You Can Eat That?

More on this guy tomorrow. Holy crap, will there definitely be more. It's absolutely worthy of a very thorough analysis. (I have been swamped lately and find myself falling behind on posting daily in a timely fashion. Thus, I'm resorting to a two-parter in order to keep up.) And really, just his hat (with the silhouette of a woman on all fours emblazoned in a stars and stripe pattern) could warrant its own post. Where does one get an item of apparel such as that? I'm guessing maybe every gas station in the south?

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Coffee Isn't Coffee, But Dumb Is Still Dumb

Here's what we have: We have a large family in a rural area of this country. Five kids, all of different ages and all with "different' names. (I used to work with a woman who once told me that there are two ways to spell a person's name. There's the regular way and there's the welfare way. And so far, she's right (and she told me this at least 15 years ago, so that's a pretty strong basis right there). But back to my scenario. OK, family, rural, lots of kids that are named after buildings or seasons or trees or something else that you normally don't name your kid after. Now, to that mix we're going to add a knocked up teenage daughter and her high school dropout boyfriend (I refuse to use the term "baby daddy". Good Lord, people.). Oh, also a finger tattoo here and there. And, as if that wasn't enough, we're going to throw in the boyfriend's drug dealing mother who gets busted by the Feds. Sounds like a great episode of 'COPS' or something, doesn't it? Actually, it would probably make a great episode of 'COPS'. If only it wasn't the First Family of Alaska we were talking about here.

Enter the Alaska Governor Sarah Palin family! You remember Caribou Barbie, don't you? Vice-Presidential running mate of Grandpa Old Man John McCain? Hottest governor, coldest state? Her husband, Todd, the First Dude. Their children: Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper and Trig (named for their favorite math subject? I don't know.) Oh, those are just the first names! Apparently, it's Track Enfield, Trig Paxson Van (as in Van Palin. You know, because they're Van Halen fans. I swear.) and Piper Indy. No word on Bristol's or Willow's middle names, so nice job keeping those under wraps in today's media, ladies!

Now normally I'm not one for thrusting the children of a public figure into the spotlight, but when they're adult children they're kinda fair game. So, I might rip a little bit, but since that's not my main point, it won't be extensive ripping (for once). It's ol' Bristol (who turned 18 a couple of months ago and is now fair fodder for the blog) who allowed herself to get a little over romanced and subsequently pregnant by her boyfriend, self-proclaimed "effing redneck" Levi Johnston. Johnston summed himself up on his MySpace page (before the entire world would want to read it and he would realize that he needs to take it down) by stating, "I'm a f**kin' redneck who likes to snowboard and ride dirt bikes. But I live to play hockey. I like to go camping and hang out with the boys, do some fishing, shoot some sh*t and just f**kin' chillin' I guess. Ya f**k with me I'll kick ass." This potential 'COPS' episode keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?

(Side note: Apparently Bristol gave birth at 5:30am on Dec. 29 in Palmer, Alaska which, surprisingly, is not going to be the child's name. The baby boy was 7 lb. 4 oz. and was named Tripp Easton Mitchell Johnston. Yeah, they're in for a trip alright. Congrats, Bristol and Levi. Good luck.)

Where was I? Oh, right, the scenario. OK, enter the mother of Levi Johnston, a one Sherry Johnston. Sherry is the one that just brought all of the pieces of this puzzle together to form one incredibly large redneck tale of dim bulbs and half wits. Sherry (who will be Sarah Palin's in-law one day) was allegedly supplementing whatever income she had (if any) by dealing drugs. Oxycontin to be exact. Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Your son's girlfriend's mother (why is this starting to sound like the scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off when Ferris is sick and it's explained that "Um, he's sick. My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious.") is running for Vice-President of the United States against a guy named Barack Obama and you decide that it would still be a good idea to continue to deal drugs out of your home. In Alaska. In small town Alaska! While the press is hovering outside your front door 24/7! Oh, sure. No problem there. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, IF Ms. Johnston had asked herself that very same question, she might have realized that plenty could go wrong. For instance, after a package containing several OxyContin pills was intercepted going to her house and having been mailed from....the...OxyContin....mall? (I don't know where this stuff comes from! Do I look like Amy Winehouse? The extent of my drug origination knowledge is that you grow pot because it's a plant, meth gets made in a bathtub and that's all I've got! I don't know where it comes from to start with.) Yeah, that's bad enough. But then when other people that are involved in your dastardly deeds end up getting busted, that's when you really have to worry because they will be offered a deal.

The "deal" that those who were busted during the package intercept procedure will be a lot different than the "deal" that Sherry Johnston was doing. Their "deal" involved them becoming informants in exchange for something else (usually lesser charges or just having the charges dropped altogether). There is no loyalty in Drug Land. None. If someone gets busted and they're asked to roll on someone else in exchange for keeping their own ass out of jail, they're on it! They will sing like a canary until someone tells them to shut up. And they often do. They did in this case.

So right in the middle of Palin-palooza, this Johnston woman initially had the right idea, though she had the wrong way of getting that message to the recipient. She decided it would be a good idea to text the following to one of her customers:“Hey, my phones are tapped and reporters and god knows who else is always following me and the family so no privacy. I will let u no when I can go for cof.” "Cof" is supposed to be short for "coffee" which is supposed to be code for "OxyContin". CoffeeContin. The thing with people who do drugs is this: They think they're being all smart, but they're really just on drugs! They're not smart at all! You can say "coffee" all you want, but if you mean "OxyContin", it's not going to matter that you said "coffee", you're still going to be in trouble! But drug people think that if they talk in their code that no one can crack that they'll just fly under everyone's radar. Little do they realize (and because why? Because they're high as can be, that is correct.) that they're so not flying under the radar. They don't realize that they've flown directly into the radar and that everyone else is watching everything they do. Brilliant they are. Brilliant.

