Living the Flea

New Year's weekend: a time for reflection, a time for renewal, a time for New Year's Eve plans that always disappoint. It is also time for what was voted "One of America's Top 10 Flea Markets" at the Kentucky Fair and Expo Center. There is a flea market held here every month but only twice a year to they open the coveted second wing. The one with the good stuff. Unique items and weird shit that doesn't show up at the rest. Those choice items that have escaped the insatiable vacuum cleaner that is eBay that has all but killed the thrill of the hunt at flea markets across this land. There are still some folks out there that don't own a computer and never will and god bless them (every one).

Exhibit A: The ALF Phone


This item I coveted greatly. Something about talking through that cat lovin' creature from outer space was really doing it for me. I still couldn't bring myself to pay $45 (haggled down from $48) for the privilege. I asked if I could take a picture and held up my iPhone and made the statement: "Before the iPhone, there was the ALF Phone." The old man looked up at me with a note of sympathy as if I was special and said "Is that so?" He had no earthly idea what I was blathering about. That is precisely why this ALF Phone will remain in the realm of the flea market and not end up on eBay. This is also the reason why they will never get $45 for it.

Exhibit B: Box of axe handles - $2 each or 3 for $5


The box of axe handles is a good example of the abundance of peculiar but sad crap that now dominates America's flea markets thanks to eBay.

I was tempted by many things and even succumbed to two fantastic Micheal Jackson dolls (one from Thriller and the other from Beat It) which are both on display/sale at WHY Louisville (complete with sparkly glove and matching sparkly socks). The Mr. T talking doll from 1983 was talking at me pretty loud but I had the strength to look T in the eye, proclaim "enough of your jibba jabba" and walk away.



While advances in modern technology have greatly reduced the number of original items available at the flea market, the entrepreneurial spirit of these people is alive and well. These people are living the fucking dream. They are doing whatever they can to be their own boss. Clinging to any racket that will keep them out of the cubicle or off the factory belt. I got all choked up as I looked around and saw each vendor proudly hovering around their booth with whatever less-than-choice domain name they had recently registered to promote their business.

Exhibit C: Mike - He paints crystal nail files (by hand)


I was particularly struck by Mike. When I asked if I could take his picture, he was thrilled to pose behind his sign which I can safely assume he hand painted as well. It was as if he had been waiting for someone to recognize his accomplishments and by someone wanting to take his picture that day was finally here. I wish I was with TIME Magazine for Mike's sake but sadly it's just a picture from my phone that is being posted on one of the bejillion blogs out there and may be read by as many as three people.

Exhibit D: Beanie Baby Lady


As I was gathering the courage to ask folks if I could take their picture I said to this lady something idiotic like "that's a lot of beanie babies." She looked at me (again like I was probably "touched") and said "yeah I sure wish someone would buy one!" Ouch. I remember the Beanie Baby craze. People were buying and trading them like they were stocks on Wall Street and then like most markets the bottom fell out. I don't know if this is Beanie Baby Lady's primary form of income but I firmly believe that she wishes it could be.

There is an air of desperation in the eyes of these vendors but they are still out there trying to make it happen. Whether they succeed or fail, the fact that they are going for it is what I respect. I can easily see myself in this world one day. Lord knows I've collected my share of junk over the years that I will one day need to unload. If I can pay for my booth rental and have enough left over too treat me and my peeps to a Tidy Taco, it will have been a success.

Good Signs

Somewhere in the bowels of Butchertown, beyond the stench, lies a magical place. A place where signs go to die. This is the sign graveyard's most recent offering.


Shoney's Sign!

On a recent turkey-day-trip to wild and wonderful West Virginia, I learned that Charleston, WV is the birthplace of Shoneys. In fact, I had the pleasure of dining at this establishment which was literally wedged between a Long John Silvers and a Captain Ds! There's an apparent high demand for hush puppies in the area.

