Town Matters 

City Mayor Not Real Person 01/16/2016


Recently I read an article about the “optimism” of Peachtree City’s new mayor, Vanessa Fleisch. First of all, I think all residents of Fayette County can join me in asking, “who is this Vanessa Fleisch?” Now I respect our local papers but you can’t just make people up! Secondly then, she’s not even a regular on Steve Brown’s facebook page so how are we supposed to believe she’s in politics. Furthermore, I spend a lot of time with crabby older people and not one of them has heard of her. In a recent article in some newspaper Fleisch was quoted as saying, “Last year was very busy. It had its ups and downs, but there was so much positive across the city.” That’s the same exact thing Siri said to me when I asked her where the nearest Pakistani takeout was.
When I was just a boy we would hold elections for mayor and all the townsfolk would gather in the square and throw stones at whomever drew the paper with the black dot on it. Now, somebody we’ve never heard of just invents a person and calls her mayor. Where were the bumper stickers in red, white, and blue with soaring stars? I never saw the yard signs or parade floats. As far as I’m concerned this is as fictitious as the moon landing.
So mayor, if that is your name, I have a few things you should know: Peachtree City is really hard to say and if you care about anything you’ll fix that. Also, I’m sick of spelling the whole city name out when writing it on an envelope- makes my hand cramp! Why can’t you be more like Tyrone? I can’t remember the third thing, but I look forward to meeting you soon. I think you sold my nephew’s house.
I have one last thing to say to this “mayor”……you’ll have to pry my gas powered golf cart keys from my cold, partially-alive hands.



Larry Thack, like Jeb, feels ignored by Neil Cavuto

Extortion, Murder, Dirty Cop 10/29/2016


Fall is tough for old Thack. I suffer from arthritis caused by the Fayette County School System.
You see, my seven children were all under the tutelage of hyper-competitive elementary school-teachers. As I am told, these teachers would get together prior to Halloween and gamble on the number of students who would bring in carved jack-o-lanterns for their classes. Whichever class brought in the most interpretations of a decorated pumpkin would win, thusly rewarding the teacher with anything from a Panama-City vacation to a bottle of scotch.
I was usually told the night before they were due that I would need to carve and deliver anywhere from four to eight pumpkins by the next morning. I’d spend all night with my hands in pumpkin-filth trying to use a disposable knife that came with a carving kit from Ingles. The kids would stand nearby and pretend to be involved, but really what could they do? Only make it take longer. We just had a couple philosophies: no painted pumpkins- pumpkin blood would be spilled. And the depiction had to be either frightening or evil.
It wasn’t all bad. I knew I could look forward to the weekend when all the pumpkins would be taken to the town square for display. I sure was proud of my creations at this point. The joy reached a crescendo when my foot launched the first pumpkin of the season into a tree. Any pumpkin that looked like a half-effort got a full punt. If you go after eight there’s no one around and you can judge your children’s classmates without any exposure. By Saturday night the range of temperature and time has softened the victims and you can usually just stamp them out like cigarettes.
As joyful as all this is I’m still a little depressed since the WNBA Playoffs are over. That slowly oscillating two-tone ball is just right for my aging eyes. Fortunately I have a new walk-in bathtub where all my cares just melt away.


Larry Thack just tied the sleeves of an argyle sweater around his neck.

My Dirty Deed- those Little “NO” Campaign Signs 04/30/2016


Surely everyone in town has seen those little white and red signs among the political signs along the road. They’re about half the size of the other signs and they are advertising for our very own Charles Oddo, Tyrone Barlow, and some other guy. Instead of the common spherical bullet-point, the names of these candidates are bulleted by the word “NO”. That was my idea. Barlow and Oddo cause my glum to know no depths folks.
Let’s start with Tyrone Barlow. After an evening of delivering candy to the infirm I confided in Mr. Barlow that I was planning to have my Buick LeSabre painted red, white, and blue with a fierce eagle on the hood. Not a week later that turn-coat shows up with his Kia wrapped in a red, white, and betrayal! Honk at this Judas for me next time he rolls up in his shameful conveyance.
Oddo is many times worse. Did you know there are three of him? Now, he’s not responsible for anything as heinous as stealing my “car as flag” idea but let’s just say that years ago there was someone else known as Fayette County’s preeminent hat-model. Heartbroken, a closet full of millinery goes unworn. This town’s just not big enough for two guys who wear fedoras to the post office.
I don’t really know who that third guy is, but the sign-guy told me I was paying for four lines either way. Wish I’d just increased the font size.
My apologies to Steve Brown who is being framed by the local media. On Wednesday the newspaper put a picture of Councilperson Brown on the front page implying he was responsible for the signs. This picture is a photo-shopped forgery! It looks like a Bigfoot sighting for crying out loudly. Also, he is prominently displaying a cellphone holster on his belt, which no one in decent society has worn for at least twelve years. Clearly a fake! So, sorry you’re taking all the brunt here Stevie. I’ll see what I can do about adding a few “likes” to your facebook page.
Too bad I didn’t give a little more thought to this plan. Now that I think of it, all the ballot-machines are electronic now. There’s probably no way to write a little “No” in the box next to the candidates.


Larry Thack’s confusion between the Arab Spring and a popular soap brand led to his removal from Rite Aid following a skirmish.

