He Just Ain't Right

-Do you know or work with someone who “just ain’t right?” I want to be clear right from the get go; I am absoultely not talking about people with disabilities or mental illnesses. I don't stoop to that level here on Muffin Matters. I’m simply talking about people that “just ain’t right.” You know what I mean--people who aren’t all there, people with elevators that don’t go all the way to the top, people that are a couple of bricks short of a load, people who are a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal, etc. These are the people that make you laugh, shake your head and say, “only in America!”

-Down here on the farm in Arkansas, there are 2 young men on the cleaning crew that are just out of high school. Their nicknames are “Peanut” and “The Mopper.” Peanut is responsible for sweeping up peanuts, and The Mopper is responsible for, well, mopping. He’ll mop anything from spilled Coke to the most disturbing thing you can imagine in a public restroom. Both of these guys are hard workers, and they will do anything to help out a friend, but they are also prime examples of people who just ain’t right.

-Peanut and The Mopper are terrific story tellers. Each one will do anything to one-up the other. This means some of their story details are fabricated and others are exaggerated. This also means that the rest of us get to hear some fantastically absurd tales.

-Let’s start with Peanut. Peanut is 18 years old, he has 3 or 4 girlfriends; he has a football scholarship to Ohio State and will soon be playing quarterback there; and on the baseball diamond, he has thrown 2 no-hitters and hit over .400 in every season he’s ever played. Now I hate to be a skeptic, but Peanut doesn’t exactly have the body type of what we would call an “athlete.” He slipped up one night and admitted he will actually be attending a local college to earn his degree in Facility Management…but his baseball stats are legit.

-Personally, I am most excited about Peanut’s upcoming wedding. First of all, I just feel bad for his other girlfriends, because legally, there can only be one Mrs. Peanut. Anyway, Peanut is going to get married right here at the baseball park before a game sometime in August or September. He insists that the six interns here will be the groomsmen, and he also wants us to clear our schedules for that night, because we’re all going to “rock and roll and celebrate the wedding.” I asked him when we were all going to get fitted for tuxedo-shirts, but he quickly answered that it wasn’t going to be like that… “It’s going to be an easy-going country wedding. There ain’t going to be any overly-nice outfits, and George Strait is going to sing instead of some piano man playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’ when she walks down the aisle.” Let me tell you something folks…if this wedding happens, I’m going to take more pictures than the paparazzi at a Britney Spears cocaine party. I can NOT wait. Peanut better not be stringing me along with another one of his wild stories. That boy just ain’t right.

-Now to The Mopper. His age is uncertain. He usually responds with “I’m old enough.” This is quite an unsettling response when you think about it. Is he old enough to drink? Is he old enough to kick butt? Is he old enough to enter adult movie stores? What exactly is he ‘old enough’ to do?! The Mopper is truly a good friend, and he will absolutely go to the ends of the Earth to help a friend in need. However, he is a crafty business man, and you better watch yourself when it comes to making deals with him. He caught me admiring his Dale Earnhardt watch one day last month, and he said. “You like this number 3 watch don’t you?” I responded, “Absolutely. How much would it cost me to take it off of your hands?” That day, he told me he paid 20 dollars for it. I told him I’d think about it. Two weeks later I asked him again…he said he paid 320 dollars for it that time. I told him I couldn’t make the deal. Three days later I asked him again…he said he paid 60 dollars for it. Although I could probably get the same watch with a Coca-Cola proofs of purchase mail-in offer, I told him I’d think about it.

-The Mopper knows some important people, and he has traveled to exotic locations around the country. He has dated the daughters of governors in Florida, Arkansas, and Texas. When a game-day employee accused The Mopper of being gay, he promptly responded, “If I was gay, then why do I have 2 ex-wives and 4 children?” The employee promptly responded with “What are all of their names?” The Mopper was ready. He said, “I don’t remember.”

-The Mopper has been surfing in Malibu, and he has partied with Hef at the Playboy Mansion. He has a second job as a repo man and he always packs a pistol in case things get nasty. He’s been around, and he’s one tough customer. He must also be an excellent driver, because we once got out of the ballpark at 1 AM, and he went to Midland, Texas right after to repossess a truck from a convicted felon. He made it back to work the next day at 8 AM. That’s impressive seeing as how Midland is a 10-hour drive one way. When we pointed this out, he did what he always does; he lowered his head and let out a quiet giggle before gathering himself and saying, “Oh well.” That fella just ain’t right.

-Do you know folks who “just ain’t right?” I bet you do. Aren’t they great? Seriously, they keep up our spirits and they keep us laughing. I wish more people were just not right.

Dwight D. Eisenhower: Friend or Foe?

