The Gump Loses a Good One, a Visit to Hank's Grave, a Tale From the Crypt, Hate for the NCAA, a Recipe for Nick Fairley and Other Useless Crap for the New Year

Hamburger King

A good friend of mine told me recently that his New Year’s resolution was to be unpredictable, to try new and exciting things in 2011. 

“So, you’re going to skydive, go bungee-jumping, that sort of thing?” I asked him.

“No, I was thinking along the lines of maybe trying a hot dog at Hamburger King,” he said, "maybe the pot roast at Martin's, a steak at Jubilee Seafood. You know, mix it up a bit." 

I thought that was real funny, until I read a few days later that Pat Harrison, longtime owner of Hamburger King, had passed away at 66.

I never knew Mr. Harrison. Never even introduced myself to him because every time I saw him he was running wide-open, constructing impossibly perfect hamburgers one after another for an endless stream of loyal and happy customers. No time to chit-chat with me.

Hamburger King is a wonderful place. It’s too crowded and noisy to discuss anything much more important than the weather, or maybe the asking price of Auburn’s new five-star recruit. But it’s a great place to belly up to the counter, visit with a nice cross-section of fellow hamburger connoisseurs and watch an American family do what American families do.

We will sure miss Mr. Harrison.

Here's a link to a Lunch in the Gump review of this magnificent slice of heaven: 

PUNCH HERE

Change Your Luck at Hank’s

Back in late 2009 another good friend of mine (not the hotdog-starved daredevil referenced above) told me he thought I needed a change of luck. Having tried collard greens and black-eyed peas year after year to no avail, and lacking the funds to cross the Atlantic and kiss the Blarney Stone, I decided to take his advice and pay homage at the grave of Hank Williams.

A year ago, on the frosty morning of January 1, 2010 (the 57^th anniversary of Hank’s death in 1953) I went and had a nip of whiskey at the legend’s final resting place. I even got caught up in the wreath-laying ceremony and met fans from all over the country. Damn, I thought. Tourism.

Anyway, 2010 had its ups and downs like all years but at least business was a lot better and I backed that slobbering-ass wolf a few steps away from the door. So on this New Year’s Day I braved the rain and led a small entourage over to Oakwood Cemetery and repeated the process for 2011. Hell, I figured it couldn’t hurt.

An Unrelated Hank Reference

A little research on Hank revealed that his nom de plume “Luke the Drifter” was an alias used for Christian music and readings Hank recorded against the advice of Nashville record execs. What a remarkable name, Luke the Drifter… like some mysterious character from a Clint Eastwood western, or a feared hit-man from over in Jersey.

I remember a neighbor who used to live across the street from my in-laws had a big, fine-looking chocolate Labrador retriever named Luke. The neighbors called him “Luke the Drifter” because he used to roam the neighborhood at all hours of the day and night, presumably in search of female companionship.

He was a quiet dog...

Luke was a pleasant, very social dog beloved by the neighborhood’s children and adults alike. But when Luke’s owners moved a few years later the new neighbors cleaned several years’ worth of leaves from Luke’s kennel and found a few dozen cat skeletons in there. Seems Luke the Drifter was a serial cat killer living right there amongst us. You just never know.


The NCAA is Dead

Well, the Sugar Bowl is mercifully over and maybe we won’t hear much more about the Ohio State Boy Scouts selling their jerseys and bowl bling in exchange for cash and great deals on tats.


Their punishment? An all-expenses-paid jet-out to the Quarter. Suspensions next year, unless the tattooed bling merchants are already in the NFL. Laissez les bons temps rouler! 


If you are an Alabama fan, like me, and have become used to the NCAA’s regulatory jackboot on your neck, like I have, then this recent turn of events should set your blood boiling. Seems like only yesterday a group of Bama football players were suspended for several games for getting textbooks for their friends. Not hookers and blow, mind you, not even free tattoos, but textbooks… little reservoirs of knowledge and wisdom. Sheesh.

BCS Prediction

I don’t really have much to add. Don’t see how Oregon can slow Cameron down, not even the least bit. Auburn’s defense will stop the Ducks two or three times. Auburn wins, 56-33.

A Recipe for Nick Fairley

First -- and this is the important part -- make sure the Duck is dead. Marinate the breasts overnight in some decent red wine and Dale’s sauce, stuff them with cream cheese and jalapeno peppers, wrap them in a couple of strips of bacon each and grill them real slow on a low charcoal fire. Serves one. Thank me later.

Big Thanks to the War Eagle Nation

Auburn fans apparently liked the last column, “Bama Fan Wakes from Three-Month Coma.” That blog post, see below, just went over 10,000 page views since December 8. Almost 4,000 people saw the column the first day alone (my previous record was a whopping 35!). We are working on the sequel now, but first have to see how many Bama fans take their own lives if Auburn wins. This Internet thing may catch on.