My Fat Sheriff (Part 2)

In the North Carolina town where “House of Death” takes place, Sheriff Avery is not one who has to run a lot. His shape implies little to no crime although he does nab a kid in a grocery store trying to sneak out a “nudie” magazine. So, he is observant. He never actually wears a uniform-type shirt. All his tops are semi-fancy dress shirts with a badge pinned on. He’s a casual man; it suits where he’s stationed. The town is a very white piece of small-town Americana with carnivals, baseball teams and psychopathic killers.

Everyone seems to know the Sheriff. They joke with him, greet him warmly and one gentleman requests that he “Keep [his] powder dry.” (The actual words the man says are “How bout keeping your powder dry?) This is said to him as he is mopping his brow during a particularly hot one. I’m informed by a source (Prof. Lorraine Hoover, author of Colloquial Carolina) that this implies Avery should keep clean and sweat free so he doesn’t stink up the place. The Sheriff also commands respect as the pot smoking “kids” instantly cut it when he shows up. So, he does promote a message of “Say No To Drugs!” Dogballin’!*

To address the effectiveness of the Sheriff here is simple. The large law is one step behind but does manage to arrive in the nick of time and kill the psycho. When I say “nick”, I mean only after five people have been killed but three are left. His investigation is a little slow but his physique doesn’t lend itself to fast.

Unlike the other films, the majority of killings here are in one big burst at the end so the Sheriff’s culpability is low. (Although, something else is going on in an odd subplot.) The first couple killed, during the pre-credits foofah, are thought to have left own. The Sheriff insists that they’ll come back. This does not make the Sheriff culpable as the couple really seem to have gone out of town. He couldn’t have prevented it and one doesn’t get the feeling that he could have done something there.

About that odd subplot: It is between the Sheriff, Mona (the town screwaround), Casey (the town’s brain damaged inhabitant) and the Sheriff’s son (deceased). The Sheriff clearly hates Mona because of some car accident (?) involving the “kids”. Apparently, Casey was driving and the Sheriff’s son was killed. Mona came out of it unscathed. If anything, her boobs got bigger.

The subplot is never fleshed out. The viewer thinks it might amount to something but it doesn’t. In fact, the Sheriff is after Casey who goes missing. This leads him to the killer but none of it touches the subplot. In the end, he is the most effective of the three although lots of people die and that’s only in relation to the other two.

The Sheriff in “Offerings” is in charge of a small town in Oklahoma. He seems like a decent guy although a kid who is hiding nudie magazine fools him with the name “Ben Dover”. One imagines that this may be a new “goof name” in this neighborhood. The viewer imagines that the Sheriff is familiar with “Phil McCracken” or “Pat M’Groin”. The Sheriff’s job here is to act similar to the Sheriff in “Halloween”. Except, that Sheriff J. Chism is, frankly, larger.

In the end, the Large Arm of the Law shoots and kills the psycho. Once again it is in a “nick of time” manner. (See previous Sheriff.) Most of his time is spent following the killer’s psychiatrist as he hunts the killer. At the same time, the girl who is given the “offerings” also calls him in. He posts an ineffectual cop outside her house but refuses to give her all the skinny on what’s happening. In the end, he saves her but none of her friends. Somewhat effective.

As far as culpability, one gets the feeling he probably should have told the girls a little more about what was happening. Kids are disappearing, body parts are piling up and his attitude remains “Those kids just keep goofing around. No one worry.” It’s oddly presented because even the killer’s doctor implies that Chism should tell the girls what’s happening. But, he just doesn’t. He could have upped the ante on the “protecting the kids” issue.

Honestly, the thinnest of them all.

I’ve examined their effectiveness and culpability but now I would like to, briefly, compare and contrast some of their behavior and actions as they pertain to the main bodies of the movies.

All three men are corpulent; the first two verging on obese. This implies a lack of crime in the area as one would imagine more infested areas would need to have tougher cops. Now, the “Don’t Go…” Sheriff has his deputy to do more athletic stuff but still…these can’t be places that expect psycho killers very often.

All three men are rather terse. They have that southern “Now you wait a minute while I tell you what’s happening” attitude. The “House of Death” Sheriff is the only one who actually seems to get really involved (or be really involved) with the people in his town.