I’m Pretty Happy with Things Right Now 06/10/2016

If you’ve travelled through the once quaint, now bustling town of Fayetteville lately you’ve surely noticed all the construction going on around the county’s second most-travelled intersection at highways 92 and 85. There is some major road construction the likes of which hasn’t been seen in this county since Redwine Road was a mud bog. There is also a new fast food restaurant being built right in the middle of this major construction- funny, right?
So last week I thought it would be fun to have a little contest, ask a question, play a fun game. The game- who would finish first? The road construction or the fast foodery? I chose facebook as the spot to conduct this poll since everyone seems to be familiar and active on it. Nobody responded or made a guess. Not a single one of you twerps! And all you had to do was make a comment on facebook. It doesn’t appear that you troglodytes do anything other than post your various sewage on facebook. How hard was that task?
But clearly the problem lies with me. I just scanned facebook to see what everyone was up to and it appears I have missed the point. Facebook is no place for polling the public with a fun quiz. It’s for narcissists and plastic surgery, weirdo religious zealots who think that clouds are actual angels, cat videos, and a lot of subtle racism. From now on I pledge only to use facebook either to sanctify myself and/or urge my “friends” to “like” the latest birdshit on my car that looks like the Virgin Mary. Someone on my newsfeed even trashed Muhammad Ali for not fighting in WW2. Maybe wait a couple weeks before you dishonor the dead you monster. That’s the D-Con man you’re dissin’!
Since no one wanted to play my game I will end it myself by concluding suchly: there is no way in hell the county or the city or the state will ever finish that road before the good folks at This Is It BBQ & Seafood serve their first rib scampi.


Larry Thack hates each and every one of you very much and hopes you all go to Hell.

I Hope They Give Me a Gun Soon 05/13/2016


Congratulations town! I have just completed my studies at the Citizens Police Academy here in town and am now a member of the new Auxiliary Police Department. Training was nothing short of rigorous. It took a portion of the first week just to teach the students to spell auxiliary. As part of our conflict resolution training we read and summarized the book How to Get Along With Difficult People. Finally, we were able to graduate.
Perhaps you’ve seen us around town creeping through parking lots menacingly in last decade’s police-issue Crown Victoria. Now you may think we’re just here to round up jaywalkers and litterers, to harangue those parked illegally or relocate those who are not quite handicapped enough to use the special spots. But our job here in town is clear: to assist police officers in non-threatening situations, improve the flow of traffic, and scoop middle-aged joggers out of the gutters.
What’s not so clear is my job with the auxiliary force. Some modifications have been made since I scored so well on my psychological assessment. There are more than a few mundane tasks our brave police persons just can’t get to in a day and that’s why I’ve been named Fayette County’s first “Gang Liaison”. I’ll be in charge of the gang lexicon and will also study gang-fashion and music. I will understand and replicate the gang-culture passing along my study to our detectives for field-work. I will also assist in daily gang-related tasks like planting evidence and demoralizing stool-pigeons.
I hope to complete a successful year or so on this job at which point I will focus on completing my “revenge list” with all the more and necessary power.

Larry Thack Is going to wander around Target for a few hours then go home and watch tv.

Cool factor 03/12/2016


The front page of the paper the other day featured a picture of Dan Cathy (Chicken Butcher) addressing a group of local important-people about the county’s future. The discussion focused on the question, “how does the county retain its millennial citizens and keep Fayette County on the cutting edge of coolness?” Dan was wearing a cool outfit he clearly had borrowed from council-demon David Barlow. I didn’t read the entire article but I have decided to weigh in with a few ideas.
1. Legalize the marijuana. I’m not trying to presume anything here, but whenever some younger generation pops up with a bunch of demands, this is generally the most effective carrot.
2. Build more disc golf courses.
3. Greenways and bike paths are popular among the millennials. We have one idea in the works here: The Ridge Nature Area and Mountain Bike Paths. This is one of the most impressive land tracts in Georgia dedicated to public use and it will be well-attended if it ever opens. For more than a year this ready-to-go property has been protected by “no trespassing” signs. Millennials don’t like signs like that.
4. Seem like a cool place to be. Fayette County completely fails at this. When you go to a gas station in a cool place the attendant is smoking behind six inches of bulletproof glass. In Fayette County the guy running the convenience store is middle-aged with a mortgage whose major irritant is having his steady flow of customers inhibit him from mopping or taking out the trash or doing some other task. He knows you and your kids and genuinely wishes you have a nice day. Not cool.
5. Have crime. Fayette County has a true lack here. The only action the cops get is directing traffic at the Dunkin Donuts. It should also be noted that this is as cool as our coffee shops get.
6. If you’re a restaurant you need to have trivia night at least once a week if you expect to keep your liquor license.
7. Get a theater. Not a concrete bunker with sticky floors. The kind you get dragged to. Living actors. We aren’t a society without one.



Larry Thack is the guy who orders the fish tacos at Truett’s Luau.

