How would Horatio Alger handle this situation?

"Good," I said. "But what about our room? And the golf shoes? We're right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo! And somebody's giving booze to these goddamn things! It won't be long before they tear us to shreds. Jesus, look at the floor! Have you ever seen so much blood? How many have they killed already?" I pointed across the room to a group that seemed to be staring at us. "Holy shit, look at that bunch over there! They've spotted us!"

We visited the Woodford Reserve Bourbon distillery. I will now make shallow and pedantic comments such as "Actually, Jack Daniels is not, by classification, a Bourbon. It is a Tennessee Whiskey."

Step 1: Cultivate more yeast than Bulgaria cultivates Feta.

Step 2: Steampunk it

Step 3: Put it in barrels with their logos all tilted in the same direction

Step 4: Put one of these things outside away from everything else

...

Profit!!

Yeah, I got one on my car

"'I'll Back it!' The Life man screamed. He was losing his grip on the bar, sinking slowly to his knees, but still speaking with definite authority: 'This is a magic moment in sport! It may never come again!' Then his voice seemed to break. 'I once did the Triple Crown,' he muttered. 'But it was nothing like this.'

The frog-eyed woman clawed feverishly at his belt. 'Stand up!' she pleaded. 'Please stand up! You'd be a very handsome man if you'd just stand up!'

He laughed distractedly. 'Listen, madam,' he snapped. 'I'm damn near intolerably handsome down here where I am. You'd go crazy if I stood up!'

. . . Outside . . . the flag went down and these ten poor buggers popped their clutches and zoomed into the first turn, all together, then somebody grabbed the lead, and a cheer went up as the rider screwed it on and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

'Well, that's that,' somebody said. 'They'll be back around in an hour or so. Let's go back to the bar.'"

Today, we went to Keeneland. Horse racing is very big in these parts. And by big, I mean larger than Emerald Downs by a magnitude of 10.

Mother won money on this horse. Probably because it levitates.

When you need a 'lil wooh WOOH

The Parasol: Umbrella's wussy sister

Steve's epic mount. Huhuhu.

Hillbilly Daze

"No, it was too much. The line between madness and massochism was already hazy; the time had come to pull back . . . to retire, hunker down, back off and "cop out," as it were. Why not? In every gig like this, there comes a time to either cut your losses or consolidate your winnings -- whichever fits."

And so we went to the Hillbilly Days festival.

Lots of fat folks walking around with coon skin hats and tails dangling off 'em.

These are some really nice BBQ.

Oh lawds, is I in heaven?

This golf course is built on top of a restored strip-mine (the kind of mine where they hack off the top of the mountain instead of tunnel through). Really cool setting, mountainous drops on all sides. 500 yd drives. Real BBQ at the clubhouse instead of crappy hotdogs.


These flowery trees are all over the place.

They're called Redbud, but they are neither red, nor are they bud.

The town with a mine of its own

"History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of "history" it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time -- and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened."

Today we visited a coal mine that was operational until the 1920's or so. The important thing to remember is somewhere THEY STILL DO THIS SHIT TODAY.This was our guide. LEEEEEEEROYYYYYYY JENNNNNNNNNNNNKINS!!!



I wish I had one of these for Ivailo.


<-- High St.
Lively St. -->
Daniel Miller's Motto


Hard to perceive its magnitude, but this is the
largest arch-bridge in the western hemisphere.
They hold a festival every year where people gather
and watch others base-jump off of it. To see if they die.


Lol wut?

Ghost town

"There is no way to explain the terror I felt when I finally lunged up to the clerk and began babbling. All my well-rehearsed lines fell apart under that woman's stoney glare. "Hi there," I said. "My name is . . . ah, Raoul Duke . . . yes, on the list, that's for sure. Free lunch, final wisdom, total coverage . . . why not?"

West Virginia looks a lot like home under these conditions, except they have huge rivers instead of glacial valleys. I decided to venture through the gap in the flood barricade to walk up and down the Ohio river. Supposedly a park, but nobody was around. Creepy. I was approached by a transient who asked me if I lived under the bridge as well. I left immediately.

