Saturday, January 15, 2005

The Flukes of Hazzard

Cable television, like that old box of miscellaneous crap that I found under my bed that harbored all those long forgotten dusty volumes of Hardy Boys adventures, allows me to once again revel in the glorious television rituals of my childhood.

As kids, we literally danced around the television when it was turned on and basked in its warm familiar glow like tribal villagers around a campfire. It was our god! We paid daily tribute to the various heroes and idols that magically appeared like clockwork on the old family Zenith 20” tube television; such familiar Hollywood icons as the Six Million Dollar Man, Yogi Bear, Godzilla, G.I. Joe, B.A. Baracus, the Smurfs, Larry & Ponch, Starksy & Hutch, Mr. Dress-Up, the Incredible Hulk, Wonder woman, Scooby-fucking-Doo…the list just goes on and on like the guest list at the Greek Acropolis come orgy time.

Lately, my newest guilty pleasure on the boob tube is available through the miracle that is cable syndicated television; the Dukes of Hazzard. What a treat to once again be able to relive the adventures of the Duke boys, Bo and Luke. These guys were the archetypical cool rednecks back when Jeff Foxworthy was still mopping the floors in the public bathroom at the local Speedway’s ‘Whataburger’.

Unfortunately, what I am finding is that the old magic surrounding Hazzard County doesn’t have the same appeal that it did for me as a child. I guess I just can’t suspend my belief anymore like I used to be able to in my youth.

In fact, not since the Hardy Boys hometown of Bayport that I read recently in those mystery books under my bed, have I seen such a fucked up place! Considering the small, rural backwoods town that Hazard clearly is, where do all the con men, smugglers, escaped prisoners, counterfeiters, mobsters, bootleggers, and all-round evil masterminds come from? Hazzard County must be where all the criminals and evil-doers go on vacation when they are not terrorizing the streets of Bayport. Shit, you couldn’t swing a dead parole jumper without hitting somebody who was either spying, slinking, thieving, plotting, or generally just up to no-fucking-good. Even LA gangbangers wouldn’t feel safe walking down the center of Hazzard without a police escort.

Even the good ‘ol Duke boys themselves have been in and out of jail so often that you’d think that the Hazzard County Jail would just have installed revolving doors in all their holding cells. This little tidbit of information makes me now realize as an adult why the Dukes never seemed to be ever gainfully employed. Who the fuck would hire guys with a rap sheet longer than Courtney Love?

Now, in a small town whose total population would equal that of the maximum seating capacity at the local Wendy’s restaurant, I bet the competition for employment must be pretty fierce. How are these two hillbilly dipshits ever going to compete in the local job market?

Imagine how Bo and Luke’s police file must have read to potential employers: poaching (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), arms smuggling (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), bootlegging (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), disturbing the peace (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), reckless driving (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), larceny (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), grand theft auto (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), racketeering (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), suspicion to commit murder (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), arson (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), endangerment of public property (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), kidnapping (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), trespassing (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), treason (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES), conspiracy to sell government secrets (CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES). Would you feel that you could trust these guys enough to hire them? I don’t know about you, but I think I’d be more than a little fucking suspicious.

As well, how many fucking times can two guys break their parole in a rural township as small as Hazzard County? Christ, they’d probably be in violation of their parole just by crossing the street to the Boar’s Nest for a couple “two-beers”. How stupid is that?

Which brings me to my next point: how many fucking shortcuts are in Hazzard County anyways? Doesn’t anyone ever take the long route? It seems to me that there are so many shortcuts to other shortcuts in Hazzard that the next immediate shortstop will just involve teleporting their automobile directly to the intended destination! Honestly, the place has the same special territory as the parking lot at Walmart…so why is everyone is such a fucking hurry? Aren’t they supposed to be simple, slow-paced, country folk?

Perhaps this is the reason why there are so many traffic accidents and multiple car pile-ups in Hazzard County. Speaking of which, with all the obvious automotive damage occuring in Hazzard County…why isn’t ‘Crazy’ Cooter the one dressed in the expensive white suits and smoking the big cigars? He should be the richest person in Hazzard what with all the repeat business his garage must be doing*! So why then is he always wearing that grungy sleeveless shirt all smeared with axel grease?

As a matter of fact, NOBODY ever seems to change his or her clothes in Hazzard at all! Doesn’t anyone do laundry in Hazzard County? Are there no decent Laundromats? I would wager that the very air in Hazzard County must absolutely reek of overwhelming body odor. Just imagine what Daisy Duke’s shorts must smell like by now! Probably like the cargo hold of a deep-sea fishing trawler.

One other thing that doesn’t sit well with me now as an adult, is why the fuck everyone addresses Uncle Jesse as “Uncle Jesse”? I mean he only has the two nephews and one niece that I know of, so why then do all strangers, and non-related town folk still address him as their Uncle? How is he related to EVERYBODY? I know incest must run rampant in small rural bumblefuck towns like Hazzard…but Uncle Jesse must have sure been one randy motherfucker in his formidable years banging everyone from LuLu Hogg to Mable the town switchboard operator**, and any other upright female primate from the neighboring Chickasaw County.

There are also unsettling natural anomalies existing within the Hazzard County as well. For example: does it ever fucking rain in Hazzard County? Where do these people live, the planet Mercury? And where the fuck do all the bales of hay come from? I’ve never seen any growing in the passing fields, and yet if hay was a recognized world currency Hazzard County would make Monaco look like a Haitian slum town.

And lastly, has anyone ever wondered how someone named Enos Straight could ever be a deputee sheriff working for a corrupt city commissioner?

* Although, judging by all the car doors that seem to fall off in Hazzard County, I wouldn’t say that Cooter was a very good mechanic at all and was just playing everyone for suckers.

** Come to think of it, there weren’t exactly a hell of a lot of chicks that ever lived in Hazzard County, were there?


Anonymous Anonymous said...

hrmm..i think my love of "daisy dukes" has now been tainted...

5:09 PM  

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