-We are fast approaching the official beginning of summer and the beginning of the vacation season. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band said it best in their 1987 country hit "Fishin' in the Dark." As the song goes, there's a "lazy yellow moon coming up tonight, shining through the trees. The crickets are singing, and the lightning bugs are floating on the breeze. Baby get ready."

-I've talked to several friends who are planning their summer get-a-ways across the highways of America. That's why today's topic is the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways! For those of you who have big plans, I am jealous, and I hope you have terrific summer vacations! Due to my poor decision to work in professional baseball, I am unable to take a summer vacation, but I'm not bitter at all. I mean, you may have to siphon fuel from your neighbor, or rob a bank, or make change in the church offering plate to combat gas prices, but I hope you have a great time!!!

-Anyway, back to the Dwight D. Eisenhower NSIDH. At first it may seem as American as could be, but I'm going to explain why it's not all it's cracked up to be.

-According to Mr. Wik E. Pedia PhD, the Dwight D. Eisenhower highway system is actually a separate system within the National Highway System. We're dealing with a lot of systems here. The entire system has a total length of 46,387 miles. Dannnnng! It is both the longest highway system in the world and the biggest public works project in the history of the world. This is why we love the interstate system--it's big, it's efficient, and it helped put folks to work when it was constructed. It also keeps folks working now with year-round maintenance! Man I love construction! Nothing beats work zone speed limits, pot holes, and orange signs!

-If you wanted to, you could hop on I-40 in Wilmington or the Triangle and drive all the way to Barstow, California. If you do drive to California, for goodness sake, watch out for hippies.

-Many of us take "The System" for granted. It wasn't always as easy to get from point A to point B. "The System" helps us get to work Monday through Friday, and it helps us visit family and friends Friday night through Sunday afternoon.

-Now I'm going to tell you why you should take it for granted. One of UNC's finest graduates and one of the best journalists in history, the late great Charles Kuralt said it best with one of his most witty and sadly accurate quotes."Thanks to the interstate highway system, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything."

-That is my biggest complaint with Dwight D's baby. "The System" seriously hampers the individualism and regional culture of this great nation. When someone drives through North Carolina, they need to see countless Carolina flags flying on the porches of it's great citizens; they need to see the rolling hills and quiet little barns that dot the countryside; they need to see Christmas lights strung along the porches of houses in August; they need to see mullet heads jumping dirt piles on a quiet Saturday afternoon; they need to see un-supervised children playing full-fledged basketball games on roll-out basketball goals in the middle of the street; they need to see yard sales with everything you need from circa 1970 leisure suits to Dale Earnhardt Zippo lighters; and they need to see deer…lots and lots of deer that for some reason just don't see anything threatening about something loud and bright coming in their direction at 60 miles per hour.

-If you stay on the major highways, you just don't see the real America. You see Anytown, USA. Anytown, USA consists of green sign after green sign after blue sign after mile marker with an Applebee's over there and a Wal-Mart over here.

-Last summer I got the opportunity of a lifetime to go on a cross-country road trip from Billings, Montana across the northern US border, past the great lakes, and back down to Raleigh, North Carolina. I was with my brother, Brad and his two friends Jake and Alex. We needed to get from Billings to Chicago, IL in 4 days. We had to decide if we would take the interstates or the country roads. We decided on country roads, and I couldn't have been happier with the results. We were absolutely amazed by the beautiful mountains in Big Sky Country, and the sunflower fields in North Dakota, and the lavish lakeside communities along Lake Michigan. "The System" would not have allowed us to see all these things.

-"The System" is a fine example of an Americana Monday paradox. It is undeniably American, but it is also undeniably un-American. Some days I hate "The System." Some days I dig through my small coin collection just to look at my silver dollars with the head of Dwight David on them just so I can say "Thanks D.D. You da' man." Let's meet back here next week, and go Diamond Heels!

Midget Wrestling: Small men; big time fun

- I hope your Memorial Day weekend was fantastic! It's truly hard to top the excitement that surrounds the un-official beginning of summer, but we'll try to do it this week with..drum roll please…midget wrestling. I'd like to start by saying that I have absolutely no intention of offending small people, midgets, or their families with this column. I'm simply relaying a truly American and awesome sport that I knew little about before I got here…There are approximately 2 million puns I could make in this week's column, but I'm going to be the bigger man and keep it clean.

- I first heard about "professional" midget wrestling when I moved to Arkansas. Professional is a term that we should use loosely here, because these fellas ain't exactly breaking the bank. The name of the organization is the MWO which stands for Midget World Order. These wrestlers get paid to appear and beat the heck out of each other at sporting venues, bars, and anywhere else party people go in the South.