All three can become active when they need to be to very individual results. The “Don’t Go…” cop leads that posse but doesn’t actually meet up with the killer. Avery gets to the killer and actually shoots him in the head. Actually, in the face, which blows his head up. Sheriff Chism arrives in time to send a few shotgun blasts the killer’s way. Avery seems rather sadistic here. Especially, if you consider the circumstances. He has no real evidence that the person he’s shooting is the killer.** A man falls from a window into an outdoor basement entrance. The Sheriff’s response is to shoot this guy full in the face. Maybe less salt in his diet would bring him down.

They have different reactions to the main characters. The “Offerings” Sheriff doesn’t seem to know the girls but treats them friendly enough. The “House…” knows everyone so the treatment is different, more personal. He knows their stories. “Don’t Go…” doesn’t seem to get to know the potential victims at all. The cop plotline and the camper plotline runs separate until the bitter, elongated end.

It is fun to watch the three of them move, especially the first two. They sort of flobble along in an entertaining way. The viewer wonders how they will be effective against a homicidal killer. Well, the plot can adjust…

This is obviously a very cursory examination of a very important issue. But, under the chosen parameters, I believe we have covered all that has been sought out. The large law enforcement officer is an important part of thee films. We’ve seen that they are not as useless as previous scholarly work has stated. The slasher movie victims can be helped here because the law is always there at the end to shoot a couple of killers. Although, again, not always.

For more on law enforcement in slasher movies, see “Brock Johnson: Man or Myth?” by Dr. Greg Pinnick.

*Also from Hoover’s book. The meaning is an exclamation of raucous affirmation for an action or statement.

** I think. Something vague happens in a garage that may or may not lead Sheriff Avery to the identity of the killer.#

# But, does he actually know that there’s a killer loose at this time? Psychic Sheriff!? Tough to say.

Pray For David Burp!

Just a little Turbot News Flash!!! - From Cub Reporter Marlene Yurvis

Our Own David Burp, Prepared Beef Marketer, is taking his Jewelry Design Exam tomorrow. It starts at 9AM. We know that he's been getting A's in Placement, Polishing and putting that monocle glass thing in your eye and staring at gems. But, he has been having some trouble with Gem Identification and a few others. (The man can't tell an opal from an opposum.)

So, say a little prayer for Mr. Burp!! We wish him the best!

Results tomorrow!!!

(Along with the rest of My Fat Sheriff)

My Fat Sheriff

Hello. This article was sent to us anonymously. I've split it in half as it's a little lengthy. Have a good one! - Marlene

“A Brief Study of the Effectiveness & Culpability of Overweight Law Enforcement in the Slasher Film”

or

“My Fat Sheriff”

