Mississippi: More Than Just Rickets

Chapter 18 in the now rocketing along "Know Limpy's States!" The excitement line starts over there!

I wrote that last week. This clearly isn't rocketing anywhere.

Mississippi is the 20th state to enter the Union, joining up on December 10, 1817. Prior to that it had been explored by Hernando de Soto for Spain in 1540, claimed by the French in 1699 followed by their construction of the first European settlement in Mississippi, Natchez, in 1706. "Natchez" being French for "Good Christ it's humid here". Then the French and Indian War took place and Great Britain took over until handing it over to the US in 1783, and then finally Spain ceded what they called "Spanish West Florida" to the US, including parts of the Mississippi coast, in 1819. Basically, over a bit less than 300 years three European powers poked around Mississippi, decided they didn't want it, then left it with us, where they found it in the first place. Making Mississippi the equivalant to the leftovers in the back of your refrigerator. The way back.

The name "Mississippi" is derived from, from, uh, hmmm, let's see here,...oh, how about that. Seems that there's a river with the same name that makes up the western border of the state.
Who'd have thunk it? Probably not the students in Mississippi, considering they've come in last in achievement in math and science, (2007), out of all the states. On the plus side, they did have a top 50 finish among all the states in 2004 for academic achievement. Of course, it was 50th, but still, that's top 50 bitch!

For the record, the little pansy Yankee fucker making fun of Mississippi's lack of academic accomplishments, ("time to count to twenny-wun, ya'll. Drop yer coveralls!"), just spelled "achievement" twice with an "r". Just thought it was fair that you knew that.

Mississippi is not without its fair share of academic type accomplishments, counting Tennesse Williams and Eudora Welty among its residents, (former residents anyway), and of course, one of my favorites, William Faulkner, pictured here
after a strenuous afternoon of not doing sit-ups. (Line somewhat stolen from wwtdd.com in reference to Richie Sambora. I'd link but can't due to our workplace security system. So type it your self. Obviously, NSFW.)

Side-note about Faulkner. In high school I was in the English honors program, which in my high school meant we didn't color in the same books we read. One of the books we had to read was Faulkner's "The Hamlet", which as I recall had something to do with an unsavory character named Snopes slowly taking over the town and eventually getting to have sex with a hot little number who may have been somewhat retarded. I never really got what the whole thing was about and read enough to pass the obligatory quiz. Years later, we lived near a bookstore that sold used books. One day I was in there thumbing through the pornos, (well, I was doing something in the pornos), and decided that I needed to improve my literature collection beyond stories that start off "I never believed your stories were true but...", so I wound up buying The Hamlet and another Faulkner story, "Light in August" I read them both and after doing so, I beseech someone, anyone, to tell me what the fuck the point is for "Light in August" Towards the end there's a passage where the main, (I think) character is hallucinating, (I think), and there's a mention in there of something or someone passing by ike 'the light in August', and I'm pretty sure it must have been important because the title of the book was right fucking there, but for the life of me, I could not figure it out.

And I just read a summary on wikipedia and now I'm even more confused. Apparently the title has something to do with the special quality of light in Mississippi during August. Great. Just fucking great.

There are 2,910,540 people in Mississippi, most of whom are kin and few of whom can see their toes without the use of a mirror. Mississippi is the most overweight state in the nation, with 30% of adults and 22.8% of kids qualifying as obese. Again, in the interest of full disclosure, if I lived in an area where the diet staples were fried chicken, pie and biscuits n' gravy, well, let's just say 31% of the population would be obese. I'm not kidding myself here.

Missippi is known as the Magnolia State. Apparently stealing the idea from their neighbor's state flower. Guess what the state flower is? That's right, a rose. Nah, just kidding, it's the Magnolia.

Mississippi is composed entirely of lowlifes...oh, wait, lowlands, and the highest point in the state is atop towering 806' tall Woodall Mountain, which is described as being in "the foothills" of the Cumberland Mountains. A more accurate description might be "at the bottom of the Cumberland Mountains".

IF YOU'RE IN MISSISSIPPI YOU SHOULD: I'm not sure, as I've never been. Apparently, however, "leaving" is a favored option, with Mississippi a key staging point in two "Great Migrations" of southerners heading north. However, if you simply must stay, Mississippi's offical list of things to do suggests Mardi Gras season starting in January, The Great Backyard Bird Count in February, (residents are reminded not to "count" the birds via shotgun), and of course, the Gautier Mullett Festival in October.
I'm growing mine out now!