Looking for something uplifting, I went to Huntington's epicenter of cultural discourse: the art museum. It was not uplifting. After several hallways of silver and glass sculpture and refinement I began to hear very disturbing noises. I entered the current exhibit that featured an abnormality and anxiety theme. Besides the dark room that chanted "GET OUT OF MY MIND GET OUT OF THIS ROOM" there were many paranormal pieces.

"I posed nude every day for a drawing class, from 9 am to 12 noon. Each day, a man who was always seated in the first row, on my far left, drew me for three hours. At noon he would take a razor blade out of his pocket and compulsively slash the drawing he had made. I would watch. Then he would leave the room. The drawing would remain on the table as evidence. This was repeated every day for twelve days. On the thirteenth day, I didn't go to work."

This was a doll, trapped under a chair, with a face projected onto
the head. It was alternately screaming and laughing.

Thank you, Huntington. I will now have nightmares.

Fud

H.S.T: . . . I need some coffee.
Att'y: I want tacos . . .
H.S.T: Five for a buck, that's like . . . five hamburgers for a buck.
Att'y: No . . . don't judge a taco by its price.
H.S.T: You think you might make a deal?
Att'y: I might. There's a hamburger for $.29. Tacos are $.29. It's just a cheap place, that's all
H.S.T: Go bargain with them . . .
Att'y: . . . Hello.
Waitress: May I help you?
Att'y: Yeah, you have tacos here? Are they Mexican tacos or just regular tacos? I mean, do you have chili in them and things like that?
Waitress: We have cheese and lettuce, and we have sauce, you know, put on them.
Att'y: I mean do you guarantee that they are authentic Mexican tacos?
Waitress: . . . I don't know. Hey Lou, do we have authentic Mexican tacos?
Woman's voice from kitchen: What?
Waitress: Authentic Mexican tacos.
Lou: We have tacos. I don't know how Mexican they are.
Att'y: Yeah, well, I just want to make sure I get what I'm paying for. 'Cause they're five for a dollar? I'll take five of them.
H.S.T: Taco burger, what's that?
Att'y: That's a hamburger with a taco in the middle.
Waitress: . . . instead of a shell.
H.S.T: A taco on a bun.
Att'y: I betcha your tacos are just hamburgers with a shell instead of a bun.
Waitress: I don't know . . .
Att'y: You just started working here?
Waitress: Today.
Att'y: I thought so, I've never saw you here before. You go to school around here?
Waitress: No, I don't go to school.
Att'y: Oh? Why not? Are you sick?
H.S.T: Never mind that. We came here for tacos.
[Pause.]
Att'y: As your attorney I advise you to get the chiliburger. It's a hamburger with chili on it.
H.S.T: That's too heavy for me.
Att'y: Then I advise you to get a taco burger, try that one.
H.S.T: . . . the taco has meat in it. I'll try that one. And some coffee now. Right now. So i can drink it while I'm waiting.
Waitress: That's all you want, one taco burger?
H.S.T: Well, I'll try it, I might want two.
Att'y: Are your eyes blue or green?
Waitress: Pardon?
Att'y: Blue or green?
Waitress: They change.
Att'y: Like a lizard?
Waitress: Like a cat.
Att'y: Oh, the lizard changes the color of his skin . . .
Waitress: Want anything to drink?
Att'y: Beer. And I have beer in the car. Tons of it. The whole back seat's full of it.
H.S.T: I don't like mixing coconuts up with beer and hamburgers.
Att'y: Well, let's smash the bastards . . . right in the middle of the highway.

Well, this is a Taco Dog. It was fucking amazing.

This is deep-fried macaroni and cheese with ranch. Fuck ya!

To the great beyond

"But our trip was different. It was to be a classic affirmation of everything right and true in the national character. A gross physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country. But only for those with true grit.   And we are chock full of that, man."

I go to west virginia to document the essence of american life.