The slasher film, in general, is ruled by its formulaic elements. There is the Final Girl, the mysterious prologue, and some sort of remote or isolated location, sexual byplay and ineffective law enforcement. The purpose of this article is to examine the last of these elements in some detail. How effective is the law enforcement in slasher films? Also, how responsible are the aforementioned “Fuzz” for the events that occur? As there are many slashers with some kind of law enforcement in them, the current writer has chosen three Sheriffs who all share a common denominator: they are all what is euphemistically referred to as “big boned” or, to tweak the term slightly, “fat boned”. We will be examining the characters and actions of three corpulent cops as they relate to the previously mentioned points.
The three I have chosen are: The Sheriff from “Don’t Go In the Woods”, Sheriff Avery from “House of Death” and the character of Sheriff J. Chism from “Offerings”. All three are fairly standard offerings from the 1980’s with the last of these being a less stylish/ scare free retelling of “Halloween” set in Oklahoma.
For the benefit of those who may not remember the basics, here are brief plots for each. “Don’t Go…” is set in the mountains of Utah where a large hairy man with beads on his face is slaughtering groups of campers. Includes the classic scene with Dick and Cherry. “House of Death” takes place in a small North Carolina town at the end of summer. A killer attacks a bunch of 20-somethings (?) who are partying after the carnival comes to town. Features Susan Kiger from “H.O.T.S.” and a grown man-boy named Diddle. “Offerings” is about a young asylum inmate who escapes and, returning to his hometown, begins to kill the kids who picked on him when he was young. The “offerings” are given to the only girl who was nice to him. They consist of an ear, a finger and so forth.
We will begin with The Sheriff from James Bryan’s “Don’t Go In The Woods”. The Sheriff is in charge of county business, which implies that his jurisdiction is the woods where the killings are occurring. With the help of his noticeably lanky deputy, they set out in search of the big killer.
Before discussing effective and/ or culpable behavior, let’s have a quick look at the Sheriff and his character. The first time the viewer sees the Deputy he has been warned that the Sheriff is “busy and asked not to be disturbed”. However, the Sheriff is playing golf in his office. The first thing a viewer thinks upon seeing the golfing sheriff is “Those are the largest pants I’ve ever seen” and this could be a true statement.
The Sheriff is presented as a man who is rather dismissive of the reports that come his way. “Another missing person’s report…It’s the freakin’ call of the wild!’ But, he does investigate including a ride in a small plane, which he seems to teleport into, as they don’t show him climbing in. The trip involves this plane flying over the huge mountains while the Sheriff yells, “I’ll bet he’s not even down there! All in all, it seems a mite ineffectual. However, when proof is presented to him, he forms a posse and gets all the gun totin’ hicks he can to help him find the maniac.
The Sheriff is seen to investigate. He makes that plane ride. He does the manhunt. None of which is, frankly, effective. The disappearances occur in the woods but, until proof arrives, the plane ride is all he does. Perhaps if they had gotten closer to the ground earlier in the movie things may have worked better.
The manhunt is expansive. It lasts for 2 full days. The men, led by the Sheriff, scour the trees. The Sheriff gets off some of his best sweating here. He also is able to shift all the weight of the hunt from “Killer” to “Killer and mental case” when Peter (one of the lead campers) heads back into the woods to rescue a friend. This scene can be seen by choosing Chapter 23 “When’d and how’d it happen, Maggie?” on the Special Edition DVD.
But, in the end, even though all this man hunting is occurring, the two leads, Peter and Ingrid, find the maniac and kill him. The Sheriff and friends show up to point guns around when the killer’s dead. This may not be actually ineffective as the others happen to find him first but it certainly doesn’t mean the Sheriff succeeded. Possibly more men or, as we shall see, a more considered approach.
It is implied that the maniac has been killing for some time but the Sheriff either has been able to do nothing or done next to nothing. Frankly, it looks like the latter. He sweats, he hefts his pants and he mops his brow but doesn’t do much until the manhunt. None of which rate him low on the culpability scale.
The strangest moment here is during the manhunt. (Not counting when the first day ends and the Sheriff says everyone will come back in the morning because there’s “…not but one more place he could be.” (?)) The Sheriff tells the Deputy that he’s “going to the cabin”. Indeed, the Sheriff is seen strolling through the woods to the cabin where the Maniac lives. Oddly enough, he doesn’t say “Holy Cow! A cabin! What’s this doing here?” He yells “Hello in the cabin!” and approaches it. The implication to the alert viewer is that the Sheriff knows of the cabin, knows it’s inhabited but doesn’t seem to connect it to anything. Does he not know who lives there? As the Sheriff shouldn’t he know? Is the mortgage under the name “H. Wildman”? Frankly, the Sheriff should have immediately come here and questioned the owner. Surely, if they wanted to catch the killer, a mailman could have been sent with a package needing a signature. When the madman came out to sign, they could have grabbed him. It’s this sort of thinking that would have saved lives here. (By the way, he finds a body in the cabin but somehow the manhunt never really picks up.)
People seem to like this Sheriff but it must be because they think he’s jolly. One can see his tactics are ineffective (of all three discussed here, he gets the most screen time) and lead to more than a little (indirect) responsibility for some of the mayhem. But, it was this sort of character that prompted Turbot Tribune movie critic Cyril P. Drathmoor to say “[quote withdrawn]” His prayers were answered.