MISS MISSISSIPPI LOOKS LIKE THIS:
I dunno, she looks a little too stuck up to take to the Mullett Festival and see how many crawfish and beer she can put away before the next band takes the stage.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Other than knowing a really cool lesbian who happens to live there, none. Although once when I was in New Orleans I stuck my foot in the Mississippi River, so that's gotta count for something.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

UP NEXT: North Carolina. Fuck Duke!

Editor's Note: I deleted the last post so that this one would go to the front. For some reason it came up below it and that was pissing me off. If anyone knows how to move posts around, let me know.

Louisiana: Hey, They Make Penicillin Out Of Mold, So Quit Giving Us Shit

Chapter 17 in the "I-can't-believe-he's-still-doing-this" novella, "Know Limpy's States". And just so you all know, I'm doing this without the book I usually use. Instead, I'm relying on Wikipedia for this one. Because if you can't trust information on the internet derived from anyone with the ability to type, what can you trust?

Louisiana is the 18th state to enter the Union, being admitted on April 30th, 1812. Prior to that, Louisiana was part of the French claim to land in North America. But, in a little known part of American history, (little known if you go to my son's school, where I just had to explain to a 4th grader who won WWII!!!) (We did), Thomas Jefferson purchased an enormous swath of land from Napoleon, a short guy with a temper who happened to rule France. Jefferson, who knew a thing or two about the French, was concerend about Nappy's plans to start colonizing the Louisiana area, as would anyone faced with a sudden influx of French. Jefferson offered to buy New Orleans and some land along the Mississippi for $2 million. Which is probably about what you could get New Orleans for today. The French, from whom my wife apparently got her negotiating skills, responded by asking, "Hey, how much will you pay for the whole thing!?", thereby allowing them to get some spare cash, and, more importantly, avoiding the logistics of fighting a war and their inevitable retreat in the face of three guys armed with slingshots.

Jefferson, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, (He died broke. For real yo'. You can look it up. I'd post it, but this is about state's, not Presidents. Do some work yourself for Christ's sake!), agreed to part with $15 million of other people's money for a huge piece of land no one had ever seen. Except the Indians who had lived there for centuries, but as I think we've already established here, no one gave a shit about that.

Little know fact I just learned and since it's from Wikipedia may be true or just made up: Napoleon had the money passed through Dutch and English banks using an English banker. As a reult France only got about $8.8 million out of the deal. Napoleon used that money from English bankers to finance his wars against England. Which later led to the collapse of the French empire and Napoleon's exile and death. Meanwhile, America more than doubled in size AND we got New Orleans. America: Fuck yeah!

Louisiana is known as The Bayou State. Because there are a lot of bayous in it. Bayous are useful for flood control. Many of them have been drained to allow for additional development. This is a good idea that could never, ever backfire. They're also apparently filled with girls who look like Kim Basinger in her prime, which is one more reason to keep them around. Louisiana is also called the Pelican State, Child of the Mississippi, The Creole State, Sportsman's Paradise, and The Sugar State. The state motto is "Union, Justice and Confidence", although I always thought it was "Show Us Your Tits!"

Louisiana is the only state that follows the Napoleonic Code, a form of French law based on Roman law established by Napoleon to simplify French law. I believe it's largely based on settling disputes by seeing who can eat the most oysters at one sitting, but I could be wrong about that. Since Louisiana is the only state that follows it no one else can understand it or get admitted to the Bar as a matter of courtesy. Fortunately, Louisiana will allow pretty much anyone into the other bars in the state, and that's really all we attorneys care about.

As of 2000 there were 4,468,976 people in Louisiana. As of 2006 there were considerably less. The population has dropped an estimated 4%+ since Hurricane Katrina roared through New Orleans and we all got to see what happens when you combine a Category 5 hurricane with a city 8' below sea level and the federal government. Nothing good.

The Louisiana state bird is the Brown Pelican. Here we see two of them contemplating life, the universe and everything. Truly birds of beauty and grace.

The state flower is the Magnolia. Not the crappy steel ones either.