Campaign Promises 03/05/2016

Inspired once again by the likes of presidential candidates Tom Cruz and Johnny Carson, I am renewing my interest in becoming the next mayor of the county and one day Governor of our province. Their inspirational moments on TV stir within me a patriotism that will one day manifest itself in the purchase of a mini flag.
So far I have introduced my energy policy with the four-pronged approach of using wind, solar, hillbillies, and “conservation”. Also I have called for the destruction of that superfluous stoplight on highway 54 a few blocks from the courthouse. My supporters are growing and will soon be old enough to vote. As such, it is time to add to my list of campaign promises.
My first promise is to repeal Lee Greenwood’s song, “God Bless the USA”. We already have a national anthem Lee, and I’m just now getting the lyrics down.
I also pledge to end our reliance on foreign filmmakers. “Antman” sucked.
I promise to have a wall built between Peachtree City and Tyrone and I further pledge that Peachtree City will pay for that wall.
I will also commit to end the public playing of that creepy music on Fridays at the Old Courthouse. It’s weird, friends! I’m driving by and need to roll down my windows to determine if it’s coming from another car or if, God forbid, the city is just piping it into the air as some sort of public service. And whose choice was “smooth jazz”?
I will offer Edward Snowden amnesty in our county. His motivations are patriotic and I think he can fix my Acer laptop.
Under my administration Councilperson Steve Brown will be limited to one facebook post per day while any of the Oddos will be required to share all photos that include their hat collections.
As my forefathers have similarly done for generations, I pledge to put a halt to the Hood Avenue realignment construction right when it’s about three-quarters done. Half the lanes will be closed and no one will have a clue when it will be finished. Several workers will remain in the area during the hiatus period to stand around and glare at motorists.

Larry Thack’s arthritis precludes him from shelling those miniature “fun-size” Snickers bars.

My Mayoral Platform- Energy Policy 11/20/2015


A few months ago I made some remark about running for mayor. A few weeks ago we elected a new mayor so I guess I missed my chance. Fortunately, I have set several reminders on my phone for the next election and don’t plan on missing it next time. As such, I will now begin the lengthy introduction of my platform.
First on the agenda is my new energy plan for the county. The Thack energy policy will focus on four strategic areas: Wind, solar, hillbillies, and periodic blackouts.
Wind and Solar
I take daily strolls through our town and find that there are a few key spots where we could exploit some renewable energy supplies. No matter where I sit on the patio at the La Hacienda restaurant the sun always shines directly in my eyes- install solar panels. I’ll get back to you on wind-power. Next time I reach for my sweater I’ll mark the spot for a turbine installation.
Hick power
No other county in the Atlanta area has a higher daily influx of backwoods yokels than Fayette County. At all hours of the day one will witness a herd of bumpkins crossing Highway 54 at the courthouse on their way to a fancy feeding. So enamored are these hicks of our metropolitan city-life they’ll cut another hole in their belts and come visit with regularity. I say we concentrate the collective energy of these rubes and create an energy bank. It’s a simple idea: A series of hand-crank generators will be placed throughout the county at various sites where there is a high concentration of hayseed sightings. The cranks will be labeled, “lucky crank- turn until you tire”. As you can see our energy needs will be satisfied for generations. The first crank will be installed at the Twisted Taco waiting area.
Periodic blackouts
Lowering demand for power will in turn reduce the price to consumers. By forcing the demand down by periodically cutting power to the county at random times, we can reduce our dependency on electricity, lower our bill, and serve as a boon to whatever stores still sell candles. Since the power can typically go out here for no reason on a nice spring day, we are more than prepared for this minor sacrifice. This has been successful in many countries from Thailand to Syria.
Clearly I have the vision to lead our county into the next few months or so.


Larry Thack’s Step-grandchildren are a major disappointment

It’s Rotting Pumpkin Time Downtown! 11/01/2014


One of my favorite traditions in Fayetteville is the Rotting Pumpkin Walk at the courthouse. Every year parents work very hard carving pumpkins the kids then pass of as their own when they take them to school. Here they are proudly displayed by each class while parents and kids alike enjoy the variety and quietly ignore the diminishing participation among the parents. I mean kids.
The fun really begins when some unfortunate victim of the holiday gets an early prank when he gets to transport the rotting fruits to the courthouse square. This year somewhere between nine and thirty schools were represented. All manner of creations were represented from the tired, old three-triangle design to the objectionable unscary cartoon characters and princesses. I have a particular affinity for the painted ones. The artist clearly didn’t want things to get too messy. Smart thinking!
This year things were done a little differently. In past years you’d park somewhere downtown and stroll among the pumpkins that would wind through the courthouse square’s expansive grassless lawn. Now, some forward thinking citizen has displayed them so no one has to get out of his car! Smart! I can drive by anytime with the convenience of fast food in my lap. No more will I run into the parent of that kid who had a run-in with my daughter when she had that biting problem. Yesterday I saw a man videotaping the scene from his car, presumably to watch later in uninterrupted comfort. Bravo Sir!
There were some real winners rotting away this year. My favorite was the Jack ‘O Lantern that was also a working clock. One second grade class made not a single incision in any pumpkin. Very progressive! One was so rotted it was likely done by a parent/child a little early trying to get a jump on things only to watch it become the class’ worst. That seemed to happen to me yearly.
My favorite part is that you have the option to just leave your pumpkin to rot on the courthouse lawn.

