The greatest place on earth is the coast. Now, mind you, I love the Georgia coast better than about anywhere I can think of, but we’re not the only place on earth with a coast. Every coast has its qualities — good and bad. My coast has it all.
My observation about the people who live closest to the actual coastline, or the ocean’s edge, is that these people are different from people who live 10 miles inland. They even talk differently. The farther inland you go, the thinner the brogue gets. “I know dat’s right, sho iz now. Sho nuff, Bubba, un huh. You ain’t lyin. Yeh buddy, I heard that. I heeeeaaaaard dat.”
See what I mean. The professionals can change dialects as they travel down the road. The real coasties change dialects four times between Sapelo Island and Glennville. Or according to whoever they’re standing next to.
That’s the good thing about hailing from the edge of it all. From where I live, one takes a left to go to Texas and the rest of the world. If we take a right, well it’s next stop: Spain.
The bad part about it is I can’t have an iPhone. My wife bought me one for my birthday and it wouldn’t work unless I wrapped a sheet of tin foil around my whole body and put a set of rabbit ears on my head. But if I got in the car and drove around the bluff to the big metal dock that the county spent too much money on, the phone works fine. But it makes me glow in the dark and that makes my dog nervous.
I called technical support only to find out that I obviously live in a “dead zone.” I don’t want to live in a “dead zone.” That sounds like the place where Michael Jackson sang “Thriller.” Boogery.
I want the same things Claxtonians have — iPads, iPods, iPhones, iRods and iReels, and I don’t want to have to call iTech and iTackle every time I try to use them.
I need “apps.” Actually, I never knew I needed apps until I didn’t have them. Why, for 99 cents I can get an app that tells me what the weather is right this minute. Or I can stick my head out the window and see for myself. There’s even apps that tell you how to make crab stew or barbecue a coon. I wouldn’t have to waste my 99 cents on those two because I already know how to do that.
All in all, I guess it’s a small price to pay to live on the edge where the clock runs about 15 minutes slower and you don’t get 60 Minutes until Wednesday. Oh, it’s broadcast on Sunday, but we just don’t get it ’til hump day.
I think I’ll go take a nap.
My observation about the people who live closest to the actual coastline, or the ocean’s edge, is that these people are different from people who live 10 miles inland. They even talk differently. The farther inland you go, the thinner the brogue gets. “I know dat’s right, sho iz now. Sho nuff, Bubba, un huh. You ain’t lyin. Yeh buddy, I heard that. I heeeeaaaaard dat.”
See what I mean. The professionals can change dialects as they travel down the road. The real coasties change dialects four times between Sapelo Island and Glennville. Or according to whoever they’re standing next to.
That’s the good thing about hailing from the edge of it all. From where I live, one takes a left to go to Texas and the rest of the world. If we take a right, well it’s next stop: Spain.
The bad part about it is I can’t have an iPhone. My wife bought me one for my birthday and it wouldn’t work unless I wrapped a sheet of tin foil around my whole body and put a set of rabbit ears on my head. But if I got in the car and drove around the bluff to the big metal dock that the county spent too much money on, the phone works fine. But it makes me glow in the dark and that makes my dog nervous.
I called technical support only to find out that I obviously live in a “dead zone.” I don’t want to live in a “dead zone.” That sounds like the place where Michael Jackson sang “Thriller.” Boogery.
I want the same things Claxtonians have — iPads, iPods, iPhones, iRods and iReels, and I don’t want to have to call iTech and iTackle every time I try to use them.
I need “apps.” Actually, I never knew I needed apps until I didn’t have them. Why, for 99 cents I can get an app that tells me what the weather is right this minute. Or I can stick my head out the window and see for myself. There’s even apps that tell you how to make crab stew or barbecue a coon. I wouldn’t have to waste my 99 cents on those two because I already know how to do that.
All in all, I guess it’s a small price to pay to live on the edge where the clock runs about 15 minutes slower and you don’t get 60 Minutes until Wednesday. Oh, it’s broadcast on Sunday, but we just don’t get it ’til hump day.
I think I’ll go take a nap.