Hubbard, WI--The American Throat Singers!!

Now that throat singing has swept the nation, it's hard to remeber a time when these multitonal troubadors were an exotic curiosity. However, while the top stars sell-out concerts at record setting rates, and grace the covers of every teen magazine and respectable tabloid, America has yet to produce a major home-grown throat-singing talent. However, a quartet from suburban Hubbard, Wisconsin is confident that's about to change.

Several months ago, as the throat singing craze hit critical mass, unemployed ice-ceam truck driver Mike Gray convinced his friends the time was right to jump on the horse-herder bandwagon. "I figured, if these guys from Mongolia, or Tuba, or wherever the hell they're from, can make all these millions of dollars, well, surely people would rather see some throat singers who can speak English for a change." He then proceeded to perform some rather racist impressions which we'll skip over.

With his friends, Brett, Cody, and Whitey, Mike formed Huun Huur Too. Despite concerns that throat singing may not be biologically possible for Caucasians, Mike claims the group has made significant progress: "Cody's almost manage to make an overtone, or whatever you call it. I figure we'll be ready to record in a few months." He then made some more unprovoked racist comments which we can skip over.

If you want to see Huun Huur Too before they gets too expensive, just stop by Mike's apartment on Saturday afternoons and watch them practice. You guaranteed to see something--different.

Hardy, WV--A Cull Your Own Turkey Restaurant!!

Have you ever ordered turkey in a restaurant, only to be left bitter and cynical after being served a substandard bird? And have you ever thought, "If only I could have picked which turkey they killed in the first place"? I know I sure have. And so has Mabel Cartwright, owner of The Gobbler Hoke in rural Hardy, West Virginia (OK, the word rural was redundant). At The Gobbler Hoke, you know exactly which turkey you'll be eating--because you kill it yourself! How nutty cuckoo is that?

Mabel explains:"Well, I was pretty tired of getting bad turkey, so I thought, why not raise turkeys myself? And you know, you have to weed out the bad ones, cull 'em, so the good ones can live. And it turns out, killing turkeys is so much fun! I figured everybody should get a shot at it, so I started The Gobbler Hoke, and the rest is history."

Gobbler Hoke patrons are greeted at the door with a gun--for killing the turkey (oh, what fun they have)! For a small fee of $50.00, customers are taken out back to Mabel's pens, where they're allowed to shoot the bird of their choice, which Mabel's moderately happy staff prepares and serves to the customer. Gettin' hungry, I bet you are.

"Sure, sometimes things get a little carried away," says Mabel. "People start shootin' turkeys right and left. No skin off my butt, they gotta pay for 'em all the same."

Visitors should be warned, customers who shoot other people during their visit will be asked not to return.

Happy eating!!

Los Anos, NM--The Secret Timex Graveyard!!

The deserts of the West hold many secrets. Well, mostly, just the bones of dead guys. Oh, and the occasional dead alien. But on the outskirts of Los Anos, travelers can visit a newly discovered grave site--one who's treasures are encased in cheap gold-plating.

13 year-old Bobby McDuke explains how he discovered this secret. "Well, my friends and me were looking for a place to huff--I mean, to play, and we were out in the desert and stuff, and Brad said, 'Hey, what's this thing?', and I said, 'What thing?', and he said, 'This thing!' I said 'What thing?', and he said..."

To make a (very) long story short, they discovered a number of Timex watches buried in the sand. The more they dug, the more they found. Dozens, hundreds--eventually thousands were unearthed, and more are being found every day.

When asked whether his company had buried all these watches in the New Mexico desert, and, if so, why, Timex spokesman Ed Timex, Jr, declared, "They stopped ticking." He refused to elaborate.

You too can join in the dig at the Timex graveyard site. Bobby McDuke and his friends are renting shovels for $15.00 per hour.

Lockhorn, PA--American Formula 1 Breakfast

In the Philadelphia suburb of Lockhorn, Sunday mornings during the summer are filled with the whine of engines and the clinking of orange juice decanters. Here, in the restaurant of a Holiday Inn, American Formula 1 fans from all over the nation meet to watch the sport they love on the lounge's 32 inch tv.

Clive Dunbury, a British ex-pat, started the breakfasts 10 years ago. "Well, F1's not very popular in the States, so I thought it'd be a right smashing idea to gather all the fans together each week to watch the races. Bloody brilliant, I think."

For each race, as many as three dozen fans congregate on the hotel, often confusing guests who simply want some breakfast.

"I'm amazed at how many people are here," says Georg Mueller, originally from Germany. "I think we've got almost every American F1 fan here.