The Dump 08/28/2015

When I’m feeling down I like to visit one of the county’s finest spots, the waste transfer station on First Manassas Mile also known as the dump. Just a short drive off Grady Ave in Fayetteville leads you to this Spa for contra-hoarders. Throwing away my wife’s possessions always gives me a feeling of “job well done”!
The people here really make the dump a dump. There’s the guy with the hat, the girl at the front office, and the guy with the hat and stick. They’re all priceless. I’ve only had one conversation with the guy with the hat. He explained to me that if I would only break down my cardboard boxes into a flat stack then it wouldn’t create so much work for him. He then pushed a button that flattened my boxes and an additional three hundred others in about twelve seconds.
The girl at the front office is always bright and cheery and freely converses with all her customers. She has created a word that repels people off her small porch and gets them on their way: g’ed. This may be translated from, “hello, how’re you doing today? Okay thanks, you may go right ahead sir. Have a fine day!” I have been frequenting the transfer station on Manassas Mile for nearly a century now and she hasn’t aged a day! I have seen her go through several phases from Punk rocker, to Preppie, Folk singer, and hungover. I twice interrupted her guitar lessons during the folk phase. She just looked up and said, “g’ed”.
The guy with the hat and stick is always so friendly. He doesn’t speak but he smiles at everybody and everything- even trash!
Usually I’m just there to recycle and there is an unwritten rule at the recycling area that you can’t speak to your fellow recyclers. You may only walk gruffly to and from your car with your recyclables. It’s always been a curious thing to me that people avoid eye contact and conversation when they’re doing such social-goodness. Altruism isn’t enough to cause a smile for some reason. Maybe it’s because everyone is sneaking in something on the “NO” list that is clearly displayed over the giant receptacle. From Styrofoam to toys, dirt, and bricks, we’ve all slipped in something- am I right?

Larry Thack has bats living in his Sunsetter Retractable Awning

The Saddest Man in Town 7/19/2015

He doesn’t know it yet, but the guy who lives at the cul-de-sac at the very end of Burch Road in Fayetteville is about to become miserable. His sleepy dead-end street is soon to be transformed into a trafficky madhouse of yuppie mountain bikers, pot-smoking teenagers, and various loud-mouthed do-gooders.
That’s because The Southern Conservation Trust is at it again with a new project they are calling “The Ridge”, a series of mountain-bike and hiking trails in Fayetteville. Well-known in the area for the Line-Creek Nature Center, Sams Lake Bird Sanctuary, and that giant wooden sidewalk behind “The Fred”, The SoCo Trust has done more than any other organization in the county to make this place livable and interesting. Unfortunately, just like the medieval Crusades all good-works have their casualties. These fine trails are surely going to test our Sad-Man on Burch Road. He’s retired now and his daily routine is about to change….
On a typical morning our Sad-Man would normally retrieve his morning paper in total solitude. Now, a steady stream of cyclists will interrupt his morning routine. These people are the worst, by the way. For some reason they spend more time undressing in the parking-lot than doing any actual cycling- so, he has to deal with that. Our Sad-Man has this little dog that barks with a lot of treble and moves like a Radio Shack toy. That little guy is going to be on runaway-alert every morning now as it attacks these leisure seekers. Mid-morning when our Sad-Man recovers from these pretentious bastards with their bicycles that cost more than his Honda he will now succumb to an unyielding train of school buses that ferry students to the trails. No longer will our Sad-Man take an afternoon nap as he’s too busy picking up Capri-Sun and Nutter-Butter packages- the most common waste-product of the modern day field trip. Because he is completely fed-up with the whole thing he will undoubtedly abandon any empathy for the youth who begin to inhabit the trails right around four o’clock after school and blanket the Sad-Man’s private hamlet with clouds of marijuana smoke. Don’t worry Sad-Man, soon enough they’ll begin to scatter as the office and hospital workers infest the place after work. After a full day chain-smoking and eating processed foods these poor fools think they can burn it all off with a .6 mile hike through a field of tics. That’s what’ll surely depress our Sad-Man most of all.
I’m on your side Sad-Man, and I know you need your revenge. Maybe set up a hot-dog stand at the trailhead.


Larry Thack was awarded a Pulitzer for this piece in the category “Most Hyphens in a Short-Essay”

Mop on a PowerLine

For over a week now there has been a mop hanging from a power-line in my neighborhood and as such I have taken it upon myself to form a neighborhood association.
If I’m to succeed I need to build a coalition of like-minded residents and that’s why I’m starting with a guy a few houses down who also has no grass. Strolling to his house I notice many of the things I would like to put a stop to. Many houses have badly damaged venetian blinds, mailboxes surrounded by dead plants, birdbaths, an abundance of stumps, a man living in a tent, and a Coke machine in a driveway. I hope to ban all of these eyesores but to start I’ll settle for people not parking in their yards. Noting all of this on my clipboard I pass under the hanging mop and reach my grassless neighbor. Although only two adults live in this house there are five cars in the driveway, but none in the garage which I have seen open only once. The garage is packed full of boxes precluding a skateboard, much less a car, from parking inside. A lot of my neighbors seem to have these tacky car collections which I hope to compel concealment of as well. Greeted only by cats and not getting an answer I move on. I guess he has a sixth car.
I’ll try across the street. This guy keeps up his house nicely and even uses a lawn service but in all my years I’ve never seen him outside. He seems like my kind of guy but a couple years ago my grandchildren kept track of a pizza box that sat in his yard over the course of several visits to see me. No answer here either. Next to him lives a hoarder and winner of the 2002 Stinky Shoe Contest as reported in the Fayette Citizen. I’m not likely to find a partner there so I’ll skip him and sneak behind the nicely manicured recluse’s home to a promising stretch in the neighborhood.
Generally the site of domestic violence, this sharp turn in the street features the work of the area’s premier artists in the form of handmade signs: No Trespassing, Slow Down, Beware of Dog, all the classics are on display here. These people should be eager to join an association as they already seem to have an interest in rules-telling. My clipboard is starting to weigh me down as I approach this final house of the day. Wading through the rotting newspapers and garden hose(s) I hear screaming inside and it occurs to me that eventually someone will answer the door. I’ll just mail them a letter.
My grandchildren say we live across from a Trap house. I’m not sure if I know the Traps but I once fixed a garden-gate for the Von Trapps in Fairburn. Maybe they’re related.

