Reflections From the Road VER 9.18

 I returned last evening from my semi-annual excursion to Dublin, Virginia for the Lions Club Flea Market. I love southwest Virginia politics, it's the only place where Trump is considered a moderate. But I won't get into politics in this post, maybe.

My younger son accompanied me on this trip as my wife thinks that I need some help with my "Stuff for Sale" enterprise at the flea market. Or maybe she just wants someone to keep me from slaying liberals?

On the weather front, setup day on Friday was a beautiful day as was the first business day on Saturday. Sunday, it started raining around 10:00 AM and killed the day's business.

As we traveled home last night on I-77 there was heavy fog on the mountain as we passed from Hillsville to the North Carolina state line. It took 45 minutes to travel 14 miles. Do the math!! 

So, I offer this medley of thoughts from the weekend.

Memo to motoring morons: There's a switch on your car that turns on those big "light things" on the front and the back of your car. I can't emphasize this strongly enough but when the visibility is less than 100 feet on the Interstate, turn that damn switch ON!! Those little running lights or courtesy lights that come on automatically don't help other drivers see the back of your vehicle. Those little lights aren't enough to help you see through the fog either. Your brain and thought processes may be dim, but your lights need to be bright enough to see.

I rant about tattoos on a regular basis, so I will tread lightly on this one. Maybe if God could put an "Etch a Sketch" option on babies, it could change lives. Someone could draw all over themselves and then their parents could just pick them up and shake them and all of the drawings would disappear. I like it!!

I am working on not insulting people as much as in the past. I have price signs on most of my merchandise, so when people miss the large sign that reads, "Craftsman sockets $1 each" I just point to the sign and offer them my glasses. 

Some Gen Zero asked me, "Why did they call it Life magazine?" I responded, "There was already a Death magazine."

Good parents should not let their children wear crocs.

If you think that public education works, set up a space at a flea market and answer stupid question after stupid question.

My son and I ate dinner at a Cracker Barrel on Saturday night. The couple at a nearby table sat and ate their entire meal without speaking to each other. They each were using their "smart" phones while eating. Who can watch porn while eating chicken and dumplings?

Wait! I almost forgot the rest of the story. I happened to look down at the floor when I dropped a napkin and saw the feet of the guy burning up phone. He was wearing sandals, and his toes were as long as my fingers. In the old days this guy would have been in a P.T. Barnum sideshow as the guy who could pick his nose with his feet.

I had a bunch of old JROTC uniform shirts and pants for sale. They were the old army green color from the 1970's. There were all small and medium sizes. I told any full-sized adult who looked at them that there were no large sizes. Despite the warning, one older fat schmuck insisted on trying one on. I told him that if I had to cut the shirt to get him out of it, he owned the shirt. He finally stopped trying. 

At the Bojangles in Dublin on Saturday morning at 6:15 AM, I watched as one woman tried to be both the drive through cashier and the dining room cashier. A female manager was in the back walking around with some kind of poster that had evidently fallen off the wall. I was there ten minutes, and she never came up front to help the struggling cashier. I may be going out on a limb here, but I don't think that she (the manager) has a bright future at Bojangles. 

I should have known not to go to Bojangles. On Labor Day as I came home from Hillsville, I stopped at the Bojangles in Mt. Airy. As I walked across the parking lot, I saw a large woman wearing a manager's uniform sitting on the window ledge by the front door smoking a cigarette and talking on her "smart" phone. I went inside and ordered. It took 5 minutes to get a two-piece dinner. I was the only customer. Then when I noticed that the dining room napkin dispensers were empty, I asked for some napkins. "We are out of napkins until the truck gets here tomorrow" was the reply. They are in the parking lot in front of a Food Lion grocery store. Could a manager talking out front on her phone, not walk the 100 yards to the Food Lion and buy some napkins? Cut they not cut up some rolls of paper towels?  Who sells fried chicken and doesn't give people something to wipe the grease off of their faces? When I got home, I entered a comment on the Bojangles comment site and asked for a response. Two weeks later, still no response. 

This was the first flea market in years where no one told me, "I'm a picker." I guess that the word has gotten out about my responses to that statement. 

Biden and the Demoncraps have inflation under control. That's why funnel cakes at the flea market are $10. Thanks Joe!!