Turbot's Super Hero

The little girl's eyes opened very wide as, with a galumph!, the hindquarters of Lorenzo slid down the enormous reptile's gullet. Here eyes grew wet, wet and huge with tears that began coursing down her dusty/ dusky cheeks. She hadn't wanted to stop here. But, Dad didn't know how to fix the car so... Lorenzo got eaten. Ohmigod, what a day!

The eyes of the reptile peered from the surface of the green, scummy water that let off a stink that you could smell all the way through the hotel. What a stinkhole! How that old jerk who owned this hole could call this place "Judd's Haven" was a joke. But, Cathy wasn't laughing.

She just wanted to be going to Gramma's big, old trailer in Turbot. They were so close.

Now, Lorenzo would never get there.

The alligator burped. Its eyes stayed poised on her. She tried to stare it down but was too sad.

"Little girl, be careful!" Judd rounded the corner and pushed himself between her and the shattered porch railing. "What happened here?"

The girl stared at this man whose pet now watched them both. Maybe 55, gray, thin hair a little ways up the shoulder. He looked silly. His face was long and not attractive. A mashed nose, lazy eye and three missing teeth saw to that. He was kind of hunched and his hands, very close to her face, seemed larger than they should be. She didn't like him. His concern for her seemed very wrong.

"Did you do this to my fence?"

Cathy choked through tears. "That thing did it."

"Blake?" The old fart didn't seem concerned. He chuckled at his reptile in the stench swamp. "He's as gentle as a morning breeze."

"HE ate my dog!"

"Well, he does have a taste for 'em." The old man nodded.

"What?" Cathy's voice was trembling. "My-my dog, I mean...it leapt through the railing and ate it."

"I used to," Judd said slow, checking the swaying, torn wood of the railings, "have a sign bewaring people. Especially about bringing your dogs over. Blake'll smell it."

"He's done this before!" Cathy was starting to get angry. She should have yelled for Mom and Dad but this man's nonchalant attitude was getting her cute, young girl dander up. "Why is he so close to your hotel?"

"He's my pet. You had your pet close to you."

"Your pet ate my pet!"

Judd laughed and tossed an old nail at the water where it sat on top of green, bubbling congeal. The reptile's eyes flashed over at it and then back at people. "Now, that'll happen! Blake'll eat almost anything."

Cathy's eyes narrowed. "What d'you mean?"

Judd leaned close. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

"Blake's eaten people. People I don't like."

The girl looked at the old man for a long time. The water bubbled nearby. Blake burped again.

The old man got quieter. "You say anything and you'll follow your dog."

The reptile burped again and this time a dog's blood and bile soaked leg shot through the air and slammed into the hotel wall, sliding to the ground next to the old man with the threatening look in his eye.

"You know somethin', mister."

"I'm sick?" Relish shone on his gaunt face.

"That's what I was hopin' you'd say."

"Why?"

The little girl grabbed the top of her hair and pulled off a very life-like latex wig and mask.

"Oh my..."

Before the hotel proprietor stood a 40-year-old midget with a little girl's clothes on and a small box with a button on it. "Hello, Judd Dirkins."

"Who are you?" The old man looked scared.

"Sanders. Hieronymus Sanders, Animal Bounty Hunter."

"What?"

"Cover your ears."

"What?"

Hieronymus pressed down the button. And, a giant alligator burst into a 1,000 bloody pieces. Spraying the swamp and the hotel and the old man.

"Hieronymus Sanders!

Animal Bounty Hunter!

Be careful what your animals do!

He'll come for them and you!

Sanders! Hieronymus!

He'll even kill a hippopotamus!

Enjoy him!"

Yes, kids. Turbot's only real hero stopped the rampage of a crazed alligator. The clever little man got the alligator to eat a poodle with five pounds of plastic explosives crammed in its anus.

Master of disguise, righter of wrongs and a grown man willing to pack plastic explosives into a poodle's tush. He may not be a superman but he's our favorite man.

"Hieronymus! Hieronymus!

Each and every part of us

love that little man so!
He's tiny!"

ANKA RULES!!

(photo courtesy of paulanka.com)

Just a little equal opportunity!!!!

Anka Rules!!!!

His sweet song stylings are so great!!! You don't have to go to hell or die in a flaming pit of filth and offal to enjoy the music of Mr. Paul Anka! He will bring you home! He will be your destiny!!