Oh, but that wasn't her only text message that was intercepted by the do-gooders of law enforcement. She sent this one as well: “… there’s only so many times I can go for coffee a month. The rest of the time I need to have it at home!” Again, "coffee" = "OxyContin". And, again, "Sherry Johnston" = "not the brightest bulb on the tree". She knows that she's being watched and on top of that, she knows that her son's girlfriend's mother is running for Vice-Freaking-President and that there are people everywhere, giving her virtually NO privacy at all even if she wasn't dealing drugs! So she knows all of this and yet she decides it would be a good idea to continue on with business as usual. Sure! What could possibly go wrong? (Oh, wait. I already asked that didn't I? Was that before or after I mentioned that she was arrested? Before? I haven't got to that part yet? Oh, well, read on!)

She ended up selling OxyContin on three occasions that the informants participated in by wearing wires when they went to meet her. She received $800 for ten OxyContin pills. (TEN?!?! $800 for TEN?? My GOD, I have got to get some of that stuff! Holy cow, it must be phenomenal!) Oh, and they videotaped her making the transaction on one occasion as well. Can you say "She's effed"? Makes it hard to get out of things when you're on audio tape doing it and on video tape doing it. Seriously, what are you going to do? Pretend like you're eight and say, "Nuh-uh!! That's not me! Liar!" Yeah, that won't work so well when you're not eight. Hell, that won't work so well when you are eight.

She was arrested and charged with 5 or 6 felony counts of sale or possession of a controlled substance. Somehow, her bail was only $5,000 and she bailed out rather quickly and will return to court on Jan. 6. That's not a very high bail for 5 or 6 felony counts. What the heck is going on up there in Alaska anyway? Oh, that's right. Nothing. Never mind. Carry on.

Yep, if all of this wasn't Sarah Palin's family, you'd swear that this little tale took place down there in Flori-duh, wouldn't you? I would. Perhaps the Johnston family might want to consider relocating to be closer to the other members of their tribe.

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You Might Be A Redneck If...

I'm pretty sure that, as far as weddings go, this wedding is about as redneck as you can get. All of the major redneck components are present and accounted for, as well as some of the minor ones (which serve as some really, really nice final touches!). Let's run down the list and see how many we can check off, shall we?

• Wedding music? Hank Williams, Jr. Check!
  
  


• Sound system? Stereo of an SUV. Check!
  


• Cigarettes? Lots of smokes. Check!
  

• Obesity? At least 75% of the attendees overweight. Check!
  
  


• Nervous bride? She's smoking as she gets ready. Check!



• Supportive bridesmaid? She's smoking too. Check!
  
  


• Southern groom? His name is Bubba. Check!
  

• Fun loving guests? Lots of T-shirts with witty sayings. Check!
  
  


• Appropriately dressed guests? New shoes and all. Check!
  
  


• Decorations? Lots of tattoos. Check!


• Location? Parking lot of the Waffle House. Wait. What?

Now that is one hell of a list there. And if you have a list and someone else can check everything off of your list, well, that's a pretty good start right there. (At least, it's supposed to be.) Right up until that part about the Waffle House. That's when things start to get a little bit weird.

Down in Dacula, GA, right there at the GA Highway 316 and US Highway 129 interchange, there's a Waffle House diner. It's where Bubba Mathis and Pamela Christian both work and have worked together for the past three years. They've been together for the past nine years. For several years, the couple has tried to get married on July 4th (which is apparently the day that they met), but it seemed that she was always scheduled to work. (Hard to say why she didn't ask for time off in advance, given as how weddings usually require a little bit of planning.) But then she got the day off at the last minute, but then HE had to work. That's when they both decided that they would just get married after he got off work. And they'd do it AT work.

According to the fine folks down south at the Gwinnett Daily Post, "The result was what a NASCAR tailgate might be like if Hank Jr. himself stopped by with all his rowdy friends: Loud and proud - country music, storytelling and plenty of Dale Earnhardt paraphernalia - and not an iota of pretentiousness." Yes, I have no doubt that "pretentiousness" was noticeably absent from this affair.

The Waffle House Wedding was held under a shade tree out by the parking lot. With Hank Williams Jr. wafting from the sound system of an SUV as cigarette smoking guests looked on, the festivities began. As soon as vows were exchanged, it was back inside to cut the cake! That's right about when William Christopher, the father of the bride, started wondering if anyone had videotaped the ceremony. He wants to sent it in to CMT. (That's Country Music Television for those of you who aren't quite redneck enough to catch on to that.) Hey, I'm not the one who brought up the term "redneck". HE did. He said, "I think it's pretty redneck myself, but I'm a redneck anyway, so." So. So, indeed, sir.

In explaining why the Waffle House, Pamela said, "Waffle House is as much a part of our life as our kids are. (Ah, yes, the youngins. Little IHOP and Denny's, our pride and joy!) And we, together, we've been working at Waffle House together for almost three years now. So, when he had to work, we knew then that we were just going to have it here. We tried thinking about having it somewhere else but it didn't really work out. (It's unclear what didn't work out. The "having it somewhere else" part or the "tried thinking" part.) We didn't think it would be as good as having it at the Waffle House. (Because if you don't have waffles, you don't have squat.)"

Hey, you know, good for them, right? They seem happy. Committed. That seems like plenty, really. And if you can't like them for that, at least like them because they're a couple of people who have been together for nine years, who have a couple of kids and who live in the south and have actually had a JOB for the past three years. Hell, half of the people eating at Waffle House don't have jobs! So, hey, enjoy folks! Congratulations.

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