were empty but the place was
a beehive of activity. Talk about low overhead. I went in and played my favorite number.
My
favorite number was 666. The mark of the beast. It still is my favorite number even though Winnie's is long gone. Sometimes I get my favorite number confused with 999.
Then I got down to business, I spent an hour in Tally’s
Pool Hall, smoking and engaging in friendly games of eight ball. I learned more math from that pool table than I ever did in school. Then the news came on the radio. Wee Willie Whistle, a country singer who was singing his heart
out on WPPA, was rudely interrupted by newscaster Jim Thompson that the president
had been shot in Dallas. I remember muttering out loud,
“Wow, Dallas…that is so close to Wilkes-Barre.” I was quickly corrected; the “Dallas” in question
was in Texas, not in Luzerne County.
I picked up my
winnings (about $11) and I headed to Malarkey’s store which had television sets for sale. I went inside and I became literally glued to
the TV set. It was an Admiral floor model.
My hand became stuck as I had some glue with me. I carried the glue for medicinal purposes only. After an hour, the store clerk brought
some hot, soapy water over; I was finally unstuck and Mr. Malarkey told me to get out
of the store. I felt remorse for the mess I caused on his TV set. I used my winnings to buy some records from Malarkey's before I left. I bought Jimmy Gilmore's "Sugar Shack," as well as Phil Spector's new Christmas album which featured one of the greatest Christmas songs of all-time. Spector went on to become a United States Senator from Pennsylvania elected once as a Democrat, twice as a Republican and once as Whig. Coincidentally he was on Congress' Assassination Committee and formulated the controversial silver bullet theory. It was disproven along with the existence of werewolves.
I got on another East Penn bus
and headed home with a trail of gassy fumes blocking the view of all cars behind us. When I got home I was confronted with more bad news. Aldous Huxley, the author of "Doors of Perception" had died. His death would go unnoticed. Things were really going downhill fast.
I put the album on my turntable. The album was in mono. Darlene Love sang this song and it hasn't aged one bit in the fifty years since its release on November 22, 1963.
Today I am asked how the world would be different if he had
lived. I don’t know why I am asked but people ask me anyway.
Certainly the
country would have remained a Camelot for a longer period of time. In fact an
extended Camelot era would have created more jobs for Schuylkill county’s struggling
Alcoa Plant. Breast plates, back plates, gauntlets, and metallic codpieces
would have continued to be produced locally if only Camelot would have continued until
1968 or beyond. Now all metallic codpieces are manufactured in China.
Take a look and you will see there is no union label on your codpiece.
What else
would have been different? Well the JFK silver dollar would not have existed.
At least not right away. Anything else? Let me think a bit. Well, the JFK swimming pool in Pottsville would have
been named after someone else.Probably after
Mayor Close or his brother. Finally, singer Dion would
not have released his sad folk song, “Abraham, Martin and John.” It would have
been released only as “Abraham and Martin” and the song would be 18% shorter in
length by eliminating the last stanza.
Merry Christmas to anyone who reads the blog.
Humbug to all others.
Now, as you await the arrival of the County's new year baby who eventually will become a burden on the taxpayers, enjoy Darlene Love singing "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home). The song was released on November 22, 1963 and it is celebrating its fifty year anniversary this year. So is Jimmy Gilmore's Sugar Shack, come to think of it.
Don't forget that Saturday September 28th, 2013 A.D.
is Burro Day in
Schuylkill Haven
The Running of the Burros has changed since Ernest Hemingway first experienced it. Where there were once open doorways and steps that a wayward donkey could maneuver, they've put up barricades. Where once a few Schuylkill Havenites and ex-patriots ran with the burros, now there are tourists from all corners of the world.
Where before they ran to show off their machismo, or like that Lost Generation, out of boredom, now they mostly run because of Hemingway, who resided for several years at the Country Squire Motel and who arm-wrestled Gertrude Stein to a draw in the Squire's lounge. But, while many things have changed, just as many have remained the same.