Larry Thack will be working the door at the Bush show tonight at the Tabernacle

The Worst People in Town

I must say it is nice to be home. After almost a month of pretending to be in Cuba good old Fayette County is a pleasant place to be. I returned full of excitement and ready to hug my first fellow citizen of the county but instead found a series of disappointments.
The first such incident was at Church. Why is there always this guy, all by himself, who sits on the very corner of the pew in a crowded church? Beside him is thirty feet of unclaimed seating that he seems to be defending. He forces families of four, five, eight to trip over his ample feet as he gruffly tolerates passage. For many this jerk is the first human interaction you’ll have on a Sunday morning prior to worshipping our lord. Maybe he’s a good warm-up for the Old Testament.
Monday morning brings new hope but as I turn onto highway 85 at the Old Courthouse I encounter a traffic jam at the Donut shop that thwarts any possible good -day -having. This is nothing new, I just always forget when rounding the corner from 54 to 85 that so many people in this town need a donut in the morning they’ll shut down all northbound traffic. Fortunately, I suppose, the problem has gotten so bad that a policeman now directs traffic during peak feeding-hours. Our policemen do a nice job directing traffic at churches and schools, so this just makes sense.
No big deal, still in a relatively good mood and glad to be back….
I need to mail some post cards to friends I made while in Cuba so I’m off to the post office. This is generally a happy place for me as the postal workers within are often the only people in town who understand and appreciate me. They’ll have to wait while I wave this sloth across the parking lot in front of me. She doesn’t appear to have any physical ailments that slow her down but she crosses the road with a lifelessness that makes me consult my wristwatch. This isn’t so bad, now I can finish this last postcard as she sweats out last night’s bag of Classic Lay’s into her tracksuit. She has almost reached my hood ornament now and it is clear to me that she finds some overwhelming comfort in the asphalt’s touch and can’t bear to let it go as she creeps to her oversized luxury sedan with the tissue box in the rear window. No wave, no thank-you, no acknowledgement of any kind.
So I guess it’s welcome back Thack!
I’ll see you bastards in hell.

Larry Thack is an ESL tutor at Christian City

Graffiti Artist Destroys Downtown Landmark


Over the past couple of weeks some hooligan has graffitii’d the side of the shops along highway 85 across from the courthouse. It’s facing the corner where those fresh-egg salesmen put their Gypsy curses on you as you pass, eggless. Shame on you graffiti artist! We love our blank spaces in town here. In fact we even have a mural, ironically, on the other side of this row of buildings.
This is not just any old graffiti though. It is a brilliant dupe of perspective that lures in a pedestrian. It fully appears that what is actually a wall is a set of stairs that opens into a parklike space with a welcoming blue sky. I personally have smacked into this wall on countless visits over the last few weeks believing it to be some new path in town.
I do applaud our little felon for working so hard in these trying times. I’m not sure how he managed to get the paint to stick with all this rain. I saw the sun on Wednesday and thought it was the apocalypse. The good lord has cursed me with drought, plague, hand-sized feet, no wi-fi, and shovel-failure, but never have I seen rain like this! No golf, no strolls from Dunkin Donuts to Rosa’s Home Cookin’, no Kayaking at the Ridge. This is not what Fall in Georgia is supposed to be like! I’ll typically spend all day raking-up leaf piles into which I jump, then stare at the cloudless blue sky and imagine a Trump presidency. Now all I do is stare out of my single-pane cobwebbed windows and imagine graffiti artists sneaking into downtown as soon as the rain breaks to further humiliate our town.
My thanks go to Councilhuman David Barlow for spearheading a mob to track down the Graffiti artists.


Larry Thack’s “Narrative of Redemption” like Ben Carson, includes a stabbing, but also a series of quotes from Limbaugh’s “The Way Things Ought to be”

Fayette, Safest County in GA?


Recently I saw some facebook post ranking various counties and cities by their safety, or low crime rate. Fayette County was given high marks! Peachtree City finished something like 3rd safest in the “large city” category- probably because beating up the tennis pro for sleeping with your wife generally goes unreported. Fayetteville finished somewhere in the top ten for medium size cities. You’re medium sized when you get a Longhorns and an Olive Garden. The fare that’s served at places like these is clearly the most criminal of all activities occurring in Fayetteville. Dinky little Tyrone finished a very impressive 3rd or so for small communities, not too shabby for a virtually non-existent place.
But let me clear things up here- None of these places is safe!
On more than one occasion in Peachtree City I have been brutally injured. Some deviants at a golf course that will go nameless repeatedly turn on the sprinklers when I approach the fourth green. The powerful water surge cuts my frail skin like a scalpel. Bleeding and drenched I always swear I’ll never come back to this place. Peachtree city is also psychologically unsafe for me. As a younger man the book, The Stepford Wives was tightly based on me, and flashbacks come in heaps just driving through the rancid place.
Fayetteville’s no prize either. I have been run down by traffic during my morning walks, mugged and beaten, sexually assaulted, and inquiried. All of this perpetrated by doughnut gluttons in front of that pastry-hut that causes the traffic jams on highway 85. So crazed and eager to add to their distended stomachs that I am a constant victim of their tramplings. Now you know why there’s a police officer stationed there in the mornings!
Tyrone’s safe enough I guess. Unless there’s a motorcycle gang hanging around that flashing light. Sometimes that lone flashing light will attract trouble. Tyrone does seem pretty safe but when you start to resemble a ghost town you become susceptible to Hollywood these days.

