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N.O.B.

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Among other random things... while tailgating this weekend, I met Chance Poore's dad. I was sitting in my chair, drinking beer, enjoying the buzz, when I see two guys walking by. One was wearing a Chance Poore jersey. This struck me as odd, and I asked him where he got it (in my mind, it was like a joke). Turned out it was his pops. Super nice guy. Invited me to come hang with them anytime at their RV compound by the stadium.
 
My local Canes has gone to complete hell, not surprising in the land of nerve gas and 6g, but it sucks.

I’m literally eating it right now. Our sits right next to CFA, and there is never anyone there BECAUSE IT SUCKS. But once every 4 months I’ll stop in hoping to rekindle some of that Cane’s magic, AND EVERY DAMN TIME IT SUCKS EXACTLY THE SAME WAY...

1. The chicken is rubbery and smells funny.
2. The chicken is greasy as hell, inside and out.
3. The breading does not adhere to the chicken.
4. The chicken has no seasoning
5. The chicken has no redeemable quality
4. Fries limp
5. Bread not toasted

You make a total of 3 things and you f every one of em up! It’s unbelievable, you would not believe a chicken place that serves chicken, fries, and sliced bread, could f up all three of those things consistently for 3+ years. You also wouldn’t believe Richmond has hundreds of tons of killer mustard gas.

This stupid town man.

Thanks funk. You gave the great idea to try Canes. It really sounded like a good idea but my brain is fried from 6G mustard vapors.

Oh, and every single worker there look like a 14 years trans-curious weirdo. No wonder they can’t be bothered to cook chicken right.
 
My local Canes has gone to complete hell, not surprising in the land of nerve gas and 6g, but it sucks.

I’m literally eating it right now. Our sits right next to CFA, and there is never anyone there BECAUSE IT SUCKS. But once every 4 months I’ll stop in hoping to rekindle some of that Cane’s magic, AND EVERY DAMN TIME IT SUCKS EXACTLY THE SAME WAY...

1. The chicken is rubbery and smells funny.
2. The chicken is greasy as hell, inside and out.
3. The breading does not adhere to the chicken.
4. The chicken has no seasoning
5. The chicken has no redeemable quality
4. Fries limp
5. Bread not toasted

You make a total of 3 things and you f every one of em up! It’s unbelievable, you would not believe a chicken place that serves chicken, fries, and sliced bread, could f up all three of those things consistently for 3+ years. You also wouldn’t believe Richmond has hundreds of tons of killer mustard gas.

This stupid town man.

Thanks funk. You gave the great idea to try Canes. It really sounded like a good idea but my brain is fried from 6G mustard vapors.

Oh, and every single worker there look like a 14 years trans-curious weirdo. No wonder they can’t be bothered to cook chicken right.
Well, hopefully it won't give you IBS. Move to a better town, IMO.
 
Currently sitting in line (of course ) at my local C, F, and/or A, and no less than 4 (four) jackasses have walked in front of my car without so much as a hand wave or head nod. I’m talking complete head down tunnel vision while assuming they have the right of way.

Listen up, rubes — ain’t nobody painted a f#cking crosswalk past my grill, and there sure as hell ain’t no f#cking “I STOP FOR PEDESTRIANS” sign on my hood. It’s really simple:
  1. Hesitate and hold up your hand politely as you tacitly ask permission to cross in front, and
  2. If I deign to grant you permission (as evidenced by me waving back LIKE A NORMAL, CONSIDERATE HUMAN F#CKING BEING), then wave your hand, smile, and HURRY THE F#CK UP AS YOU PASS.
I thing I’ve addressed this before but apparently y’all didn’t take heed the first time. Be better, dammit.
 
Currently sitting in line (of course ) at my local C, F, and/or A, and no less than 4 (four) jackasses have walked in front of my car without so much as a hand wave or head nod. I’m talking complete head down tunnel vision while assuming they have the right of way.

