Oldsmar Flea Market: White Trash Paradise

As a young émigré who moved to the United States from the former Soviet Union during Reagan's first term, rest assured that I caught shit for just about every ethnic stereotype the Rocky trilogy and that prick Yakov Smirnoff threw at you lazy Americans. I'll never forget what my classmate Nick Vourlias wrote in my elementary school scrapbook: "When I write this, don't go running to your mommy: you big fat-headed commie." Jerk.

Because of such formative events, I soon began longing to assimilate and subsequently developed a deep fascination with true Americana, especially anything Southeastern—particularly our nation's third craziest state, Texas—in all of its deep-fried, subtly racist, War of Northern Aggression-acknowledging glory.

So when I got to central Florida (the west coast, yo) for a mini vacation this past weekend, I knew I wanted to get in on some cheap redneck thrills. And at the suggestion of my gracious hosts, Jimmy Palmiotti and Amanda Conner, I was promptly sent to the Oldsmar Flea Market to peruse my way through a mix of artifacts, antique treasures and fashions that seemed to universally date back to the early '90s.

The semi-outdoor market was easily the length of a football field and its many friendly, leathery vendors hawked an incredible variety of wares, from 25-lb. bags of peanuts to Coby cassette Walkmen, hats worn by Marilyn Monroe and live birds; porn sold by a geriatric redhead and what seemed like thousands of used VHS cassettes. It was like finding white trash nirvana strolling down those long aisles, all the while taking an anthropological survey of this sleepy town's interests and hobbies: shooting things, kayaking, golfing, reclining in spa tubs and handcrafted Adirondack chairs.

Below are some of the finds I came across at Oldsmar, make of them what you will. As for my purchases, I walked away with a backup Gonzo* Pez dispenser, the rare and elusive Wheelchair Guy Homie figurine and a $2.50 copy of The Fountainhead.

What a country!

Angel Toilet Paper Dispenser


Blowguns


Anti-Northern Sentiment Sticker


Festive & Unique Visors


Confederate Stickers


Ed Hardy Coozys


Equine Salt & Pepper Shakers


More photos can be found here.



*Gonzo was so misunderstood.

Malevolent Creation Guitarist Liar, Possible Crackhead

Earlier this week, a story started making the rounds on the Internet about how Malevolent Creation guitarist Phil Fasciana supposedly intervened during a convenient store robbery and saved the day by shooting the would-be assailant in the face with his own gun. All of this information, plus way more details, was sent via email to Blabbermouth.net, which chose to run the story.

Here's the first problem: none of it ever happened. The second? No one at Blabbermouth bothered verifying the events.

Even if the folks at Blabbermouth were tight enough with this Malevolent dude (btw: I've never listened to the band, but can tell they're death metal awfulness) to take the story at face value, there are definitely enough red flags in it to realize something was amiss. My biggest clue: that the "80-lb. crackhead" actually had two weapons. If you were a crackhead, which would you prefer: two guns or more crack? I know I'd go for the latter.

A British outlet called Rock Radio finally called Ft. Lauderdale police (of course it happened in Florida, where else?) who confirmed that none of this ever took place. They also stated that the last time local police encountered Fasciana, it was over a domestic dispute at his home in April.

Why did he lie? Was he trying to garner attention for MC's forthcoming tour? Was Fasciana trying to impose a new uber-brutal image straight out of the gangsta rappers' manifesto? Who know? And ultimately, who the fuck cares? He's in Malevolent Creation.

The bottom line is, this entire situation illustrates the difference between "blogging" and "journalism." Amen.