The highest point in Louisiana is not in New Orleans. A somewhat crucially overlooked fact lately. Nope, New Orleans is actually the lowest point in the state, 8 feet below sea level. The highest point is Driskill Mountain, towering 535' above sea level. Or just slightly higher than the dam down the street from my house. Seriously, who are you kidding calling that a mountain? You people must get winded climbing two flights of stairs.

IF YOU'RE IN NEW ORLEANS YOU SHOULD: Do nothing other than go to New Orleans, even if it's still kind of damp and smells funny. I've been there a number of time, always on business unfortunately, (although I still got drunk), and it's simply one of the best cities in the world, even if I do think rebuilding a city below sea level and subject to massive hurricanes may not be the best idea I've ever heard. The food, the bars, the people, the sky-high murder rate! Man, you'll be on your toes and energized from the minute you arrive to the minute you leave. I've never been to Mardi Gras, but I'm told that unless you're 18-24 and think it's fun to throw up on yourself, it's somewhat overrated. But the French Quarter
is awesome year round. There's nothing better than grabbing abeer and wandering the streets, stopping outside of bars to listen to various jazz, zydeco or blues bands cranking out music. Well, getting laid afterwards would have been nice, but my spoilsport company wouldn't fly my wife down with me. Probably fairly smart of them actually.

MISS LOUISIANA LOOKS LIKE THIS:
For some reason I can't get the link to the standard pictures of the miss America contestants I'd been using, so Ms. Dupont here has a distinct advantage over our previous contestants, although her taste in hairstyles is questionable at best. Still, call me!


LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: As noted above, I've been to New Orleans several times, each time on business. At the time I was working for a firm that specialized in toxic tort defense work, so we did a lot of work with chemical companies. Which New Orleans has a lot of, accounting for the odd smells, (well some of them anyway. I'm pretty sure the smell outside of Pat O'Brien's was urine), and amazing sunsets. Oh wait, that's an oil rig fire.

At any rate, I'd occasionally have to go down there to either review thousands of documents or else sit in a room and watch opposing counsel review documents and make sure they didn't steal anything. Interesting fact, you can do both without much sleep and while hungover. Consequently I've spent a good deal of time eating in some of the better restaurants, (expense accounts for major petrochemical companies are ridiculous. And may account for why I'm paying $4.05 a gallon for regular unleaded.), and staying at the House of Blues until 3 am. And it's great. I'd go back in a second. I hope they rebuild the city, even if it doesn't make a damn bit of sense. It's just too great a city to lose.

But maybe they should leave some parts alone and reestablish those mangrove swamps on the shore.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No. I'd like to fix that though. Sure, I could have picked someone up while I was down there, but once you wander by a bar with a sign that says "You won't believe they're not women", you start to get a little wary.

Next Up: I'm not sure, since the book is at home, but based on our being in the southeast, and my mastery of the alphabet, I do believe we may be going to visit Syd! Pack some heat. And yes, I said "pack"

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

By Limpy

We went to Florida.
















Oh alright, since you asked...

We went to Florida and spent two days at Disney, then went across the state to the west coast and spent a few days with friends. The Disney trip was for the kids and my wife, who has always wanted to take her kids to Disney when they were 9 and 7. Seriously, she told me this when she dragged me to that over-priced shit-ho..., uh, I mean Disney, back in 1996, two years before we even started having kids. Yes, I should have run then, but the thing is, she's really good in bed.

So the kids having advanced chronologically far enough, this year by God and by damn, we were going to Disney.

You know that stupid commercial where the two little kids are running to the window while Cinderella's pumpkin carriage comes up their window, and their parents are downstairs on the computer discovering that they can go to Disney for $1,600 for six days? I'm not sure where that family is staying, but I'm guessing Georgia, because that sure as hell wasn't what we paid, although it was close, which was odd since we were there for 2 days and nights!

We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, or Fort Wilderness, or Something-With-Wilderness-In-The-Title. We got one room for the four of us. The kids got a bunk bed. We got a queen-size bed. There was a balcony with no lights outside, so it was useless after dark. We went there right after the airport, so we didn't do much other than hit the pool, which was pretty much bathwater, and, we were to discover later, occasionally home to ducks. Dinner was, to put it bluntly, wretched. I'm pretty sure that the "ribs" I had were leftovers from McDonald's latest attempt to revive the "McRib"
sandwich, (when will they learn?), and they'd clearly been microwaved.