The singing of the prayers to Saint John, Saint Peter or Saint Charles, the all night partying at the D & D, the Downtown Tavern, the Uptown Tavern and the Midtown Tavern as well as the Green Goose Playground, and the thrill of being pursued across the Columbia Street Bridge towards the Parkway by an animal that is so slow moving that you would have to have the most incredible of bad luck to be hurt. You would be referred to as a "dumm Scheiße " if you happened to be injured.
The "Chupinazo", the Pennsylvania Dutch rocket signaling that the Festival has begun, will burst over your head at noon on the 28th of September and you don your scarves, but the Festival started hours before as the crowds in Le Bubec Parc doubles and re-doubles every 15 minutes, champagne, eggs and bags of flour in hand.
As the drinks and funnel cake are consumed so are the revelers, they begin pelting everyone with eggs, shaking champagne bottles and shooting the contents into the crowd and sailing the bags of flour into the air, so that by the time the rocket bursts overhead, everyone is covered in a smelly funnel cake batter-like substance. It is a glorious time to be in Schuylkill Haven.
I plan to be there in Gilberton for the unveiling of the new
welcome sign.
Gilberton needed a welcome sign now that it has gained so much
publicity.
Without a sign people
may miss it.If one is driving by and
happens to sneeze, the tiny borough of Gilberton may be passed by without one even knowing. It would be unfortunate for tourists to miss a town in which there is actually nothing to do there every minute of the day.
It is so small that it has often been
mistaken for Munchkin Land. By the way, Munchkin Land had the newest float in Shenandoah's recent Heritage Day Parade. Nearly everyone thought it represented Gilberton and wanted the float disqualified until it was verified that it was indeed Munchkin Land. All the proper paper work was in order.
MUNCHKIN LAND OR GILBERTON?
With all the increased attention and gun fanatics flocking to the community, I think some urban development could be in order. Perhaps new brick sidewalks. Everyone is doing brick sidewalk fundraisers now a days. Gilberton could have a brick walkway to honor freedom of speech.
With Schuylkill County and Pottsville School District having
personalized bricks sold as fundraisers, Gilberton should also get into the
action. But instead of selling bricks
honoring deceased persons, Gilberton could sell bricks with vulgar or crude
remarks on them. That is what our forefathers, foremothers and forecousins had in mind when the first amendment was written. This would set these bricks apart from the others. I think the borough is
sitting on a gold mine. Excuse me.... I think the borough is sitting on an F#)king
gold mine! If one is interested in memorializing a deceased loved one, that could easily be combined with some vulgarity or crassness. Tell the world the truth about your grandpa or grandma..."In memory of Grandpappy Trout, a real Horse's Ass. R.I.P."
Isn't honesty the best policy, even in brick engraving?
I have my brick picked out all ready. I don't want to memorialize anyone. No siree. I want the world to know how I feel. Here it is. Wouldn't it be great for the sidewalks to be adorned with these bricks? I am sure that it would attract the Nintendo crowd. Mammy told me that I should change the brick wording to
"Eat Sh*t and die!"
I think she is right, she usually is. I gotta go now as I want to watch the Video Music Award Show with Miley Cyrus.
I cannot believe that the Gilberton’s Chief of Police has a youtube
video that has gone viral in a few days, being watched by hundreds of thousands, while my blog, after years, is stuck in
the mid-thirty thousand hit range.
This makes
me very depressed.
My shrink told me to cheer up and forget about it. He told me that people now a days
are more interested in the visual and that my blog requires reading. People
just aren’t into reading like they used to be.
My shrink told me that maybe I should
spice up my blog with some profanity and violence. He said that maybe would get more hits if I
did this. If I did it right I could even get elected to a school board.
You know, he’s probably right.
I watched the Chief’s video. It was well-directed. A little light on plot but the video should appeal to the Nintendo crowd. It was also well acted, a combination of early Brando, Lenny Bruce and Don Knotts. Two thumbs up.
I too believe in the 2nd Amendment
(except for that stupid first part about having a well-regulated militia, that was
probably snuck into the Amendment by Ben Franklin when no one was looking. I never trusted that guy).
