The lowly and largely misunderstood Town of Lamont, a measly fly-speck of a municipality pretty much right in the middle of a hellish geographical region our more sane and sober State Founding Fathers quite rightly bypassed in their pursuit of happiness and normal societal and/or cultural interactions, somehow managed to come up with yet another ham-fisted expression that was immediately and quite enthusiastically embraced by the language starved citizenry for miles around – much to the chagrin and consternation of proponents of Italian food the world over. Lamont, best well known for being the town without a public restroom as well as for the truly shocking number of people, both male and female, who answer to the somewhat tragic moniker “Bubba”, (Yes, these 2 events are unfortunately related! How could they not be?) seems to be forever grasping onto expressions from other sub-cultures and making them their own, regardless of how poorly fitting they are to a given set of circumstances and heedless of the obvious incongruity they present to the stark, barren, and largely rudimentary social and verbal landscape of the Scablands of the quite beautiful Palouse in the often underappreciated and disparaged eastern portion of the Great State of Washington, for Pete’s sake!“Well, I ain’t one of them foreign-phobes or whatever them people are who get all nervous and fidgety when some dern fool goes spouting off in some foreign dialect or whatever, so when a new and exciting foreign expression comes my way, well heck, why not use the dern thing every chance I get, for crying out loud?” said Gomer Bodine, 56, an area farmer/rancher. “Heck, as everyone knows in a 12 mile radius (roughly the size of the GLMA – Greater Lamont Metropolitan Area), we tried for years to coin a new expression somehow incorporating the much undervalued “Rocky Mountain Oyster”, (RMO!) with little enough success. Sure, those underappreciated verbal gems like “Here’s a Rocky Mountain Oyster in your eye” when slugging down a jelly jar of moonshine was appropriate and all (usually accompanied by that mysterious banjo music that seems to always be playing in Lamont at times like these!), but folks just never seemed to glom onto the dern thing. Then we tried the quite insightful “A Rocky Mountain Oyster in time saves nine”, but them cheapskates just quit eating the doggone things to save 9 of 'em and we eventually ran out of dadburned freezer space! Then, in an effort to counteract this, we began saying “Hey, that’s a one spicy Rocky Mountain Oyster!!” with one of them fancy accents from that movie “The Godfather’ or whatever, but we don’t like spices in these parts, (Whoa! Simple black pepper is even referred to as “The Devil’s Dandruff!!! I mean, come on!) so people would tend to still shy away from the hormone-laden (and quite disturbing!) delicacies. So, finally we just gave up and adopted “Hey, that’s a one spicy meatball!!” instead… Sure, that is one of them foreign expressions and all, but you can use it to describe just about every social situation – even ones that don’t have a dern thing to do with spaghetti whatsoever!” he beamed proudly, showing off his newly missing tooth! “Just the other day, my rancher cousin Skeeter Bodine (Sadly, he also has a rancher cousin named Skeeter Festoon, and this Skeeter ain’t that Skeeter!) – anyway, Skeeter came over to the house looking to borrow some beer or whatever and the doggone ingrate ended up spending the better part of an hour in our ‘facilities’, and when he finally emerged, looking slightly worse for wear, the wife could not help but exclaim “Whoa, Skeeter! That’s one a spicy meatball!” and, of course, we all knew just what the heck the little woman was spouting off about – which, if you spent any time around my wife is more of a rare occurrence than otherwise, I a-reckon!” he concluded stoically while glancing somewhat lovingly (for him!) at the mother of his 9 children!
(Editorial Note: The Lamont Blog is a family friendly news organ, and we refuse to entertain any unsolicited comments on the purported parentage of Gomer’s supposed offspring. Just because Gomer has brown hair and brown eyes doesn’t mean that he cannot be the progenitor of 3 redheads, and 6 blonds – each with either blue or green eyes, now does it? So, please confine your obviously nefarious thoughts to yourselves and let’s just move on, shall we? Let them sleeping dogs lay, as they say – whoever the heck 'they' are? Thank you!!)
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