On the other hand, the place was eerily clean, the staff was friendly in a brainwashed kind of way, and the breakfasts were damn good. I did remark that if one more person told me to have a magical day, I was going to kill them. I think they bug the rooms, because I never heard it again. So when we checked out I told the clerk to "Have a magical day".

The next day , we went to The Magic Kingdom itself, or as I called it, "The Happiest Fucking Place On Earth", for a day of fun and frivolity. We did get to go there an hour before anyone else, so for a brief period of time we were able to get on rides pretty quickly, and without having to deal with the unwashed masses who weren't staying in the Magic Kingdom itself. Of course, they saved several hundred dollars over me, so who's the dumb-ass on that one? Exactly. Me.

We spent the entire day in the park, during which time we learned that neither of our kids likes roller coasters. Fortunately there's only three in the whole park, and one of them, Space Mountain, broke down three times that day, so even I decided it wasn't worth waiting for. The kids did run all over the Swiss Family Robinson tree fort half-a dozen times, and the guy we got for The Jungle Cruise did a great job,
bashing Disney several times, quoting Willy Wonka and at one point asking if we knew how the ride could be any worse, before starting to sing "It's A Small World". If they allowed tipping that kid would've been rich.

We ended the day having hit every single ride in the park, (of which there really aren't that many), and waiting an ungodly amount of time to meet Princess Ariel
(for my daughter you pervs), only to get to the front of the line and be told that there would be a short break because Princess Ariel needed a "swimming" break. I'm pretty sure that was code for "needed to go out back and smoke half a pack of Marlboros before dealing with more sweaty kids", and I can't say I blamed her.

For me, the highlight of the day had to be when we were standing in line for the Peter Pan ride. As we waited, we saw one of the ubiquitous, (SAT word alert!), white heron-type birds come flying by with a small bird frantically flapping its wings from the heron's beak. The heron landed and, while a woman who clearly never watched Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom ordered the heron to "leave that bird alone", ate the thing in two gulps and then flew off. Happiest Place on Earth indeed.

The next day we splashed around in the pool before breakfast. There we were somewhat surprised to confront four ducks swimming in the pool. Let me say that the animals around Fort Wilderness are pretty damn tame. I suspect that they may actually be on the payroll. I almost stepped on a rabbit that wandered across the walking path at the same time as I was going along. The rabbit hardly seemed fazed, just sort of glanced at me and hopped over to the grass and commenced nibbling. The ducks were swimming in the pool and you could get pretty close to them before they'd sort of turn away and slowly paddle off. A little odd, but I figure before long the heron'll get them.

We checked out after breakfast and drove from Orlando to Fort Meyers. Took about 2.5 hours and has to be one of the dullest rides ever. There are no hills to break up the monotony, and even the slightest curve is cause for celebration. And despite the real estate problems, it seems the entire area is under construction. For christ's sake people, you can't sell the property you already have! Why are you building more!? And you have no water as it is!!!!!!

We spent the next 4 days staying with friends. One of them can cook really, really well. Dinners the next three days were marinated and grilled rib-eye steaks that could have been cut with a fork; ribs that could not be moved from the grill to the plate without falling apart, (she said the secret was that she made them "with love", which led me to a brief and disturbing recollection of the "love" Phollower puts in his cooking. Then I ate them anyway); and pasta with home-made meatballs and two kinds of sausage. The fourth night we took them out to dinner, depsite my suggestion that we stay in and just pay her to cook, since it would've been better.

The only downer for me was that a local restaurant had closed two weeks earlier and they had White-Chocolate Banana Cream pie available. In past years I would go buy an entire pie and then bring it back and slowly devour it over the vacation. I was seriously bummed that I couldn't do it this year. Fuck you chain restaurants with crappy deserts!

Most of our days were spent in the ocean, where a manatee swam within 10 feet of my soon. You can imagine the glee that imparts in a nine-year-old, getting to watch a large dark shape glide by in the ocean. He spent most of the rest of the day comfortably ensconced on land. All I saw was a big dark blob in the water, and I was probably a hundred yards up the beach at the time, looking for gopher turtles. I found three.

