OK, OK, so I’m late, I was on time LAST month!
For years now, friends and co-workers have been talking about NASCAR and they are always surprised that I have a less than zero interest in it. They tell me how great it is and they talk for hours about their drivers and who won last week’s race. I have long pondered how much intellect it takes to watch someone drive in a circle for 3 or 4 hours and get excited when it’s all over. I don’t get it and these people are supposed to be my contemporaries?
The “Is it a sport” rule has changed and it is now MUCH simpler. Basically, if I can do it at near-pro levels, it is not a sport. I’m fat and have been out of shape for years and years now. Any activity that I could compete at the top levels in can not be a sport. Yes, I am now allowing soccer to be a sport. Running, jumping, hitting things with sticks, sports. It takes an ‘athlete’ to play a sport. Chess is not a sport, it is a game. NASCAR is not a sport because I can drive in a circle. They tell me that it’s sooo tough and it takes a toll on the body and there’s skill involved. OK, so it’s hot and there’s a lot of passing and close traffic. Anyone who has driven through Miami is now qualified to run in the Daytona 500? I spent 6 hours (Noon-6p) yesterday doing lawn work. Anyone that does that regularly would laugh at me; but for me it was hot, sweaty, miserable work. Is driving on a speedway any worse? They wear cool-suits in those cars anyway!
So, I normally take a pass on the NASCAR conversation when it comes up but today I have figured it out. I have figured out the boom in the NASCAR culture.
Teresa sent me to WAL-MART today to pick up a few things. She and Zephyr were up to something so I knew this was a test. I had to get in and out of the store and pick up only what was on the list or they’d nail me when I got back home.
So I’m standing in the front aisle and trying to get past all the shop-zombies so I can get what I need and get out. That’s when the NASCAR/WAL-MART connection hit me.
Who shops at WAL-MART? Rednecks
Who watches NASCAR? Rednecks
I got the poster board easily enough but there’s trouble ahead. I pull a hard left and speed up to get past the welfare mom and her sniveling frog-spawn children. I have to cut back in to the right to avoid the little old lady with her walker who is bitching about not being able to find the hairnets. I see the aisle I need but I’m blocked by an entire FAMILY of fat fucks on the motor-scooters. They’re not crippled; they’re too fat to walk through a store! I have to circle around the aisle and come in the back side to pick up the prescription and the Visene. Lightbulbs, where the hell are the lightbulbs? Oh man, all the way on the other side of the store! I find an empty(ish) aisle and I run to the other side of the store. As I approach the turn, another shopper is blocking my way so I fake left and turn right, HA! I got past him and now I have the light bulbs. I snag a case of water as I pass by without stopping and head for the exit. I’m picking a lane and memorizing where everyone else is in line so I can see if I picked the right line. It looks like the dork in the plaid vest might finish before me and he wasn’t in line when I got here. In front of me, the trailer-park-queen with the dirty thong hanging out of her fat ass is trying to cash a check. Oh man, looks like I lost, they’ll need a manager for this one. But wait! My register lady IS the manager! Cool! Plaid-boy is still in line but closing on me fast. He only has 2 things; Life cereal and a 6-pack of Tab. They still make Tab? I’m putting my stuff on the conveyor and he’s still waiting on the brood-mare in front of him to wrangle all of her “little miracles” up. 2 of them are attacking the soda-pop cooler with toy pirate swords. 2 more are playing with the glasses in the optometry shop and the last one is missing but I guess it happens all the time based on her level of concern. “Brandon, you go find Devon and tell him we leavin without him if he don’t come on.” All this time, the clerk is waiting on her to sign with the electronic stylus. She leaves and plaid-boy begins to check out. Oh shit, he’s got cash. The girl is confused as to why he’s hand her a Ten, a One, a Nickel and a Penny when the bill was only $6.06. HAHAHA the American school system strikes again! She counts back his change (in ones!) right as I am sliding my card to pay for my goods. I’m checked out and plaid-boy is on my heels. We are side by side as we approach the doors. I pick up the pace and push the cart to the red-line. He pauses to put his sunglasses on and out I go into the parking lot.
Ain’t NASCAR great?
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