I am the staunchest 2nd Amendment proponent around. I am against
background checks, frontground checks, sideview checks, wheat checks or any
other kind of checks. The 2nd Amendment says nothing about checks. My interpretation of the 2nd Amendment is that any person should be able to own any type of firearm that the person can
pick up with one hand. It is that simple. I call it the one-hand rule. If you
can’t pick it up with one hand, you can’t own it. Very simple. This eliminates the right to personally own a
cannon. No one can pick up a cannon with one hand. Go ahead and try it.
If you have a disability that prevents you from picking up
the gun with one hand, then tough noogies.You can’t own a gun. If you are
worried about protection but can't pick up a gun, the Hillside SPCA is flooded with pit bulls. Take a ride over and pick one out.
Some say this is preposterous. What about the mentally ill?
Those with dementia? Those with Fregoli Delusion? Mad Cow Disease? The very
young? The very restless? The fast? The furious? To those critics who would deny these people the right to bear
arms, I say, read your F%&#Constitution,
or at least watch the #@!!% video version.
Aren’t these F%&;*#
people citizens of the F!&;?@#!#%&! U. S. of A. too? Aren’t they
protected by the &#%!@?!" Constitution? If they can pick up a &#%!@?)
gun with one hand, then who theF has
the right to deny them their Friggin
rights!!!! (My shrink told me using "the F bomb" will guarantee to triple my hits on the blog. Middle school kids absolutely love it).
Our Bill of Rights has been trampled on for years; just read
Article VII: “In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall
exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved.”
I once sued an old hook-up. She drank a bottle of my Friggen
Tanqueray gin one weekend (the weekend of the American Way Fair, if you are
really nosey) and she refused to pay me for it after we split up the following
Monday and went our separate ways.
You know that bottle had cost me about 27 Friggen bucks. I went to the Friggen Squire’s office and
demanded a Friggen jury trial.
I. never.
Friggen. got. one!
What about my Friggen
Constitutional right to a Friggen jury trial as promised by Friggen Article
VII?Not even in Friggen Gilberton do they give
citizens their full 7th Amendment rights.
My shrink told me I should throw some video showing off my support of the 2nd Amendment into
the blog. He said it should increase the traffic to my site and increase my hits. So here it goes. It contains some violence. I hope it works. I hope I go viral.
A letter from Mammy Trout Dear Readers, BB has been away from the blog for some time. Every once in awhile he goes on some sort of protest for a cause he finds dear to his heart.
A few years ago he went on a sit down strike to protest the demolition of the diving tower at JFK Pool in Pottsville. Then it was a hunger strike vowing not to eat funnel cake until Meatloaf was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I am so proud of him for his convictions and standing up for things that are right. I am not sure what he is doing now but he can't be found. Meanwhile read some of the old posts he did. Still topical and relevant. He is a genius. . Here is one on Pocket Park written two years ago.I would try to post a blog but I am not good on a computer. I still have trouble with my Etch-A-Sketch and my Wooly Willie.
Most cities have hundreds of streets, but one or two streets
always become better known than the others. It may be because of the shopping
opportunities, the nightlife, or historical significance, but it’s the streets
that the tourists and travelers always visit and snap pictures of. Remember the
last time you were on Beale Street in Memphis? Now you know what I am talking
about.
Mahantongo Street in Pottsville is such a
street.Mahantongo Street is nestled on
the foothill of Sharp Mountain (the mountain named after Necho Allen's favorite cheese), and it
runs for approximately thirty blocks. It is Schuylkill County’s equivalent of Park
Avenue, Champs-Élysées, Mulholland Drive, Wisteria Lane, Wall Street, Sesame
Street, the Donner Pass and Rodeo Drive, all rolled into one.Just imagine that conglomeration.
On a recent walking tour of charming Mahantongo Street, I was lucky enough to be at the Ice Cream Dairy when the Forbes list
of richest people was breaking news on T-101.The Dairy Owner was a trillionaire! Everyone at the dairy bar broke into
thunderous applause - an applause so
loud that ice cream fell out of the cones ashundreds of pigeons flew from the upstairs and out through the broken
windows, circling the city in a victory lap before returning to the Dairy.
