Billboards quoting things you'd never say
This weekend we rolled to Dewey and Rehoboth beaches, and a good time was had by all. There was very little of the drunken craziness of last year, and past Dewey trips. No knockout battle using the “Hulk Hands” resulting in a broken door, no $175 fines for resisting arrest, no reverse leg kicks on innocent female by-standers, no drunken midnight ocean diving, and not even a pointless drunken conga train. Instead, this was more of a weekend to chill at the ‘rents new beach house, cook up some great food, and relax. Outside of Spoony deciding to shower the world’s oldest bachlorette with his Willy Waterbug imitation, and a 45 minute search for a cab, everything was relaxing and smooth.
The parents new place is on the west side of Route 1, about a 4 minute drive to downtown Dewey or to downtown Rehoboth. Far enough away from the craziness for peace and quiet but just a short hike to the beach or bars. On the way to Rehoboth, however, is where the real craziness began. In between the liberal oasis of Washington DC (where somehow Bush almost finished third to Nader) and the liberal oasis of coastal Delaware, you pass through a humongous stretch of Jesusland. Now everyone has already had a good chuckle at the jesusland map, but the reality of jesusland didn’t really hit me until our pit-stop in Bridgeville Delaware. As if all the wacky church signs were not enough it got even crazier.
Brett really wanted to stop for food in Bridgeville, so we found a spot. Apparently this little little Eastern Shore town is home to the Apple-Scrapple festival so I knew we were in for a good time. Nothing indicates that your in for good time like nature’s goodness, apples, and the mysterious breakfast meat, scrapple, all rolled into one festival.
Despite the high concentration of Jews in the car, I figured we’d blend right in - I mean Brett has a bigass Esacalade that even has USA ribbon on the side (really just there to cover a ding). We settled on Bridgville’s only ethnic restaurant: Tony’s Pizza and Pasta. As soon as we sat down I began examining the placemat It contained mostly typical items for a rural eastern shore town that has seen better economic times: demolition, auto salvage, auro parts service, equipment rental. But right there below the pronouncement of “Placemat Fun” I saw the tagline for Fitzgerald’s Auto Salvage:
“Jesus Recycles People. . .We Recycle Cars.”
This is the good stuff you just don’t get in D.C. or Dewey. It does not even make sense. At first I thought it was a reference to reincarnation, but I don’t think J.C. is even down with that mess. Anyway, that is what appeals to consumers in rural Delaware, so who am I to argue. Just thought I’d share the "placemat fun" with all my friends on the internets. Was I crazy to be so amused by this placemat and tagline or is this really what 90% of America is like beyond the big cities and my liberal oases?