I’ve heard people attach my moniker to as many places as you can imagine throughout the years. I guess the Garden of Eden was the first “God’s Country” but like most places that have worn that title, it was ruined by its residents. And while I do have that whole omnipresent thing going for me, even the big dog upstairs needs a home base. And I’ve had plenty.
Athens was really cool for a while, but the view from my place in Mount Olympus isn’t what it used to be. My bungalow in Mesopotamia is right on the Euphrates, but it’s also right on a convoy route. You can only have so many dinner parties ruined by exploding IED’s before people start RSVP’ing to your Evite’s with vague regrets about maybe having to be out of town. Rome is a joke compared to what it once was, all those Mario Batali clones running around renting Vespas and smoking in public. The horror!
Jerusalem is alright I guess, if you don’t have to rely on reliable but dangerous public transit. Mecca is just too damn crowded. If you think the lines for the Hotty Toddy Potty are bad during the LSU weekend, try standing in line for six hours, straining to hold it in, only to find out that you’re in the line to rub the black stone, not the one for the Islamapotty II. I thought I’d like the other Athens, but ever since Bill Berry left REM, the only thing really keeping me there was sweet tea from Guthrie’s.
So after hearing the aforementioned title given to this little patch of soil in Lafayette County during far too many rambling rehearsal dinner toasts throughout the years, I’ve decided to do what rich people from Texas and Atlanta do. Overpay for a condo overlooking the Square. In addition to getting to drink sweet tea regularly, I’m gonna see if the whole “God’s Country” thing can really apply to your little place here. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s touch and go as to whether or not I’ll be sticking around for long.
First, the positives. Blue Mountain is playing shows again. And if I have a soundtrack, Cary Hudson wailing away on “Bloody 98” is not a bad opening hymn. I also like Thacker Mountain, sunsets on the way back from Betty Davis on a Sunday afternoon, trips to Wal-Mart “all the way across town” that take only ten minutes round trip, and chicken salad from James Food Center.
That being said, you’ve got some things to work on. Where does your top-dog deity gotta go to get a proper fajita in this town? “Fajita” is Spanish for skirt, not mangled over cooked round steak. And sure, I live close to most of my favorite watering holes, but I got popped for a DUI on my way back to town from Taylor one night. Is there no diesel in this town? Have you not heard of buses? Now I’m riding passenger side for the next six months and my old lady is making me chip in for gas.
And what’s up with a recycling “pilot” program? Consider this an open letter to your fair town’s leadership. Recycling is a proven commodity. Further testing is not required. Accountability from leaders is.
I’ll get down off my soap box long enough to ask ya’ll for one other thing. Since I’ve been here, my cell service has been real spotty while I’m out sunbathing at Sardis, and I’m sure there’ve been some prayers that have gone unanswered.
Feel free to send me an email at godallahyaweh@thelocalvoice.net. The editor has been nice enough to volunteer to be my go between for the time being since my last liaison decided to become the PR guy for the Double Entendre Wrestling Association. Any questions, requests, complaints, or thank you’s that you feel you need to get off your chest are welcome.