Larry Thack just got his thumb caught in his zipper

Pledge, Drive, Die #2

As you know we’re finishing up week two here at the PBS pledge drive and my job as a security specialist has me out in the field. Last week I explained how PBS is using the “driveway moment” to trap listeners in their cars so we can extract badly needed pledges and donations. As the freeloading listener sits foolishly in a parking lot or perhaps an actual driveway a member of our team will sneak into his back seat and begin a conversation about how much money he will be contributing to PBS this year.
This year I’m training some new recruits and they all say the same thing, “Larry, if I climb into someone’s back seat and ask for money they might shoot me.” Fortunately there isn’t a single PBS listener who owns a gun. Furthermore, I have two rules for new recruits: Don’t get in the car unless you hear the tranquil sounds of our programming and only approach the car of someone who appears to be a meek coward. If the door is locked, then just knock gently on the window. A typical PBS listener will surely unlock it for you. Once you’re in just confirm his level of sponsorship, oh and if he claims to be a sustaining member make sure you verify his updated credit card information, we’ve been having a lot of trouble with that lately.
Of course my job here is purely volunteer work for me and I don’t take payment, but NPR grants me one request after every drive. One year I was able to get foreign correspondent Eleanor Beardsley to recite some Coleridge poems. Her bizarre accent mixed with his peculiar words made for a most pleasant evening in les banlieues. Another year I was able to get the Tappet brothers from “Car Talk” to fix the captain’s chair in my motor home. Sometimes it would just start sinking down like a bad office chair and I could barely see over the steering wheel. One year I guess I did make a little money. I received a nickel for every time they used the phrase “sectarian violence” on morning edition. Old Thack filled that complimentary tote bag with nickels that year!
To make a “Larry Thack” add equal parts Blue Bell Vanilla Ice cream and Spiced Rum. Garnish with mint leaf

Pledge, Drive, Die

Twice a year I’ll come out of retirement to work security at the PBS pledge drive. Things can get pretty rowdy at our local headquarters of WABE and it’s my job to keep everyone cool in this high-pressure environment.
The days are long at the phone banks waiting and pleading for the funds we need to survive. The staff gets tense as their jobs are always on the line and it doesn’t help that you have all these bright and shiny volunteers floating around on their altruism to ruin your day. You could go a month without seeing COO John Weatherford in the studio, but now he’s there all the time lambasting the staff for the nickels and dimes that are trickling in. Don’t let his even and calm tone fool you, his demon will come out as soon as his chai latte gets cold. The goals always seem to be met at the last possible minute and that can lead to a lot of stress. Last year Steve Goss angrily cleared off a buffet table then quietly lowered his gaze and asked everyone if they were “feeling lucky”, all because a volunteer got some powdered doughnut sugar on his sleeve. Lois Reitzes, host of “Second Cup Concert” among others got a shiner at the close of last year’s Fall drive when “Marketplace” host Amy Kiley put a tote bag over her head and starting beating her with a wireless keyboard, compliments of LeapFrog. Apparently Lois had made some comment about how her listeners were the only ones with any class and money.
Of course, only part of the job is down at the station. Very often I’ll have to go throughout the community in search of leeches who are listening remorselessly at everyone else’s expense. In the old days they’d have me go to Waldenbooks and coffee shops to rough-up freeloaders but the station’s appeal has grown and now I may be deployed to office parks and hair salons. Still however, our largest group of listeners and broadcast bandits do so in their cars. Confronting people while driving is the hardest way to wrest payment from these criminals so we started to promote what’s known as the “driveway moment” in order to trap these felons. Pretty simple idea devised by “Morning Edition” host, Steve Inskeep. He figured anyone who remains mindlessly sitting in his car upon reaching a destination would almost certainly be listening to NPR and given the high probability that this person is also stealing-radio, this sort would become a sitting duck for our squad of justice hunters. We’ve been talking-up driveway moments for years now and it has worked! Our capture to confession ratio has skyrocketed since we launched this operation, and it certainly seems to help that this is a moment of weakness for the listener. Often I’ll even get them to pledge for past-year’s offenses!
We’ve got another pledge week ahead of us. Stay-tuned!