After the beach we'd stay by the pool and, as mentioned before, eat too much. I did rent a kayak and go up and down the Estero River. I saw a river otter not six feet away from me eating a fish.
It looked at me twice before deciding to hop back in the creek and swim away. He went in the same direction I was headed, and I swear he was playing with me. I would lose sight of him around a corner, then clear that bend and see his head poking out of the water. He'd see me and then dart off again. Kept up the low speed chase for about 20 minutes when he must have become bored and disappeared into some weeds to the side of the river.

The last day we went to one of our favorite places, Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary,
an Audobon run area that has a 2 mile long boardwalk and tons of neat stuff to look at, from Anole lizards to alligators. It's the really dry season in Florida, so the swamp was drained. We still saw a large female gator, (I know it was female because the guide who came up while we were lookin at it told me. It's not like I was going to hop the rail and go check), and a couple of turtles, some glowing spiders, a Lubbers grasshopper which are pretty big, very slow, and very colorful. We also saw a bunch of neat birds, although none of the wading brids since the water hadn't arrived yet, and killed many deer fly. I'm not sure the Audobon people approve of that, but fuck them, those things hurt.

As to my son punching another kid in the face, here's the story. The couple we stay with live next door to their niece and nephew. Who coincidentally are roughly the same age as my son and daughter. Works out pretty well, especially when we can stick 'em in front of video games and then take oursleves outside for a beer or four. But the nephew has been taking karate, and my son took karate for awhile, getting to the blue belt level, (which in his case I think meant "went long enough for a series of Dad's checks to get him a blue belt"), before getting bored. So this kid has a whole set of sparring equipment: gloves, head-gear, face masks and shin and foot pads. And he asks my son if he wants to spar. So my son agrees and they each proceed to put on more gear than your average football player. Half an hour later they're ready to go. The nephew annouces something along the lines of, "This is my tiger/monkey style" and proceeds to start waving his hands in various patterns and making the appropriate noises. My son watches him do this for about 20 seconds and then punches him right in the face(mask). God that was funny.

Other than that I'd have to give the nephew the decision, but they seemed to have fun. I did have to edxplain to my wife that this is how guys interact, and that letting them whale on each other, (albeit while wearing enough padding to absorb a wayward skydiver), would not lead to either of them becoming a serial killer.

All in all, not a bad time. And I never have to go back to Disney again.

Cat's In The Cradle

Before I get into my wonderful trip to Florida, I'm going to talk about my son. Because I am very proud of him. Last night was another in a series of Little League games over the last 4 years. But last night was also the first time that the little shit took the mound and pitched for his team. I can't quite explain how I felt watching him on the mound, fidgeting with his glove, realizing that everyone was watching him and still pitching. I could hear other parents cheering for him, and I could hear the coaches from the other team tell their players to get their fingers out of their noses and watch the new pitcher warm-up, because "this kid's throwing fast." I can't explain how it felt to watch him throw to his first batter and...

Holy shit did he just hit that kid?

Yep.

Long story longer, we played a game last ight and our starting pitcher, to put it mildly, couldn't hit the water if he fell out of a fucking boat. Thanks Kevin Costner! He wasn't helped by our infield either, a usually reliable crew that suddenly morphed into a bunch of ham-handed drunks who couldn't catch Hepatitis from Pam Anderson's sheets. So my son was called in to relieve him with the two on and one out and three runs in. Our league has a mercy rule that only allows five runs an inning, so there wasn't a lot of pressure. He walked the bases loaded, then threw a passed ball to allow a run in. He did try to run in to cover the plate, but tripped and fell on his face. Thankfully, any swears he may have said, (and he knows 'em all), were muffled by the grass. Then he struck a kid out before giving up a final walk after going to 3-2 on the last kid, ending the inning.

We sent him out for the fourth inning. He promptly drilled the first kid in the elbow, resulting in an audible THWACK! sound. The next kid up was the biggest kid on either team. The first pitch knocked him down, coming in high and tight, and I began to wonder if his great uncle had been telling him Bob Gibson stories when I wasn't listening. The kid got back up and swung at the next three pitches while keeping one foot in the dugout. The next two kids grounded out after realizing that they needed to start swinging, because the new kid was throwing strikes.

And that was it. There's a 40 pitch limit on every pitcher, otherwise they can't pitch in the next game. You can go to 75 pitches, but then the kid can't pitch for at least four days and must miss one game, even if it's 6 days away. Little League: Sucking the fun out of baseball for years!