- Marlene

(Yes! We finally got some pictures on here!)

(Thank you paulanka.com for the lovely photo. Give their site a try!)

BLACK METAL RULES!

My fellow Metal heads, I just want to say....

METAL RULES!!!!!!!

I'm Tim Patrick! I'm 15 and I am 100% Metallic! If you know what I mean!

Satan RULES!!!!! Now, I'm not talking nu metal here or your mainstream bones!!!! I'm talking ball*s to the wall and as* to the crack, European Black Metal! I like it loud, fast, raspy and all about Vikings!

I can smell the apocalypse and it stinks of the decaying flesh of a 1,000 rotting souls!

(Dognuts, let me tell you. Until, you have swum waist deep in the blood of the innocents, you haven't lived!!! I'm sure looking forward to it!)

There aren't a lot of us Metal Freakz!!!!! in Turbot. But, there are a few. Rod Berman likes Tool so there's hope for him yet. I slip in a little Cannibal Corpse whenever possible!!!!

1...2...3...Righteous! Oh yeah!

Stay tuned, Metal Knobs!!!! I'll be coming back with my reviews and my thoughts and my stories!!! Turbot rocks to Hell and Back!!!!

Your Mama!!!!!!

(For any of you Bones who don't know, that picture is of the best Black Metal band ever...Immortal!! They aren't around any longer but their metal grind lives on!!!)

Alyssa's Journal #1

My name is Alyssa May. I'm 28 and I live in Turbot. I work at Grey's on the Office Supply Floor. I'm an Assistant Supervisor. My job is to make sure everyone has all the pens, folders (file and otherwise), staples and stuff that they need. It's as exciting as it sounds.

For some reason, people seem to have the biggest trouble with staple removers. Someone's always taking someone else's staple remover. Why? Christ if I know. You haven't lived until you've had a bunch of office workers standing in front of you arguing over staple removers. It's great. You actually wish you could go deeper underground. Grey's!!

As you can imagine, I don't like the job very much. Oh, it's great when there's no one around. That's what made me start up a journal. I've got seven notebooks filled with this stuff. I'm, obviously, being very selective for this blog. Thank you, Marlene & Arthur!

I think a good example of the sort of fluff nonsense I have to put up with is this... A little something that happened this past morning:

One of our jobs is to open offices and conference rooms for people throughout the building. (It gets us out and about.) For example, T-4 is having a conference in Conference Room 4 from 3-4. We go there at 2:45 and open it up. At 4:15, we lock it. Rez, my supervisor, keeps all the keys. I'm handed keys when necessary.

So, they are having some sort of Training Day for packaging. I'm there at 7:30. No Rez. Gloria comes down at 7:45. "Why isn't the door open?" "I'm sorry. Rez hasn't shown up. He has all the keys." "We need the door open for training." "Gloria, I know. Rez isn't here." "Where is he?" "I don't know." "Do you have a key?" "Rez keeps the keys." "And, he's not here." "Correct." "How are we going to get in?" "As soon as Rez arrives, I'll run down with the key." "You don't have the key?" "I'm not the supervisor. Supervisors have the keys." "Did he say he was going to be late today?" "No." "Do you think he's OK?" "I'm sure he is." "That would be a real reason for being late, wouldn't it?" "What? If he were seriously injured?" "Yes." "You're right." "Well, send someone with a key soon." "Sure."

Gloria left. Thank God. Her silent presence can be tough to take but, God, when she talks to you... It's pretty rough.

So, 5 minutes later, I get a call from Rez. His trailer's power went out and his alarm didn't go off. He'll be here in 15 minutes as he's naked and afraid. "In my desk," he tells me, "2nd drawer on the left, under a file, there's a key to the conference room." "Excellent." So, I grab it and run on up.

Outside the conference room are about 12 people and none of them look happy. "I've got a key." I started opening the door. Behind me, it started. ... "Oh! Look at this!" "She did have a key!" "Oh, well then..." "Hmmm...that's very interesting." And all sorts of junk like that.