The success of the
Dairy was due to the popularity of one product and one product only, that of Prothonocherry Ice Cream.It was the ice cream recipe that, I, bb
trout, created and sold away to the Dairy for a song and a dance (specifically,
the Hokey Pokey if you really want
to know what song and dance) and it made the Dairy owner rich beyond
belief.It took time for the flavor to
gain popularity. First, people had to learn how to spell and pronounce the
name, but once that happened, Vanilla and Mustachio were both soon discarded to the dust bin of
historical flavors.
Now people just can’t
get enough of it.It is a hit at the
Pottsville American Way Fair where it great on funnel cakes while taking in a
Moon Walk ride.Soon people from
everywhere began to flock to Pottsville to get a double-dip cone and take
photographs of America’s Oldest Ice Cream Dairy, where ice cream was originally
dug out from the containers by the bare hands of breaker boys who moonlighted at the Dairy after
leaving the mines. The ice cream scoop had yet to be invented. Incidentally, the breaker boys are credited with creating Rocky Road ice cream, another favorite in the city.
If you are not familiar with the Dairy, it is just a stone’s
throw down from “Les Soupe Cuisine” –
Pottsville’s critically acclaimed Français Soupe Kitchen. Yes! Now you know where
it is!Where lovers sit on the patio in
the moonlight, listening to the voices of the Edith Piaf and Maurice Chevalier
impersonators, while partaking of the soupe de jour, cheese fondue, the magnifique
frog legs, and of course, pie a la mode (with Prothonocherry ice cream, of
course).
To the untrained eye
the Dairy appears battered, dilapidated and decrepit, but that is part of its allure
to the tourists who flock there in droves. It, along with the neighborhood,
shed its patrician residential tone many decades ago. The bourgeoisie was run out of town,
resettling in Orwigsburg.
I heard some say that “the
Dairy building should be cited for Quality of Life violations” While others
say “a trillionaire could surely afford
to replace the broken windows.” To them I say leave the building alone,
give the citations to the hapless, tax-paying citizen who doesn’t’ shovel the
snow within minutes of the snow landing on his or her sidewalk. To the critics, I say our Dairy
building is the mirror of our city, a reflection of our inner souls, it is what
we have become. To the critics I say, "Qu'on
leur coupe la tête! Now can I finally
have another scoop of Prothonocherry? And make it a double dip, s'il vous plaît.”
Please watch this video. S'il vous plaît regardez cette vidéo.
I have heard
the term “Schuylkill Tripartite” but do not know what it means? Do you? I thought it has something to do with toppings placed on a cheeseburger at Renningers Market.
D.K.
North of the Mountain
Dear D.K.:
The
Schuylkill Tripartite is a rural legend that has been around for decades.
It refers to one individual sweeping three of
the major events held in Schuylkill County within one calendar year.
It makes
no difference if the calendar is Gregorian, Julian or Chinese.
A hat trick to
some, a triple crown to others, but the winner must win three.
Legend has it that a county woman during the second world war gave birth to the new year baby while the father of the child was
far away in the Pacific on his way to Bora Bora. He was an anonymous sailor
from Dauphin County, she was a riveter at Eastern Steel. They hooked up after a few drinks at the Circle
Bar one lonely April night in 1942 while the Andrews Sisters played on the juke box, if you really want to know.
The legend
continued with her winning the Pottsville Cruise in a 1931 Opel but this
victory was shrouded in controversy asby the end of 1942 half of the U.S. automobiles were issued an “A
sticker” which allowed only four gallons of gas per week.This limited the number of cars in the cruise
that year to only five, all driven by females as the Cruise regulars all joined
the navy and were somewhere in the Pacific, near Bora Bora. Four of the drivers got lost along the way. Many criticized
the winner for driving a german car, resulting in cabbage being hurled towards her (cabbage
was called victory lettuce back then). This caused the new year baby, in the car seat, to get
really fussy.