So that was it. He made a couple of nice plays at 3B and at the plate did what he usually does, which is swing and miss, but I was very proud of him. Sentimental even.

I'm going to go kill a hooker tonight so that tomorrow we can get back to the usual deparvity around here.

The Return

I've returned from our family vacation to Disney and other parts of Florida. I'll bring you up to date on the highlights of said trip at a later date, as I've returned to a mountain of work that I need to get through. I'm thinking fire might be the most effective way to catch up. This afternoon I've got a hearing to amp up for, then leap right back into the whirlwind that is Little League. I know where the field is where we're supposed to go, but we have to take some bizarre way to get there, because "the bridge is out". What the hell? The field's at an elementary school? What bridge?

Should be interesting.

Highlights of the Florida trip:

My son punches the neighbor kid in the face and doesn't get in trouble.
What it sounds like when a river otter eats.
Disney sucks.
Manatees prove anti-climactic.
And I'm sure I'll think of some other stuff that happened too.

Kentucky: They Shoot Horses Don't They?

Chapter 16 in the now-on-life-support "Know Limpy's States", and probably the runaway winner for the "Title In The Most Poor Taste" Well, it will be the runaway winner unless it breaks both its ankles. Then we'll just roll a couple of trucks in front of it and, well, see what happened Jimmy is that title got sent to a farm in another state where it can play with all the other titles forever and ever. -BANG!!-

Kentucky is the 15th state, entering the Union on June 1, 1792. Prior to that it was suburb of Virginia and was first populated by Daniel Boone, who established a settlement at Boonesborough, (no false modesty for Dan'l), shortly after a treaty with the Cherokee opened the area up to white-folk. And, as usually happens when white folk show up, there went the neighborhood.

Kentucky is know as "The Bluegrass State". This nickname is derived not from the color of the grass, which is in fact green, but from the bluish buds the grass produces in the spring, which make the meadows look blue. Especially if you're really, really high. I actually didn't make that part up, (well, except for the whole being high thing, but I've got some readers who could probably field test that), that's really where the "bluegrass" thing comes from. Looked it up and everything! And you guys thought I just mailed these in. With good reason actually.

Kentuxky is known for many things, such as bourbon,
but is probably best know for The Kentucky Derby. I'm told this is a horse race of some note. This year the winner was accorded many accolades, won over a million dollars, was draped with an enormous collar of roses, (which he then probably ate), and can look forward to spending his retirement on a farm, (no for real!), banging female horses all day every day.

The runner-up got shot.

I'm still working this in to a motivational speech to our Little League team. Should be a doozy.

The Derby is also famous for women wearing great big stupid hats
and everyone drinking mint juleps and, before the race, singing the state song, "My Old Kentucky Home (Has A Broke-Off Screen Door 'N A Car Up On Blocks Inna Front Yard)", which once included the lyrics "tis summer/The Darkies are gay", until 1986 or so when someone changed them. I've never been to the Derby, but I have to wonder what everyone did at that point in the song. Hum?

Kentucky is home to the aptly named Mammoth Cave, which at 340 miles is the second longest explored cave system in the world, right after Jenna Jameson.
Hey-O! No, it's actually the longest. Jenna's only 324 miles wide. I'd actually like to check that cave out. Hours spent wriggling around in a confined space with my face pushed into some odd smelling muck! What could be better. And, oh yeah, Mammoth Cave would probably be cool too. (Anyone who didn't see that coming should check themselves for a pulse)

There are 4,117,827 people in Kentucky. All of them root for the Kentucky Wildcats men's basketball team as though they fate of the Earth itslef depended on them making at least the Sweet Sixteen. Which, as has been proved over and over in recent years, it clearly does not. Only one of these people is Ashley Judd,
which is too bad. Wait, Kentucky has a hockey team!? About four of them are Wynonna Judd (on the right for the confused) .

The Kentucky state bird is the cardinal. And I can't believe this, but so far Kentucky is the only state with the cardinal as a state bird. and I was all set to blast them for their lack of originality too.

The state flower is Goldenrod. I think this was also the name of one of Jenna Jameson's co-stars. In case you're wondering, as far as I know Jenna is not in any way assoicated with the state of Kentucky. I made one crack about her and now I'm stuck with this. It's an unfortunate cycle, but it should clear up soon. Just like Jenna's...

