Arby's (created in Texas)

When me and two ladies from work went to Thrift Town, on Jacksboro Highway in far west Fort Worth, Texas, I decided to take pictures of the surrounding area while they shopped. In the same shopping strip as the thrift store was an Arby's with one of its original huge neon signs, which looks like a tall ass cowboy hat. I wanted to document this bad ass sign so I took this picture of it. I love the colors, maroon, yellow and white. And look at the words "HURRY IN" followed by a notice that the place is "OPEN LATE". So why be in such a hurry if it's open late?

My second ex-wife told me she once worked at an Arby's in Erie, PA, her hometown, and said that the 'roast beef' was actually a HUMONGOUS and heavy piece of frozen meat formed into a round ball that they cut up in the back. So just think of that when you bite into one of their roast beef sandwiches. I know they're good but that shit arrives totally frozen and in a huge ball-like mass.

Yeah, I want to "hurry in" and eat that shit. NOT.

Anyways, here's an interesting tidbit I found on Wikipedia.org about Arby's:

"In the mid to late 19th century, a saloon was founded in West Texas by a retired Civil War Captain, Daniel J. Arby. The saloon gained much renown throughout the pan-handle for it's fine southern food and large gaming hall. After five years of outstanding popularity among Texans, Arby decided to expand his saloon to neighboring towns where the menu expanded and included his famed roast beef sandwich and family recipe barbecue sauce. After generations of the Arby family passed down the recipes and the saloon chain gained popularity in the early 20th century, the saloon was updated to restaurant status and included nightly entertainment (everything from magicians to minstrel shows). In the 1930s the family lost almost everything as the United States fell deeper into the Great Depression and was forced to sell their beloved restaurant chain. The Arby's name changed hands over the next 30 years, being owned at one point by the great Howard Hughes, until it was finally bought by brothers Forrest and Leroy Raffel in Ohio, who were determined to own a fast food franchise based on a food other than hamburgers. The brothers were insistant on changing the name to the preferred name of "Big Tex," but that name was already being used by an Akron businessman. They eventually decided on the Arby's moniker, based on R.B., the initials of the Raffel brothers [1] and also because they realized they could accomplish this without changing the original name, thus Arby's, LLC was born. (By coincidence, R.B. can also be short for roast beef, the company's main product, a point which was used when the backronym "America's Roast Beef, Yes Sir" was used as an advertising campaign in the 1980s.) They maintained the cowboy hat logo in reverence of the humble beginnings of the fast-food chain."

UPDATE: This sign is gone. So is the Arby's restaurant. It's boarded up. This is why I take photos around town of stuff like this knowing at some time or another it will be gone to make way for something new, er, worse. It's important to document with your camera your surroundings because one day a picture you took something of will no longer exist.

RED HOT & BLUE: Guitar Pickin' Porkers

Went to lunch at Red Hot & Blue --- Texas, a BBQ joint that got its start in Memphis, Tennessee, with two ladies from work and painted on the dining room brick wall was the restaurant's icon, two pink piggies jamming with guitars.

As usual, I had my Nikon D50 with me and took it out of the bag I carry it in and took this shot.

Loved the neon strings for the guitars. The place also had real guitars and posters of blues rockers, including Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughn and well-known black blues artists that made the atmosphere excellent.

The food was very good too. I had the pulled pork bar-be-que sandwich. And classic blues songs were played over the sound system to boot.

MAY BE CRIP PUSSY

On a nondescript early Saturday morning a friend of mine, who comes over to get drunk with me each Friday night, left at 2:45 a.m. to go to a "massage" parlor on Cherry Lane near Mr. Jim's Pizza. He had called some girls from the back page ads in the FW WEEKLY before blowing them off --- the only one available was at a motel at Highway 360 and Lamar Street in Arlington and she wanted $175 bucks, with him saying, "I'm not driving all the way to Arlington." --- and decided to go to the massage parlor instead.

He told me earlier that a couple of weeks ago he went over to Fort Worth's east side, near Riverside Drive, and picked up a crack whore off the street and got a blow job from her and that after she was finished providing that service she insisted that he eat her out. He said he did it willingly.

"Black box," he called it.

He's a poet and I told him he should write a poem about his experience. He did so in his notebook full of angst and misery. After he finished writing it I threw it into my clothes that need washing basket and took this photograph because, as they say, it was dirty laundry.

Click on the photo of the poem to read it.

All night long, as he drank one Keystone Light after another, he kept saying, "I'm horny, man. I'm horny."

We were watching Skinamax.

After sobering up he left for the massage parlor, a place he said he'd been to a few times before, and that he would be back in an hour or so. When he returned he said the massage parlor was closed, which surprised him, and he instead drove across town to get head. He found another crack whore on the east side. Her location was on East Lancaster near the Presbyterian Night Shelter.

He said he paid her $40. "I coulda just paid her $20 but she could suck the chrome off a tail pipe." He said their encounter lasted a mere five minutes. I asked him if he'd seen any cops. "No. With this economic downturn they're not around much."