Thirty-five signs that show you’ve destroyed your heritage

enhanced-buzz-3479-1369234571-19Over at Buzzfeed, they worked up a mighty powerful post on “38 Signs you’re from North Carolina.”

It was described as “spot on” and “this is hilarious” by my North Carolina friends.

Well, Buzzfeed, you’re a failure. The ONLY thing you’ve succeeded in is getting attention and hits on your site. But your list sucks.

I opened the article, and read with great hope and tenacity. I figured I would love the way it made me relish in my North Carolina upbringing.

Upon reading, of the 38 signs I’m from North Carolina … I qualified for about 2 or 3 of them.

Insert tail between legs.

Number two is about Cheerwine. I loved Cheerwine growing up. Number two got me.

But I’ve never fought over the best barbecue. I’d argue for my Texas friend’s recipe for beef brisket over NC BBQ any day.

I left NC before Asheville became the beer brewing capital of the state. I didn’t really drink much when I lived there either.

I grew up in a Michiganer’s home, so while we had a firm religious hold, we didn’t say “Y’all.”

Number six is about sweet tea. And while I loved it growing up, that shit is bad for you. It eats your teeth, and makes you love guns and churches with huge stages, drum sets and awful music. Or something.

Number seven is about NASCAR, which is the dumbest, gasoline-wasting, brain-cell depleting “sport” ever. You know how kittens love to watch a toy go around and around in front of their face for long periods? That’s NASCAR. Only cats know when to say “Fuck off” before scratching your hand and taking a nap.

But number eight appeals to my long-guilty pleasure of loving Bojangles. It’s the best fried chicken biscuit … ever. No argument. Shut up.

They are so bad for you, but so good.


Then there’s a series of things that don’t appeal to me. Collard greens, burgers all the way, the fight over first in flight. Who cares. I never got too upset about Florida license plates. I don’t have a basketball team I love over another. Carolina blue and Duke blue can screw themselves.

Pro sports were not a part of my upbrining.

But the one that hurts the most is the last on the list.

Number 38.

“And even when the state disappoints you, you still ardently defend it.” 

I’m guilty for dragging North Carolina under the bus. It’s responsible for the term “Yeshua Fog,” a place so densely disturbed by unfounded religious tenacity that its citizens often can’t see three feet in front of them.

But what do I know? I live in the Diversity Fog, blinded by all the different views from different ideas. A place that made me turn on my heritage and whine endlessly about it.




What is it? He controls the weather or not?

I know. I’m late to the party.

But since Isaac — the greatest hurricane of all time — is threatening to disrupt the Republican National Convention in Florida … and God is the bringer of weather and uses it to declare his clear and almighty messages … does this mean that God hates the GOP?

We know that nature hates babies and starving children in Africa. That much is clear and true.

But the money-bagged wealth descending on Florida to whoop up lame-old Romney and his Rage Against the Machine sidekick?

Where is the love?

And where is Pat Robertson’s interpretation of God’s clear voice now?

Go get ’em, Isaac!

Or, it’s just weather and we should carry on. Like reasoned, versed-in-science, level-headed nice people.

Baby Cheetah at Busch Gardens Tampa

See, something good can come out of Florida.

Busch Gardens’ animal care team has something new keeping them up at night — a four-week-old baby cheetah that requires regular feedings and 24-hour care.

The new cub was born at the Jacksonville Zoo and Gardens to a mother who wasn’t able to care for him. When zoo keepers saw that the baby was not eating and having trouble gaining weight, they made the decision to hand-raise him. Now, at a little more than two pounds, the cub is eating well, getting stronger and eagerly exploring his new home.


Am I the only Debra Oberlin lover on the planet?

Former Gainesville Florida president of Mothers Against Drunk Driving Debra Oberlin was arrested last week for driving while impaired.

I posted it here. My headline was, “I love you, Debra Oberlin.”

Who in the world couldn’t love this woman?


Over the weekend, someone or some group is battering Le Café with hits. It’s as if someone googled the search terms “Debra Oberlin .234 and .239” and is clicking the link over and over and over. I have 100s of incoming hits off of those exact search terms. I can’t imagine more than one person using those exact terms to search for Oberlin.

But maybe I’m wrong. Floridians aren’t known for being the brightest bulbs in the socket.

Regardless, Oberlin will get what she deserves (hopefully). Yet I imagine all those AA lovin’ Oberlin haters are all going to embrace forgiveness and not anger when they pummel her with their hateful words. Sort of like this lover who responded on the original post:

This hippocritical bitch should be public beat to death or better yet,turned over to any 100 of the thousands whose lives she helped ruin with her holier than thou bullshit,and let them deal with her.It would be too much to ask for that the system will subject her to the full extent of the law.They will probably coddel her because of the income flow she helped create.

“Love ’em with hate,” should be the next motto on the Florida license plates.

Get crackin’, all you Floridian prisoners!

I love you, Debra Oberlin

Meet Debra Oberlin.


Oberlin was pulled over for driving under the influence in Gainesville, Florida. She blew a .234 and a .239, a considerable amount over the legal limit of .08 and just under the amount necessary to spontaneously explode your brain (true scientific fact).

Why do I love Debra Oberlin?

Because she served as president of the Gainseville chapter of Mothers Against Drunk Driving for three years.

Awesome Gin Blossom!