To make
amends, she organized the County’s World War II Rubber Drive and she, by herself, collected
one ton of old tires, rubber bands, raincoats, rubber duckies, teethers, garden
hoses, whoopee cushions, goulashes, rubber chickens, koosh balls, bathing caps,
hot water bottles, balloons shaped like animals and rubber gloves (not necessarily in that order).
This was all done single-handedly, mind you, as she
was holding the new year baby the entire time in her right arm.
That year, Schuylkill County collected more than any other county in the entire
United States that year thanks to her. The Historical Society has photographs of the large pile of whoopee cushions being bundled for transport at the Union Station. Every single whoopee cushion in the county was donated during this patriotic endeavor and 1943 will be forever remembered as the County's "quiet year."
After the
Rubber Drive ended, in front of the Capitol Theatre and in front of the heap of
collected rubber, Mayor Claude E. Lord Boulevard presented the key to the city to her
while she was nursing her prize-winning baby. His Honor announced that that she
was the Tripartite Champion of the county for winning the new year baby
contest, the cruise and the Rubber Drive (as well as possibly winning the
second world war too boot). This is the first time the term was supposedly used.
"For evermore no married woman nor married man
will ever win the New Year Baby Contest" according to Mayor Boulevard’s proclaimed prophecy; a
prophecy which has come true now for over seventy years.
Any resentment over
her driving the Opel during the Cruise soon vanished as the crowds gave her a
thunderous applause, causing the New Year Baby to get really fussy. The Third
Brigade Band sprang into action, playing a slow lullaby which caused the crowd,
the baby, the Mayor and the Tripartite Champion (not necessarily in that order)
to fall into a deep sleep. They did not wake up until the war was over or.... so
the legend goes.
Over the
years the legend has the Tripartite Champion winning the county Spelling Bee,
the Shenandoah Kielbossi eating contest, the Hegins Pigeon Shoot, the
Girardville Bar Crawl, the Klingerstown Greased Pig contest, the Schuylkill
Haven fishing rodeo or the Pottsville Republican Recipe Contest. Some contestants have come close, with some winning two events. In
1957 one lucky teen won the New Year Baby Contest and the Spelling Bee, but she
came in a disappointing third in the Soap Box Derby due to trouble with the
baby seat.
January 13th is New Year's Eve in St. Clair and its bedroom community of Arnot's Addition. S Novym Godom! My predictions for the Orthodox new year 2013 are as follows:
Nativity High School will begin closed door negotiations with the Pottsville Housing Authority and Barefield Development to transform the building into a high-end, no-income condominium complex geared to ambitionless youth population. A snag in the negotiations arises over the proposed replacement of the large illuminated cross with a giant illuminated number "8." The number, of course, is to honor the housing program that has made the city what it is today. The Winter Carnival pageant will be marred by a wardrobe malfunction when the Carnival's beloved mascot, Pottsie Ottsie, accidentally exposes a snow ball. Pottsville will conduct a major "quality of life" criminal sweep handing out dozens of tickets in April to the out-of- shape men walking shirtless along Centre Street when the temperature hits 60. Pottsville School District will have difficulty selecting a football coach causing the school to replace football with hacky-sack. Attendance will surge.
Yuengling Dairy will not receive a "quality of life" ticket from the Code Enforcement Officer who is determined to fight blight. The Mother's Memorial in Ashland will suffer from a severe case of hemorrhoids.
Schuylkill Allied Artists will feature tattoos for the first time. Attendance will surge.
Liposuction will cease to be offered at the Pottsville American Way May Fair after the Republican-Herald reporters expose the hidden fact that the removed fat is used at the near-by funnel cake stand as cooking grease. Another Pulitzer prize is not far away. The Pottsville Club will announce that shirts and shoes are no longer required for dining. Membership will surge.
Twenty will be injured during the Orwigsburg Bicentennial's rake-fighting competition. This is the most injured since the Orwigsburg Centennial celebration in 1913. Leiby's Dairy in Tamaqua will unveil a new ice cream named "Cherry Knowles." Production will soar, surpassing the output of its best selling Red Beets ice cream. This year's winning spelling bee word will contain the letter "e."
