Special Ingredients: The Devil Comes Down to Georgia

What follows is not a geography lesson. I just felt compelled to write a little about the United States, being as I am so infinitely knowledgeable to have seen three parts of it.

Having recently moved to Georgia, I’m getting the full on effect of being in the southern states. Remember, these were the states that fought against us in the Civil War. Our evolution seems to have gone in different directions since then.

Admittedly, I’m only citing first impressions. I’ve been in the South a total of one week, so I can hardly give an in depth analysis of anything I see. On the other hand, I’ve got the benefit of a fresh perspective before I get numb to it again. And so far, what my fresh perspective tells me is that the Great Lakes region and the Great Plains are more similar to each other than either one is to the South.

Perhaps the most obvious issue would be the one of segregation, the thing we held a Civil War to fight. If you believe this, you’re just stupid. Trust me on this, nobody ever goes to war for a good reason (just like we did not enter WWII to stop the concentration camps). Afterwards, we can invent ways we were the good guys, the same as the other guys would do if they had won, the same as our country is doing right this minute.

But to prove my earlier statement by using a completely different point, the Civil War did not end segregation. Not by a long shot. The Civil War did not even really end slavery, and segregation did not even start to be scratched away at until the 60’s, but I don’t need to give you a history lesson here. The truth is, there are still a lot of people who believe blacks and whites should be separate but equal, as though this were not a contradiction in terms.

Nowhere is this more apparent than the South. Oh sure, the blacks seem to have their own culture. It’s almost a defense mechanism for having been excluded for so long. In Toledo, certain clubs and restaurants are described by using “ghetto” as an adjective to express the philosophical concept that they are mostly frequented by black people. The same was more or less true of Kansas, though it didn’t jump out at me so much there.

I’m not trying to get on my high horse here, but I honestly believe the reason for that is because the military has very much surmounted this problem. There may still be racists in the military, just like there are racists in the general population, but there are also a disproportionately high percentage of blacks and Hispanics. Plus, just for kicks, they tell us we’ll probably get shot unless we can learn to trust one another.

It’s kind of sad, then, that the attitude down here is so intense it has almost managed to bleed into military culture. I only mean to say I don’t think I saw another white person the entire first day I was here. When I did, they acted like they were overjoyed to see another one of “them,” and reached out almost immediately. Maybe that’s just southern hospitality.

What’s even weirder, however, is the process of driving through downtown Augusta trying to get acquainted with the area. You’ll be driving along a perfectly ordinary street, when suddenly you cross an invisible line and it’s like you’re in a different city. Suddenly, all the white people are gone.

I always considered myself a broad-minded fellow, so that idea that I’m buying into the public viewpoint has me somewhat concerned. However, and I’m not afraid to admit this, I wasn’t about to stop at any place in that side of town. Buying gas is one thing, but for me to go into a restaurant or bar and be the only white person there, I think I’d be somewhat frightened.

The unspoken question on everybody’s lips, then, is what about the gray people, those in between black and white, and of course here I am referring to Hispanics. That answer is simple: there are none. I’m serious, if you hang around in Augusta, everybody seems to fit into two neat little categories. I’m guessing Hispanics have decided to stay on post just to make things easier on everybody else.

If you recall the original point of this article, it is to highlight the differences between the South and the rest of the world. And, if you have spent more than a millisecond browsing this website, you’ll know that the primary concern of everyone here is religion. This just happens to be my next point.

When I was growing up in Ohio, religion was kept pretty quiet. There were a few kooks, there always are, but the main thing is that if you went to church at all, you didn’t talk about it the other six days of the week. If you did go to church, it was usually because your parents dragged you. I don’t recall anybody trying to talk to me seriously about Jeezus until I was a junior in high school (a traumatic experience that I talk about here).

Kansas is pretty much the same. To use Phelpsy as an example, the churches there tend to be a little more zealous and draw a little bit bigger crowd. I draw a regrettable parallel to Ireland, where the separate groups have grown so big they bump into each other. The more they bump, the more they tell themselves they’re “at war” with Satan, and increase their efforts to convert people. In Kansas, everyone seems to fall into a faction, and if you don’t, someone will try to advertise to you. In the end, I think it’s the same as Ohio with more kookiness.

But like I said earlier, the South is totally different from either of them.

I have never been somewhere where religion is such a part of life. It’s not only that you can’t drive 60 feet without smacking into a Baptist or Methodist church (or straight through, provided you’re going fast enough). It’s more than the fact that more than half the cars down here have Jesus fishes on them. What is perhaps most disturbing is they actually seem to get into it.

I work with people down here who sit at their desk listening to gospel music, that frequently profess to “need a little church.” Nobody has yet tried to convert me, and I’m not really sure I expect to be assaulted. It’s not like that at all. It just that religion seems to have seeped into the community to the point that they’re overwhelmed from a very young age and it beats the rest of the brains right out of them.

I don’t know how to explain it better than that. I myself am nervous about the sheer number of Christian bookstores, not to mention those other things. Maybe it gives the people a nice happy feeling, but as I am often saying, such things have their drawbacks.

Georgia, if you will recall, was the first state to require teaching creationism right alongside evolution in public science classes. Maybe that’s part of the slippery slope, just another way of encouraging young kids not to think. There’s a kind of religious ignorance that shoots through the general population that you have to see to believe.

And then there are more tangible things…

This brings me to my third and final point:: strip clubs. Well, if you know me at all, you knew I was going to get to it.

This was the most noticeable to me, but then again I was looking for it. What surprised me is that the South seems even more conservative than the Great Plains region, and I mean by quite a bit. In Kansas, they might erect a giant religious billboard right next to a porn shop with a very non-subtle message such as “Jesus is watching you masturbate.” That got a little tiring, but at least it showed that there was a battle raging on. I usually signed the petition once I got inside.

In the South, the battle appears to have been fought and lost. All through Kansas and Missouri, I saw huge billboards sticking out along the expressway advertising strip clubs and adult bookstores, which kind of die out by the time you reach Ohio, but at least the airwaves around Toledo are deluged by similar advertisements.

I didn’t pass a single billboard the entire time I was coming down to Georgia. I even expected that there would be a plethora of adult establishments just outside the military base (well, you figure). But, no, it’s like they hide them.

Finally, I found out from someone where the bar district was, and there are two or three at the end of the street. But they look like dives, and frankly I’m afraid to go into them. Drinking and looking at naked women is one thing, but I like to feel a little classy when I do it, not like I’m in the middle of a zoo with a bunch of shaved guys who don’t care that most of the dancers have more chest hair than they do.

I’m just saying, a guy’s got to have standards. Come the first four-day weekend I’m going to check out Savannah, because I hear there’s some good ones around there. Even then, I’m not hopeful.

And there I end my analysis (for the time being. Should it arise that millions of fans flock to this website demanding I expound on my knowledge of Georgia, I might write something more).

I’m not going to say Georgia sucks. I wouldn’t say that about anywhere I’ve lived. Having traveled a little, you find that people will complain about anywhere they live. The most resounding complaint is that “it’s boring here,” as though if they were just a few cities over there would be an endless supply of fun knocking on their door at all hours.

The question I ask these people is, what, exactly, are you hoping to do? I’ve discovered a bookstore I like to hang out in, and I’ve gotten active with the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship here. And then you always have the option of staying in your room. Everyplace is the same if you’re just going to do that.

To be perfectly honest, I’m having a great time here, and I don’t intend to change my mind anytime soon. Let’s just hope the Nazis stay in Ohio.