DAMMIT!!!

The highest point in Kentucky is on Black Mountain, at 4,154' above sea level.

IF YOU'RE IN KENTUCKY YOU SHOULD: Well, I'd probably go poke around in the caves, (must...not...beat...joke), but I've never been to Kentucky and wouldn't really know. I have friend who grew up in Kentucky who tells me everyone should go to the Derby once in their lives. So far I'm progrssing well without it, but if I were to find myself in kentucky on the first Saturday in May I might wander over. Fort Knox is also in Kentucky. You could down a quart of bourbon and test the security there. Let me know how it works out.

MISS KENTUCKY LOOKS LIKE THIS: Apparently they avoid the sun in Kentucky.


EDITOR'S NOTE!!!!

And sometimes, before or after doing cocaine, getting drunk and making out with a Miss Teen USA contestant, Miss Kentucky looks like this



Tara Conner, Or she would if that were actually her in the picture. That's not Tara Conner in that photo. My bad. Apparently that's Katie Blair there in the middle, who Tara allegedly made out with at one point. But not in that picture. Which I'm still leaving up. Because I'm a perv.



LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: I know one person from Kentucky. He's not in a hurry to go back either. Other than that, none.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

Next up: Louisiana, Now 35% dryer!

Kentucky's Gonna Kill Me

Although given what I've written about the other states they're probably not all that upset that I'm stalled on there chapter. Assuming anyone in Kentucky actually has a computer.

As you know, thanks to my publicist and blogging conscience Tysgirl, yesterday was my birthday. I am now 39. Woo-hoo.

I spent the morning knocking off a couple of depositions, then went to the casino for some poker. I play $1-$2 no-limit Hold 'Em, which is a lot of fun to play and incredibly boring to listen to stories about, so I'll spare you any exciting tales of what I did in each situation based on the cards in my hand, on the table, and my own incredible powers of observation. All we need to say about that is that I was there for 4+ hours and lost about $60. I also found out you can get a 15 minute back rub from a professional masseuse for $20, which means I probably should have spent that $60 for 45 minutes of a back massage. Live and learn.

But the most interesting thing was watching the big guy named Brian who was sitting acrss from me the whole time. When I arrived the waiting list for a seat at a $1-$2 table was ten deep, so they opened a new table for the 10 of us. made me feel special. So I saw Brian in action from the time I sat down until the time I left. He told us early on that he'd been up for 30+ hours, had played in a tournament earlier in the week and was now playing cash games to kill time until his bus left, at about 8 pm, at which time he would hopefully pass out for the entire ride home.

Now here's the thing. If you're playing cards, they have waitresses that come around to the table about every 20 minutes, and they'll take your drink order and bring you the drink. AND IT'S FREE!!!! Whatever you order, it's free. You usually tip a buck to make sure she keeps coming back, but otherwise, whatever you want to drink, you can get for $1. I get water or juice, since my drunken card-playing would have us in the poor house in no time. I was sort of pissed off to discover, just as I was leaving, that you can get chocolate milkshakes too. I never even thought of that. I love chocolate milkshakes!! For $1 each I'dve probably put myself in a diabetic coma within two hours.

Brian, however, isn't as much a fan of water or milkshakes as he is off booze. During the 4+ hours I was there he must have had 8-10 shots of various forms of booze. Jack Daniels, Crown Royal, Southern Comfort, sterno, whatever he could think of, he'd order. And they'd bring it to him. The only rule they have is that you can only get one at a time. Which is pretty easy to deal with when you're going to see the waitress every twenty minutes. I've sat at bars and had less frequent service.

As the afternoon wore on, Brian got louder. Hard to believe, I know, but not in an obnoxious way. He kept daring people to bet more money, kept throwing more money into the pot to build things up, and by the time I left to go meet my wife for dinner, (she paid; I had a "game dinner" of venison, pheasant and sausage, as well as an oyster stew. I don't need to eat for another three days.), had lost about $500. And he seemed perfectly OK with it.

The moral of the story is if you're going to skip work and play cards, try to sit at the table with the happy alcoholic with the gambling problem. Hopefully he got home OK, but I suspect he's still snoozing in the back of the bus, now parked at the terminal.