It's not the heat, it's the humility

Joe,

When we were kids, running through a fog of DDT sprayed off the back the old township jeep, we thought the good toys were American and the trash came from Japan. If you had an ink pen whose metal clip said "Made in USA" and if there wasn't a period after the "U", the "S" and the "A", we all said that came from Usa, Japan, and we all laughed at your cheap shit.

A week or two ago, one of the last grocery stores here, E J James, went under. The Super Wal-Mart on the bypass had struck again -- just about the coup de grace. It's funny, when the original Wal-Mart opened here twenty-five years ago, my friend Ribs was sent to the little municipal airport to pick up Sam Walton, who made Ribs take a good look at the town square on their way to the opening. He told Ribs most of the stores would be going under, eventually. Ribs still drives the Tom's Eat-a-Snack truck, but his route is a lot shorter now. Eventually is here.

When E W James store closed, I walked again through the Wal-Mart grocery section, but all I could think of was a Moscow commissary -- and of the landlady saying, as she swept up Gregor Samsa's detritus, "Is this all there is?" Those same kids that mocked post-war Japan's flimsy junk now fill the parking lot slots to buy all their junk from our new pal, communist China. We are a proud race.

As a self-defrocked English professor (none too soon), I never went in for pop culture. However, the so-called "white trash" writing from people like Larry Brown always stings hard and rings very true to me. It's really the most representatively American writing (along with hip hop), if the rest of us would just admit how the cake is really decorated. With Cheez-Wiz. And you're right about the sting of humiliation.

It wasn't Braveheart himself that stirred me, but that that highly animated and slovenly crowd of cudgelers willing to climb any mountain to eagerly cleave a fellow kinsman's skull. It's the ultimate reaction to a good look in the mirror.

I have received your writing appreciatively for three years now. Something went a little south about the time you got your book deal, but now you're writing towards your best. "Meditations from the Cheap Beer Zone" is first-rate. Definitively made is the U.S.A.

When you're on Jon Stewart, lift your leg and fart a loud one.

With regards,

Lawrence
Tennessee

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LOL! Right on!

Ya know, I had the same reaction to Braveheart and indeed I've even thought of Russian commissaries when in Wal-Mart.

As to "something went a little south about the time you got your book deal," it sure did. It was my health. About that time I was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis and given about 18 months to live. That made it a bitch to write for about four months while I was dragging around an oxy tank and trying to write the book. A subsequent diagnosis revealed that I do not have PF, but a somehwat lesser form of Cardio Pulmonary Obstructive Disease ... one which will still send me tits up, but takes a few more years.

Hoofuckin ray, I hollered! So now I drag myself through a 55-hour a week straight job (counting the commute) because I need the health insurance ... actually, so my wife can have it. I say fuck the bastards, I don't want to die in one of those expensive American technological horror show deaths ... and try to write on the side with at least some sense of gratitude.

But not much. I am one grumpy bastard and cannot be satisfied very long at a time.

What about you?

Joe

PS: My agent and editor would shit their silk microfiber britches in one of their New York publishing piques if they heard me say this, but I'd rather drink lye or kiss a fuckin boarhog than be on that Jon Stewart show. I'm extremely choosy about the kind of people I am seen with.