I sighed and tried to open the door, minding my own. But, of course, it was a tough lock and after about 10 seconds of fiddling, twelve people were right behind me and watching me closely.

"You've got to turn it! Turn it! Did you turn it?" "Too hard. You're turning too hard." "Don't break off the key! Be careful!" and on and on

The door finally opened but I got the worst case of Stinkeye that anyone that far underground has ever experienced. Gloria went out of her way to stop by the Supply Floor and act as if I had betrayed her. I don't know if it will ever stop.

So, I'm writing this at 1AM. I have trouble sleeping sometimes so what I'll go and do now is stand on top of my trailer. Mr. Lucassen next door'll have his TV on, flashing lights, but there's nothing else happening. I just stand there and let the breeze hit me. It's so nice, especially this time of year. I can feel it against my skin and my eyes close and I take a deep breath and I'm so happy. Five hours all to myself. Time to do what I want to do. Time to pursue the dreams I know I'm supposed to be after. I've stood on that trailer almost every night for the past two years and I don't think anyone has ever seen me. (Unless Mr. Lucassen is peeping.)

Some nights I want to yell. Loud into the wind. Yell for something I don't have... One night I will yell. You'll hear me. Wherever you are.

Turbot Tribune has some big news!

Hey everyone! Marlene here... The big story in this morning's Turbot Tribune! We knew "J. J." Not a very pleasant man but still...

(I transcribed this myself so forgive any misstakes (lol).)


Beloved Movie Reviewer Dies

Jack "J.J." Johnson, beloved inhabitant and home owner in Turbot since its inception, was officially declared "deceased" at 6:42 Turbot time, September 18. The official cause of death has been listed as "mysterious". But, there is nothing mysterious about what the man did for this town: he wrote our movie reviews! Apart from the Do-It-Yourself Page and the headline, his reviews were the most read portions of The Turbot Tribune for many years.

Jack "J.J." was a taciturn man who would tell you what he thought of a movie only after a lot of finagling. He reviewed the movies for 8 non-consecutive years. He reviewed them well. But, he really loved watching the fish. The majority of the week passers-by could find him staring at the small pond adjacent to Old Hagar's Swamp. Staring real hard and trying to get the fish to come out. Always ready with a joke or a story, unless you asked him for one. Then, he'd clam right up. "Never do anything under duress," he'd say. "Even question your Mother." Many folks knew him, before his critical reign, as the head of Shipping at the Prepared Beef Plant for 12 years.

F. Rupric Rondstadt, the Tribune's editor-in-chief, smiled as he spoke of this pillar of our small community. "Apart from fish watching, hopping in the car and going to the Rialto was the biggest joy of his life. Jack "J.J." really loved the trip. In the end, he's probably pretty glad about everything that happened to him. The new Rialto owners weren't his sort." In fact, on several occasions, the reviewer had expressed his distaste over the ownership of the Rialto recently changing hands. Word is that he was no longer given free popcorn. So, maybe he did get out at a good time. Maybe movie reviewing in Turbot isn't what it used to be.

One man would challenge this...

Drathmoor! Cyril P. Drathmoor! Turbot's new movie critic. "Hi, folks! I'm game for a little adventure! You?!" With that opening announcement, a new era in movie reviews has begun. His press release continues: "I love movies so very, very much. I hope that I can instill my giant love for the cinema inside the good people of Turbot!" He promises that he will have a review in every Monday edition as opposed to J.J.'s reviews that appeared whenever he made it to the theater. Drathmoor also promises a few new bits of excitement here and there. "I just want everyone to stay tuned! And, be sure to read every week!"

The man loves movies! That much is for sure.

Be there...From now to eternity.



I hardly know Cyril but we are interested in reading his reviews. Maybe he'll let us post them here? Who knows?

Where We Live & What We Can Do

Hello!

Arthur Yurvis here! How are you? I’m fine. Thanks for asking.