Clive disagrees. "There's one guy from Minnesota, and one from Oregon. They've never made it out. Otherwise, yeah, it's a bloomin' madhouse here most weeks."

Occasionally special guests attend, such as former F1 driver, and American, Eddie Cheever. "We figure he's got nowhere else to go, so we let him stay," explains Clive.

The breakfasts are held every race day during the season. Clive recommends bringing your own pastries. Considering the large number of Britons present, baked beans are encouraged.

Carswell, KY--The World's Weakest Telescope!!

Astronomy buffs may want to check out the small Kentucky town of Carswell. There, at the Sheldon Observatory, they'll find a unique item--what may be the world's weakest telescope.

Mike Sheldon, who runs the observatory from the back room of his mom's house, has this explanation for why he set out to build a telescope who's magnification is twenty times worse than the naked eye: "Well, I beleieve strongly in balance, and I kept hearing about all these Hubbles and things that were allowing people to see galaxies, and quasars, and protons and stuff. Well, I thought, we need to balance that out, and what better way than to make a really weak telescope?"

After three years of intense study, Sheldon hit upon the perfect solution. "I just picked up an empty Miracle Whip jar one day, looked through the bottom, and Bingo! Perfect for the world's weakest telescope. You can hardly see anything through it."

When reminded that a person can simply close his or her eyes and see even less than that, Sheldon begins trembling and whimpering.

Visitors can get their own foggy glimpse of the heavens between 7 pm and 4 am weeknights, and 6 pm and 5 am Saturdays. Mike Sheldon asks that visitors please knock on the back door, as knocking on the front door tends to wake up his mother.

Sameold, TX--Jimmy Dean's Death Car!!

When you're passing anywhere near the sleepy hamlet of Sameold, enjoy a piece of lemon pie at Darla's Cafe, watch out for chiggers, and stop by Jerry Burkett's house. Not for the aluminum siding Jerry put up last year, but for the fascinating exhibit he has in his back yard. Between two tree stumps is a rusted out 1978 Plymouth Volare. Nothing special in and of itself, except that Jerry is certain that he's the owner of Jimmy Dean's death car.

"It was about 1988, maybe '89, when it happened," Jerry explains, "and this Plymouth comes flyin' around at about 80-some-dd miles an hour, and wouldn't you know it, the damn thing hits a ditch or something and flips over. Jesus Christ, what a mess."

The driver was decapitated. No positive I.D. was ever made, by Jerry remains convinced the dead man was moderately popular country singer, television personality, and sausage maven Jimmy Dean.

"Well, really, who else could it have been?"

The response of "Practically anyone" doesn't phase Jerry Burkett.

"I know who it was. You don't think I know who it is when a man dies? What kind of dipshit do you take me for?"

Jerry brushes aside critics, who point out that Dean is still alive and living in Virginia.

"Bunch of Hollywood horsecrap if you ask me. I know what's what, and don't you forget it!"

Viewing hours are 8 am to 11 pm, 7 days a week. $10 per person earns viewers a "quick glimpse" of the car, while $25 per head gets customers the grand tour, including a free Jimmy Dean sausage biscuit. Flash photography is not permitted, but 8" X 10" glossies of the car, of Jimmy Dean, and of the sausage can be purchased from the gift shop in Jerry and his wife Sue's spare bedroom.

Welcome to America's Notspots

Ah, puns.

Everyone loves to travel, take trips, check out scenes, blow their minds, what have you. Fortunately, most people, unlike this blogger's father, don't care for long aimless drives to nowhere, miles away from any decent food or a clean restroom. So, travelers (or travellers, for our British friends) need to have some sort of destination in mind when they load up their cars.

But where to visit? With the economy sagging, can you really afford to hand Mickey Mouse or Uncle Sam a few G's at one of their expensive resorts? Of course not, I say! That's where this handy dandy blog comes in. Here, I'll be recommending some lesser known tourist destinations that are sure to leave your kids grinning and your spouse hungry for some sweet love. We'll maybe not that part, but you're sure to enjoy most of these sites. (Yeah, a few of these may be a little dodgy. Hey, it's not like you're paying for this, unless this has been collected by some very intelligent publisher into book form, in which case, you have my apologies and please buy my next book, please).

Just as a word of warning, some of these sites are a little out of the way. In fact, you may have some trouble finding them on a map. Well, I guarantee you'll have trouble finding them on a map. But didn't Cicero say, "The sweetest destinations are the ones we arrive at with great trial?"

No, never mind, he didn't say that.

Happy Traveling!