The "family style" buffet was quite a bounty and I did my best not to look too close. I was on the verge of a major gross out for the duration of my visit but my strong sense of denial was once again serving me well and I wolfed down my mashed taters and veggie soup with oyster crackers without a hitch. I snapped this photo of a shrine of sorts behind the buffet. I assume this was the founder or at the very least a highly esteemed customer.


Smith's Furniture, that's who!
There were several Smith's Furniture signs and I didn't get a picture of the best one. It was the old one with a graduation cap on the owl. I wanted desperately to take it home but my annoyingly strong conscience prevented me from walking away with it. Not to mention it was too heavy.



This sign was from the Kentucky Theater which is now a Cricket cell phone store (barf). One of the ways I know Cricket is evil is that homeless people were wearing their t-shirts everywhere when they first came to town. Coincidence? I think not.














Last but not least is the Tumbleweed sign. I can't go there anymore with their American flag neckerchiefs they force those poor waiters to wear and the mediocre Tex-Mex cuisine but I remember a time when Tumbleweed didn't suck. Before they went public, when I was just a young confused lad in love with Tumbleweed's salsa. I LOVED that salsa. I would literally eat 8 to 10 bowls of it in one sitting (fer real - you can ask my dad!) The old Tumbleweed on Melwood used to have this taxidermied coyote that was all old and dusty with cobwebs all over it. Someone had placed a tortilla chip in it's forever gaping mouth.

I miss that thing.

Good people in bad Santa suits

This past weekend marked the re-emergence of the Santa Brigade, an all volunteer army of folks who are willing to act a fool just for the fun of it. It all started last year when I got a line on some cheap Santa suits down in Cave City, Kentucky - which I commonly refer to as the most magical place on earth. When presented with the opportunity to acquire 20+ cheaply made Santa suits at such a bargain, I jumped at the chance.

Through the miracle of Myspace the Santas were gathered for the initial coming out Santabration and invaded the My Morning Jacket/Wax Fang show in Louisville on Thanksgiving eve in the year 2006. There was no agenda so we just ran around like a bunch of nuts engaging in random acts of entertainment such as breakdancing (poorly), doing the wave and "ho-ho-ing" until our voices were gone.



This past weekend was a more humble offering of the Santa Brigade with a mere six Santas which can probably be attributed to no offering of free booze or free admission to see what the magazine's are calling "The best live band in America." We met in front of WHY Louisville and put on our bad Santa suits which almost everyone still had from last year. This is noteworthy because these suits are made of very fragile and highly flammable fabric. You certainly don't want to be near an open flame in these things. Each Santa suit consists of the following:


- Hat

- Jacket

- Beard

- Belt

- Trousers








We were handed our hymnals as prepared by Santa #2. Our mission was to sing carols (not of the holiday variety mind you) up and down the street during the annual neighborhood shopping extravaganza known as Bardstown Road Aglow. Armed with only our hymnals and a tuning pipe from Santa #4/F1 (F=Female), we hit the streets. We had no rehearsal and no idea what key each of our songs were in so we always started with the key of "C" which I have been told by a professional opera singer is "the people's key."

Our song list consisted of the following:

"Rock Me Amadeus" in the style of Falco
"Kokomo" in the style of The Beach Boys
"Ghostbusters" in the style of Ray Parker Jr.
"Friends in Low Places" in the style of Garth Brooks and/or Chris Gaines
"Rawhide" in the style of The Blues Brothers
"If you Wanna Be My Lover" in the style of The Spice Girls
"Convoy" in the style of C.W. McCall

We made about 15 stops and picked one or two songs for each. We were met with varied degrees of enthusiasm, apathy and/or fear. Highlight performances included the Spice Girls collaboration with the bucket drummer in front of Ramsi's Cafe and the breakthrough rendition of "Rawhide" when we figured out how to split up the final verse alternating between "Head 'em up" and "Ride 'em out" in front of Day's Coffee.



Words can't express the fondness I have for the folks in the Santa Brigade last week. They are good people and I can't think of a better group to run around in bad Santa suits with.