Memphis 'Cheap Poems'

All right. My truck has been inspected and I’ll be ready to renew my tags next month. I’m usually late about doing that too.

When the citizens of Guilford County only had one choice to get their tags renewed at Golden Gate shopping center, it was a Titanic pain in the ass. The line was usually out the door and onto the square sidewalk. The waits were long and patience was non-existent in the lines.

Once, I actually took a folding lawn chair and a magazine with me to make the wait in line more enjoyable. So every time the line moved forward, I could easily pull the chair along with me. It’s no fun to waste an hour on your feet during your day off, so that’s why I decided to make the best of it.

People in line thought it was a good idea. One older gent said that he wished he had brought his golf stool with him. But the folks behind the counter took it personally and usually made sure every T was crossed… Blah, blah, blah.

I wasn’t trying to make a statement about their service, because they couldn’t help being the only plate joint in town. I just did it because I didn’t like standing around in line for an excessive amount of time.

When they finally opened another joint in town over on West Market Street, it was great. The lines were usually short and still within the confines of the building. The wait generally took 5 minutes or less and I actually got my tags renewed on time because of it.

Over time, Guilford County has become a little more crowded and those waits can last up to 30 minutes with lines out the door at the West Market location. So getting my tags renewed has once again become a One Man Gang menace to my backside.



I just got the renewal form in the mail today and I’m toying around with the idea of forging ahead with the Internet renewal process. No waiting in lines. No wasting a good portion of an hour (yes, I’m aware that I have plenty of time on hand). And hopefully, it’ll all be Johnny Bench easy… No runs, no drips, no errors.

We shall see.

--Tonight is the beginning of “destroy someone’s life” television!

I’m talking about American Idol. Where they prop talented performers (and not so talented) up for the American public to ooh and ah over for ratings and revenue. And essentially, it’s just a steroid enhanced karaoke meat grinder for public consumption.

Kelly Clarkson has made her mark. Along with Carrie Underwood and Chris Daughtry (I’m predicting “sophomore slump” results on the next album because the material on the debut was weak at best and the public may wise up).

The others haven’t been so lucky with their 15 minutes of fame. Hell, I can’t even remember the name of the salt and peppered hair dude that won last year. The one that jerked around like a dancer with a debilitating muscle disease when he performed. His career fizzled out quickly along with the heavy black guy, the once closeted queen from Raleigh (like we didn’t know), and the not-so-pleasant to look at unwed mother from High Point.

They were ground up and used up. Chances are good that we’ll see them on the news or TMZ as they go down the “Dana Plato” path of destruction.

Oh sure… Everyone in America loves ‘em when they’re on TV, but as soon as cash money is expected for their recordings… Those jokers typically go down faster than baby seals in a Canadian village stocked with Louisville Sluggers.

So for you AI fans… Enjoy the carnage!