Friday, July 02, 2004

Hanover, New Hampshire. Land of the Douchebags! 

I've got a lot of blogging to catch up on. It was a busy month of June. But the first item I want to tackle, is the town of Hanover, which is supposedly a part of the state of New Hampshire.
It was in 2001, I believe, when I was sitting by the pool in Austin, Texas shooting the shit with the Colonel of Cocknoose. It's always a pleasure to chat with the Colonel, a true international jet-setter. Somehow, during our conversation, he remarked he had spent a summer studying at Dartmouth College, in Hanover, NH. He also explained how he did not like that experience very much, even though northern NH in the summer is one of the best places to be, anywhere on earth. As he described it (I believe this quote is verbatim), the town was full of snooty, Volvo driving Earth Mothers.
I really had no experience with the town of Hanover. However I do live very near Durham, which is the hometown of the University of New Hampshire. Now, there is that Earth Mother/Hippy element in Durham, however it is a distinct minority. The town is much more full of blue-collar contractors, dry-wallers, landscapers, dishwashers etc. So I figured that perhaps, being fully immersed in the snobbish, Ivy League culture of Dartmouth, the Colonel had been unable to escape the massive gravitational pull that such institutions force on those they allow into their sphere of influence.
Last weekend, the day before our show in Manchester, NH with the Jabbers and Murder Junkies, Mara and I attended a wedding that took place in Hanover, NH. We arrived early, so using common sense, wandered into the downtown area to find the nearest bar. As we came around the corner, I was stunned.
Everywhere I looked, there were brand new Volvos, BMWs, Lexi (is that the proper plural for Lexus?) and of course, numerous, gas guzzling SUVs (most with Anti-Bush bumper stickers, ah the irony). Middle-aged women, with hippy clothes and big diamond earrings, dragged their hippified teenagers around the fancy-pants shops. Sissy-boy middle-aged men attempted to stroll in a masculine manner with their pink polos, golf shorts, and poofy hair, clutching their precious cell phones like life preservers.
There were hippies selling homemade jewelry on the sidewalks, there was a giant store that seemed to exclusively sell huge posters of 60s and 70's bands, and of course the movie theater was only showing one film, Fahrenheit 9/11. I constantly got dirty looks for smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk, but no one said anything. I think my return stares, just begging them to muster the guts to say something scared them off. Funny how a solid stare right back at them made them avert their eyes. Christ, I could just go on and on (and on and on and on and on as Tony Scum would say).
In any event, I then fully understood how awful that summer must have been for the Colonel. I, quite seriously, have never felt such loathing for a place. The air reeked of snobbery, hypocriticism, and a mindless desperation to never acknowledge the real world exists. Until that weekend, the place I always stated as my personal most loathed was Los Angeles. Give me LA any day over Hanover, NH.
However, I do have a solution. Recently the town of Killington, Vermont voted to secede from VT, and become part of NH. Of course, the town can't do this without approval of the VT legislature. There is no way they will that happen. However, perhaps if NH offers to trade Hanover (which is right on the VT border) for Killington it would all work out. Now, I know some of you will say that Killington is just as bad as Hanover. It's close for sure, but Hanover doesn't have one of the best Ski areas in the entire Northeast does it? So, unlike Hanover, it DOES have one redeeming quality. Anyway, remember, you heard this idea here first.
Lastly this entry is no attack on our friends Shawn and Jody, who put on a great wedding and reception. We actually had a great time. We had a blast boozing with all of Shawn's friends from Texas, and with Jody's family from NH, along with all of our drinking buddies back from our neck of the woods.


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