Larry Thack coined the phrase “Live, Laugh, Love”

An Open Letter to Councilperson Steve Brown


Recently I found myself in downtown Fayetteville wandering around the Old Courthouse. I was entertaining friends from out of town and in such cases I usually end up at our local treasure, the world’s longest courthouse bench. What did I spot on the ground but a bundle of letters? Lately I have had the suspicious misfortune of happening upon such things. As I’ve determined no good way to deliver this “lost mail” I will put forth the contents here so the addressee might possibly receive the message. The addressee was the same in all cases, our very own Governor Steve Brown!
From the Dept. of Driver Services: Mr. Brown, we regret to inform you the custom vanity license plate you requested, DEMONCRAT 1, was denied for exceeding our character limit. May we recommend in its place the alternative, MOONBAT 9, or LIKCAT5. The second alternative may not be applicable but all the gals here in the office really like that one and can’t believe nobody took it yet.
From Ronald Reagan impersonator David Barlow: Dear Mr. Brown. I just wanted to apologize for the attacks you suffered at the paws of my dog Baylee recently. We were trying to enjoy a quiet afternoon at the PTC Dog Park and when you emerged from the adjacent disc golf park throwing a Frisbee and wearing a pink shirt let’s just say Baylee lost control. I fully intend to replace the visor she chewed off your head and took into the woods. Would it be possible for you to accept a gift card to pay for it? I am no longer allowed in the establishment that sells the headwear.
From Kickstarter.com: Greetings Steve! We thoroughly enjoyed your video presentation for your new business proposal. An upscale craft beer bar that caters to working, single adults completing their college degrees is a fascinating idea. Your “LagerGoggles” franchise is sure to be a hit nationwide. What America needs now are more places for out of work yuppies to seem sophisticated. If however your idea was for a coffee shop called “The Tea Party” which is similar to other coffee shops but only has copies of the Weekly Standard and National Review, then we didn’t like that so much. Sorry, but there were like thirty guys named Steve Brown who submitted videos this week and we mixed up some tapes.
Glad I could relay these private messages to you sir.

Larry Thack just got an $80 bill for Chinese Takeout

I’m Running for Mayor or Something

I have never understood what moves a person to enter politics. There doesn’t appear to be any money in it, the hours are brutal, and there’s always a steady flow of losers trying to annoy you at the grocery store.
But the other day I was affected by events that made me reconsider my entry into the arena that is “public service”. Maybe the name is why I’ve always questioned the career. After all I don’t care much for the public, and service is a bit of a commoner’s task, but let the mere nomenclature not distract me from my cause. I am looking to change our city for the better- for the passion I felt that day had to be not unlike a politician’s. I was moved, almost religiously to change my world.
So, the stoplight at highway 85 and Lafayette Drive must be destroyed. The other day I sat there with at least a dozen other cars who parked like fools for nearly a full minute as this stoplight ceased traffic for no apparent reason. No cars, pedestrians, or squirrels crossed the street at the aid of the light. Anyone who travels this busy road knows what I’m talking about—the stupid light does this all the time. The other day around four PM this light had traffic backed up so far that an ambulance couldn’t get around the rows of powerless passengers. We all watched the desperate hospital-wagon honk and blare and edge into any little crease it could in the traffic with no success. Finally it just turned off its lights and sirens. Its transport had expired.
Of course the dying patient in the ambulance wasn’t what moved me to enter politics. It was a lonely evening the other night, with no cars in any direction I sat trapped as the light stayed pointlessly red for an eternity. I wanted to blow that light out of the sky. I wanted to climb up the phone pole and chew through the wires. I screamed some Poe to an audience of none, “what demon from the depths of hell created thee?!”
If elected, I propose the razing of all properties adjacent to the stoplight and the public demolition by means of explosion of the stoplight itself.

Larry Thack can’t understand why the Coneheads are so popular.

Crisis in Fayetteville


Surely you’re all aware by now that Rosa’s Home Cooking located on highway 85 will be closed for a couple of weeks. This vacation for the staff at Rosa’s is well deserved but does create for me a personal crisis as my bones creak when not regularly lubricated by her sweet potato soufflé. While restaurants of this ilk are rare in the area we fortunately have a few from which to choose.
The Ingles Deli is your standard “meat & three” and they do a terrific job. I’d eat there more often but one of the workers there wants me dead for some reason so I usually just get it to go. Better make sure you have your bone saw on you when it comes time to get through the plastic wrap. I give the Ingles Deli a three and a half whale oil lamp rating for their consistent performance! (A note about my revolutionary rating system: Many reviewers use stars or diamonds while my system is completely unique and esoteric. I use whale oil lamps to rate the quality of the food, atmosphere, and service.)
Papa Lou’s on Highway 85 in front of the concrete industrial park gets a four and a half whale oil lamp rating due to it never giving me heartburn. The Spartan yet well-decorated dining room is adorned with pictures presumably drawn by a relative and the high definition close-up photography of plated meals reminds you of what is only a four foot walk away. I enjoyed an episode of “Cheaters” while I dined and Papa Lou himself watched alongside after a busy lunch rush. If you’re not familiar with the show “Cheaters”, a cuckold will enlist the help of the “Cheaters” team which follows the villain, videos the offenses, then confronts the cheater. All of this is taped ending with the victim customarily beating both guilty parties senseless while security offers mild resistance. It’s even better than Disney Channel’s, “Dog with a Blog”! My favorite vegetable at Papa Lou’s is the mac n cheese while the Yam casserole reminds me of nothing in particular but happens to be excellent. The staff is always friendly and patient which is very important as I witnessed and participated in several dumb questions which were smoothly and politely answered.
As one of the badly crippled cheaters vomits into a pool of her own sweat and blood Papa Lou turns to me and smiles. I return the smile only to have the scene interrupted by the arrival of his famed fried green tomatoes. This dish is not a fad for Papa Lou: the perfect thickness, face-affecting tartness, crisp coating, appropriate oil level. A+ Sir!
Soon I will explore the growing restaurant scene in Griffin and submit my reviews.


