blastall

9:10 am, saturday, 4-16-05. i'm headed south on meridian. going to the fairgrounds to experience VICTOR BEAN'S SOUTHERN CLASSIC GUN AND KNIFE SHOW. vic brings his traveling merchants of individual and mass destruction to tally 3 or 4 times each year. thank you so much. we were running low on bazookas. unless you are a law enforcement officer, it will cost you $6.00 to check out the latest in guns and pigstickers. the price of entry has gone up a buck since my last visit. as the many customers jamming the aisles will attest, it is a small price to pay for personal protection. i don't really need any small arms, as miss amy always notes, i have two already. however, i'm always in the market for gifts for my weapon impaired friends. who doesn't appreciate a nice automatic paragon blade or a serrated airlight beretta. deputy pat k is at the door to make sure nobody gets unduly shot or stuck while buying stuff to shoot and stick. top of the morning to you pat. yes sir, i'm here to see my future in forensic weaponry. slip the ladies a five and a one, get my shooting hand stamped and i can stay all day and enter to win a knife that is surely to die for. an exhibition hall full of camo and denim clad guys with baseball caps on backwards. this is the 2nd amendment in the flesh. who needs the dept of homeland security? truth is , from the looks of this crowd, i wouldn't trust them to propel any object harder than their spit in a styrofoam cup or to handle anything sharper than a rubbermaid spatula. my usual supplier from port st.joe is nowhere to be found. after 20 minutes, i decide that there is nothing for sale that i can't live without. i take my angst elsewhere. 10:45. time to attend the art festival in the chain of parks. this is the big one. not like last week when the arts only took up one link in the chain. no sir. this week we get three links plus vendors in the streets beside the parks. first stop. i spy some neat jewelry. copper and brass earrings. how convenient, the girl of my dreams left the house without lobe attire. gee, they just fit the holes and i might say they look sharper than a shiv at vic's show. $15 plus tax. well spent. darlin has dangles and a smile. at the end of the first link, i get lucky. the kettle korn guy is here. small bag $3. i finish the "old maids" as we approach the lemonade wagon. small lemonade $3. today, it seems, the world can be bought in threes or multples thereof. miss amy takes a sip of the lemonade and pronounces it unfit for human consumption. too sweet and besides the label is still on the hunk of lemon in the cup. i am not human. it is the best i ever had. the label just provides a twist on the toast: here's looking at you--it actually appears to be looking at me. my drink toasts me. 12;30 a slow lunch outside at andy's place on adams. i order a cheeseburger with extra onions, steak fries and a bass ale. lovely lobes has a ginger ale and a salad with fried chicken chunks on top. there were no extra onions. the fries were a nice addition to the 57 sauce. the salad was fit for human consumption. if the human is real hungry. no complaints, just observations. great spring day. the place is busy with fsu fans getting ready for the 2pm garnet and gold spring football game. to the seminole football fans it is foreplay. a taste of things to come in the fall. what a waste of time. in five months when the actual season starts, it will be time to fall in love. a lot of these fans are not very loyal. lose two games and these fans will be talking separate bedrooms. 1:30 and it is time to head to po'boy's for the annual crawfish festival. one half of college ave between monroe and calhoun is blocked. got cops. got a barricade. got ticket sellars. $8.00 to get in and $7.00 for the right to suck the heads and tails off a mound of crawfish imported from nawlins' for this event. i once ate a crawfish at the old goodtime charlie's on w. tenn st.--a place on the giant bag's farewell tour. the memory lingers. today i will save 15.00. who cares anyway? you can watch the whole show from the street. the band we want to see and hear is to sart at 2. the sound check never ends. at 2;30 we leave. i guess we will have to see wb's guitar teacher and his zydeco band another time. miss amy observes: how come the roadies can never set up a show on time? the answer is simple. a roadie is a wannabe. his time on stage moving mic's and wires is his time in the spotlight. as long as the real show never starts, his show never ends. one monkey can't stop the show but one monkey can sure keep a show from starting. today it did not matter. spending a hour watching half-naked coeds stumble down college ave. to attend this event, was more than worth the price of admission--that i didn't pay.