Listen up, rubes — ain’t nobody painted a f#cking crosswalk past my grill, and there sure as hell ain’t no f#cking “I STOP FOR PEDESTRIANS” sign on my hood. It’s really simple:
  1. Hesitate and hold up your hand politely as you tacitly ask permission to cross in front, and
  2. If I deign to grant you permission (as evidenced by me waving back LIKE A NORMAL, CONSIDERATE HUMAN F#CKING BEING), then wave your hand, smile, and HURRY THE F#CK UP AS YOU PASS.
I thing I’ve addressed this before but apparently y’all didn’t take heed the first time. Be better, dammit.
Mav, you are at a Chick-Fil-A. Not a McDonalds or, God forbid, a Burger King. It would be rude of the people walking in front of you to acknowledge the good deed you are performing, lest they lead you down the path to pride or boastfulness. Allow them to pass piously with their heads down. We all will pray for your repentance.
 
My local Canes has gone to complete hell, not surprising in the land of nerve gas and 6g, but it sucks.

I’m literally eating it right now. Our sits right next to CFA, and there is never anyone there BECAUSE IT SUCKS. But once every 4 months I’ll stop in hoping to rekindle some of that Cane’s magic, AND EVERY DAMN TIME IT SUCKS EXACTLY THE SAME WAY...

1. The chicken is rubbery and smells funny.
2. The chicken is greasy as hell, inside and out.
3. The breading does not adhere to the chicken.
4. The chicken has no seasoning
5. The chicken has no redeemable quality
4. Fries limp
5. Bread not toasted

You make a total of 3 things and you f every one of em up! It’s unbelievable, you would not believe a chicken place that serves chicken, fries, and sliced bread, could f up all three of those things consistently for 3+ years. You also wouldn’t believe Richmond has hundreds of tons of killer mustard gas.

This stupid town man.

Thanks funk. You gave the great idea to try Canes. It really sounded like a good idea but my brain is fried from 6G mustard vapors.

Oh, and every single worker there look like a 14 years trans-curious weirdo. No wonder they can’t be bothered to cook chicken right.

I assume you are slightly perturbed at your local canes?

Currently sitting in line (of course ) at my local C, F, and/or A, and no less than 4 (four) jackasses have walked in front of my car without so much as a hand wave or head nod. I’m talking complete head down tunnel vision while assuming they have the right of way.

Listen up, rubes — ain’t nobody painted a f#cking crosswalk past my grill, and there sure as hell ain’t no f#cking “I STOP FOR PEDESTRIANS” sign on my hood. It’s really simple:
  1. Hesitate and hold up your hand politely as you tacitly ask permission to cross in front, and
  2. If I deign to grant you permission (as evidenced by me waving back LIKE A NORMAL, CONSIDERATE HUMAN F#CKING BEING), then wave your hand, smile, and HURRY THE F#CK UP AS YOU PASS.
I thing I’ve addressed this before but apparently y’all didn’t take heed the first time. Be better, dammit.

They would be a lot more grateful if you were parked on top of them. Just saying.
 
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The Etscorn & Sons Collision Center in Middletown is now called Gerber Collision & Glass. I assume they were bought out a few months ago. They have a fancy new sign up with the new name...and part of that fancy sign is a digital display sign at the bottom which currently says: “Etscorn is Gerber”.

Two things come to mind every single time I pass by that sign...

1) Einhorn is Finkle

tenor.gif


2) WTF does a company that makes baby food know about fixing cars???
 
WTF is the etymology of "Etscorn " anyway? I'm guessing Italian. "Pardon me, sir, but what is that yellow, kernel based food you're eating?" "Itsacorn ! " Dude prolly ate so much of it the town folk started calling him "Itsacorn."

Years later, another dude at Ellis Island mispelt it, and, VOILA, you get Etscorn.
 
:joy: that's all I thought about when I first read "etscorn is gerber"

I actually say it out loud every time I pass by. Even when I am alone in the car.

Einhorn is Finkle....Finkle is Einhorn.”

Sometimes, when I am stopped at the light at that intersection I roll down the window and randomly yell it out at no one in particular. Sometimes I even add in a loud, emphatic “LACES OUT, DAN!!!” Just for good measure.
 
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