When my mom and dad invited me to join them in taking part in a 70-family garage sale in Sarepta, La. – my home town – I said “sure.” In true Chris Jay fashion, I didn’t really prepare until the last minute. On the way out the door, I grabbed an autographed, promotional 8″ X 10″ glossy photograph of rapper-turned-house flipper Vanilla Ice off of the mantle. I figured it would be an easy sale. Who doesn’t want an autographed photo of Vanilla Ice?
As I tried to sell the autographed Vanilla Ice promo glossy to customer after customer, I began to marvel at the fleeting nature of human enterprise. Vanilla Ice was once the most popular rap artist of all time. He reached heights most of us only dream of. He probably had cougars, turkeys and possibly more flamboyant birds walking around his properties under their own supervision. He probably had trays of fresh fruits and everything bagels and pickled herring and whatnot scattered about his domicile. That was just 20 years ago. But today, you ask some turd from Sarepta to pay you $25 for an autographed Vanilla Ice promo glossy and you are liable to get some Beech-Nut right in the eye.
I guess what I’m saying is this: We go to so much trouble to build our little empires in this life, and what does it get us? Most of us won’t ever have a hit like “Ice, Ice Baby.” And yet, this guy who totally did write “Ice, Ice Baby” – just 20 years later – is trying to sell ratchet farmhouses to the Amish and getting laughed at at a garage sale in Sarepta.
Whatever. I hope you enjoy this episode. Sara promises me that she’ll be your host for episode number three. Thanks for listening to our little rumination on life in the Deep South. I’d give each and every one of you a little pinch on the behind, if I could.
Awesome little piece of Southern life…”he’s still alive, that’s a good sign.”
$25 is tempting!!! 🙂