Larry Thack will be signing autographs at the Banana Beach Tan on Saturday. Reservations recommended.

It’s been tough going since I was fired by the newspaper. You should know friends that I haven’t just stood by and taken this banishment- I have been writing down all my threats and complaints, but the city keeps painting over them!
Things have gotten even worse since they shut down the town newspaper. I sure loved that paper. I delivered the afternoon edition as a boy, slept under it as a teen, advertised my business as an adult, and required it in my older age.
I delivered the Town’s evening paper from eleven to eighteen. My afternoon paper route was full of degenerates. Mr. Woolwine had a microphone in a pumpkin for Halloween. He didn’t scare anybody though. Mr. Little had two non-running Corvairs in his garage. The speed junkies in the duplex only got Sunday delivery, and they still dodged me on collection day. I took shortcuts around cliffs and through dog-infested back yards. The worst I ever done was shoot rubber bands at old man Morrison’s dogs. They’d prowl around their ten-by-ten-foot bare dirt pen snarling epithets. These were two very unattractive dogs- Pit Bulls. And it was still decades before we invented Pit-Bulls! Morrison ended up in the VA and his dogs were euthanized.
At eighteen(ay-deen) I was drafted into the service. There wasn’t a war, mind you, that’s just what they would do to eighteen-year-old paper boys at the time.
By and by, I opened a grocery store in town and advertised in the paper. We’d run a three page color insert every Wednesday. I calculated the coupons from those inserts drove thousands in losses, keeping me humble in the eyes of the Lord. This partnership continued for years until I was killed in an elevator shaft accident. Actually, check that, I was just “hurt.”
Later in life I’ve come to rely on the paper as my primary activity and means of pleasure. I’m aware that TV is way better, I just can’t figure out how to use it.
Yes, it’s been quite a blow losing that newspaper.
If there was only some way I could continue to communicate my progressive ideas to our needy village without actually talking to anyone.
Well congratulations friends- I have achieved this goal by means of www.LarryThack.com, your new source for alternative facts.

Larry Thack was sent an Angry Text by Someone in Hospice

11/8/2014
You don’t have to look closely to see the tragedy on our roads this time of year. In fact, you might be responsible yourself. Every year just after we turn back the clocks for daylight savings time there is an inordinate amount of road-kill on our streets. Every fall these innocent nut-harvesters are leading peaceful lives and trying to raise their families on and around our streets when suddenly the roads are full of traffic an hour earlier than usual. Our desolate, peaceful, suburban streets now transformed into slaughterhouses.
Who benefits from daylight savings time? The lazy high-schooler that needs an excuse to be late for work on Sunday-YES! The farmer who now must wait an extra hour to cash his subsidy check? NO! The golfer who just lost the ability to put in a good half-day at work and still get in 18 holes? NO! According to these examples, daylight savings time doesn’t seem to be helping anyone!
These deaths are the consequences of our selfish, anachronistic, and weird policy of changing the clocks. I’m not going to start a campaign to change things or anything like that. I tried to get everyone to use the metric system once and that didn’t go so well, so I’ll just let this go I guess. The real problem is that it’s just hard to get everyone to change, although we seem pretty good at changing the damn clocks twice a year. Anyway I just hate to see all these pointless deaths. When we turn back the clocks we are signing a death sentence for opossums, muskrats, armadillos, woodchucks, and squirrels throughout our community. Please keep an eye out for these brave citizens as they adapt to the time change this fall.
There will/might be a candlelight vigil for our fallen chums at the Courthouse this Tuesday at Dusk.

11/15/2014
I’m sure we’ve all seen the construction around the Fayetteville Graveyard just west of the courthouse complex. Usually while sitting in traffic there on highway 54 I like to catch up on emails and do a little texting but now I’ve been distracted by the macabre goings-on. I decided to pop over one day to check on things because we all know what it looks like they’re doing.
I conducted a series of interviews, did some soil testing, and loitered in the area under the guises of a jogger, griever, and cat-walker. My thorough investigation shows that no corpses were exhumed, no graves were disturbed, and no plastic flower pots with that green Styrofoam were removed. The company doing the construction is legitimate and not the rumored front-company for the cadaver black market. Turns out they’re just building a sidewalk and erecting some fences. There are no ghouls dressed as workmen, no grave-robbers with hard hats and clip boards pretending to be architects and engineers. In fact we have a real success story here. This sidewalk that’s being constructed will one day be an important thoroughfare for the town’s pedestrians. It will be the Via Appia of Fayetteville! Soon you’ll be able to travel from the Board of Ed. to the abandoned daycare without turning an ankle on a root. I look forward to the day when after I complete my errands at the pool supply and carpet stores I might take a leisurely stroll downtown to shop for jewelry and collectables.
The sidewalk is quite nice. They’re using brick instead of concrete and it really dresses up our fine downtown. It’s a shame they didn’t get us to pay $20 to get our names on a brick like they’ll do sometimes. Makes good sense- The custom bricks help pay for the job and people truly delight in finding their names. I myself purchased a brick at Centennial Park and had a wonderful couple of days hunched over searching for my name. The joy I felt when I finally found my name etched on that brick was euphoric. Would that I could feel that again on our streets here in Fayetteville!

So rest easy citizens, all is well at the graveyard. Soon to be another prized attraction.