Happy Graduation, Scrapply
I don’t think that the blog would be complete without at least mention of Scrapply’s birthday. While it’s not as heartfelt as comment on a Facebook Wall, this is an acknowledgment that the youngest curmudgeon on the planet has another year to his name.
I think the universe is complicit in this celebration, or at least the town of Bridgeville, Delaware. In searching for festive scrapple pictures, it came to my attention that the second weekend of October hearkens the annual Apple Scrapple Festival. As they state, “It’s hard to drive through Bridgeville during the summer and NOT notice the distinctive smell of scrapple being processed.” What better reason for a fest?
Take a look at the description (emphasis added):
Things start up again on Saturday morning with an “all you can eat” scrapple breakfast from 7:00 to 11:00 am. The rest of the day is filled with carnival rides, kids’ games, scrapple chunkin’, scrapple carving, live entertainment, car show, tractor pull, trade show, two craft shows and any kind of food that you can imagine including apple fritters, scrapple sandwiches, oyster sandwiches, hamburgers and hotdogs, barbecue beef sandwiches, ice cream and much more. The Festival is handicapped accessible.
I just can’t understand why they didn’t send scrapply a personal invite… It has his name all over it.
So, you young whipper snapper, Happy Birthday.
Sincerely, Old Whipper Snapper.
Femiliar Territory
I recently became acquainted with a guy who seems weirded out by feminism. He offered to carry something for me the other day, and I said “No thanks! It’s not that heavy!” His reponse: “Always a feminist…”
Haven’t we tread here before? I don’t want to delegitimize my desire to carry my own shit and say it wasn’t feminist, but, really, it wasn’t heavy and it was more for practical reasons than anything else. What gives? Does this make him not a feminist? Does it make me not one because this sort of statement irks me? Is it 1982?
The Shanty Kingdom 