- Apparently the baseball team overe here in Little Rock has been bringing midget wrestling to the stadium each summer for 14 years! I'm not sure how much each appearance costs, but it's a small price to pay for the all the excitement and joy that midget wrestling brings. The fans here already come to the ballpark on Friday nights to drink some beers and have fun, but the Friday night that midget wrestling came to town was unbelievable. We broke an attendance record with 8,868 folks in the stands, and I think each one enjoyed at least 3 frosty beverages. Right off the bat it was apparent that something special was going down the night the midgets came to town.

- The crew got to meet the two championship contenders about 2 hours before the highly anticipated match. It's amazing how intimidating two midget wrestlers can be. There are 6 guys on our crew, but all of us were too afraid to ask for a picture with them. We convinced the general manager Pete Laven to ask for us. "Beautiful Bobby" and "Little Kato" were very friendly and agreed to take the picture with us. There's something about uncomfortable situations that bring out the best in me…As the two championship contenders walked over after agreeing to pose with us, my mouth spit out the following sentence: "Thanks guys. You're cool with this right?" They handled this off-handed comment pretty well. They didn't say anything, but they looked at me as if to say, "If you patronize us with one more idiotic comment we're going to beat you. Now look at the camera and smile short non-midget boy."

- Later we got to meet the referee. I forget his name, but he had forearms the size of my legs, and they were covered in sweet tattoos. He also had a long ponytail that could kill…It was enough to make Steven Seagal blush.

- As we finished setting up the ring, I noticed that several of the Arkansas Travelers AND the Northwest Arkansas Natural players were coming out of their respective clubhouses early, and they were bringing chairs. They started to set them up around the ring, and there was some friendly fighting over prime viewing spots. This is when I realized that something truly American and awesome was about to happen. The baseball players are use to being the show, but on this date they took a back seat to watch and enjoy the real entertainment of the nigh: "Beautiful Bobby" vs. "Little Kato" for the MWO championship belt.

- "Beautiful Bobby" is in his 40s and his wrestling days are numbered. He's a fan favorite and he's constantly battling back from "career threatening" back and leg injuries. "Little Kato" is the young hotshot who does anything to win. He cheats, he hits below the belt, and he stinks. It was a classic Good vs. Evil battle just like the gunfights John Wayne got himself into in his timeless westerns that I love so much.

-"Beautiful Bobby" had the fans behind him throughout the best of three championship series. "Little Kato" constantly flipped off the crowd and yelled at them in response to their taunts and jeers. Long story short, "Little Kato" took the first match and "Beautiful Bobby" took the last two matches to take the championship belt. "Little Kato" was finished off with a trash can lid to the head and a body slam on top of the 20 gallon barrel. The players went nuts, the fans went nuts, and I went nuts. A great historical American theme presented itself again: Good defeated Evil in a classic battle. "Little Kato" took the slow and disappointing walk back to the showers.

- "Beautiful Bobby" was given a true champions exit with a ride in the ballpark golf cart. He put on his shiny robe and held his championship belt high as he rode around the warning track waving to his loyal fans. The joyous fans didn't know how much pain "Beautiful Bobby" was in. His knees ached, his joints were swollen, and the pain in his back made it hard to stand up straight. He stood tall for the fans because he knew how much they needed a hero during these hard times…If you were able to get close on that Friday afternoon and take a good look at Bobby's face, you'd see his smile looked out of place; if you looked closer it'd be easier to trace the tracks of his tears…The golf cart puttered slowly up the stadium ramp into the shadows created by the fading summer sun. I don't know where "Beautiful Bobby" is today, and I don't know if he'll ever come back to this town. That may have been his last fight. But as long as there's a need for justice out here in the West, something tells me "Beautiful Bobby" will always be ready. Here's to you "B.B." You're a true American.

- MUFFIN MATTERS UPDATES:

-1. In regards to a previous debate about which is more American; Golden Corral or CiCi's Pizza: I stand by my verdict that Golden Corral is more American, but a Golden Corral over here in Little Rock, AR is of concern to me. This particular one has only one toilet…if you eat at Golden Corral often you know how un-American, nay, in-humane this is.

-2. A co-worker of mine said something so ridiculous and un-American that I had to post it all over the world-wide-net-web. He shall remain un-named because I'm feeling nice today. Anyway, there's another co-worker of ours who is a female and has the nickname Pocahontas. There has been a creeping suspicion that Pocahontas and this guy have a thing for one another. So, some of us started calling him John Smith one day, to which he replied, "Who is John Smith?" We laughed until we found out he was serious. This guy didn't know who John flippin' Smith was. Are you kidding me? UN-AMERICAN.