It’s a beautiful day here in Turbot! (Sports reference.) I do love my teams but anyway…

I’m here to tell you about where we live. Well, let me get this out of the way. The old houses in the woods, well, very few people live out there. This is where everyone lived before the marshmallow factory closed down. There are some old timers out there but they keep to themselves. Some times they tell stories but I never listen. I’m an accountant. One day, I’ll be an actuary. Turbot’s first. Until then…

We live in the Valhalla Estates on Odin Street right off of Yggdrasill Crest along with everyone else. Our trailer is E-5. We are on the perimeter now enjoying a view of the Bryant Woods. Old Hagar’s Swamp is about 1 mile away. It’s a beautiful place. E-4 is Mrs. Blake and her little son Mel (vert). They’re really nice. The son can yell a bit but he’s seven so you let him go. E-6 is Freddie C (He’s in Shipping & Receiving.) Good guy. Keeps himself to etc.

Five rows of 10 trailers. This is more than adequate space. We have a small screened in area out front and a small garden to the side. Sometimes ventilation is a little tough. The swamp can send a stink out if it gets too balmy and the neighbors can create their own smells on a hot night. Especially, if the septic need draining. But, it never gets overly bothersome.

I’d never lived in a trailer home before but after sixteen years here I can’t imagine ever being without. It’s too exciting. Everything is so parallel.

There are trailers of all sizes. Ours is a 36-footer with a separate queen sized bedroom area. Mr. Newt over at D-4 lives in a 52-foot number. It’s possibly too long. (More perpendicular than anything.) There’s a trailer in the center (C-4) that’s a back-of-the-truck kind of thing. It takes all kinds.

What do we do? Work, mainly, But, there’s always Ornette’s the local bar and restaurant. We like booze with the weekend and Ornette’s has plenty of it. (Don’t you worry. Tony, the guy who runs Ornette’s, will be by soon and tell you all about it.) I wish I was as verbose as my lovely wife. A general store, DVD rental place and the newspaper office. But, apart from that….This town’s not big but it’s great.

Really! Stay tuned for more great stuff!

The Sweet, Red Smell of Grey's Prepared Beef Plant


Hello! It’s me, Marlene!

Today we’re going to Grey’s Prepared Beef Plant! Our first step! (And what a step!) Turbot, who loves you!?

In a town made up of 143 people, about 100 off us work over there! It’s a half mile away from the trailers so many of use the trek to and from for a little exercise. (Trust me, some of us could use it. There’s more than one big gut and large fanny around here!)

The building where the plant is located has been around for a while. It was an auto plant way back in the day. “We’ve got the Model T!” During, WWII, they used it to make some kind of bombs. They added on all sorts of bits and did all kinds of top secret shenanigans inside. Then, after the war, it became a marshmallow factory. This building produced the tastiest mallows this world has ever known. Mr. Tasty’s Mallow-Riffic Yummies were genius. Cushiony, white and sweet, oh so sweet. This was the most prideful factory in the country. No one ever had a bad day. The marshmallows made sure of that. In the early 80’s, they moved to Guam and the place closed down. Most people moved to the hard hat factory in Ovid.

After a few years of inactivity, Mr. Grey opened it up again selling fantastic prepared beef. G Bless him! My husband and I moved here about 16 years ago. We needed the work and we’d heard about the plant and we owned a trailer. Match made in heaven.

I’m one of the Gift Package Packers. I work on T-5. We load up all the gift orders for the entire world. It’s a great job. I am the Assistant Supervisor, which means I get a salary.

My husband is an accountant. T-3. He’s very happy but one day he will achieve his dream of becoming an actuary. (Keep reaching, hon!) His supervisor’s name is Ron.

If we can get a picture of the plant on here (Arthur!), it looks like a small 2 story office building. That first floor is the main security area and the execs offices. The main security area is where all the employees must pass through at the start and end of each shift. If you have direct contact with the beef, they do full body searches. Just to make sure that you’re not sneaking off with anything. We have a very generous employee discount program so really… Shame on You.

The second floor is marketing and all of the sales staff. “They need windows. They need sunlight.” Mr. Grey always says. And, he’s right. I like sunlight too.

The bulk of the work is done beneath them. It was something to do with the arms factory. No one ever told us for certain. But, the building reaches 10 stories deep under Turbot. That’s where we are

T-1 Shipping and Receiving. They have a direct link to the surface. We have our own line of trucks that ship out the prepared beef and ship in stock. Those boys are a lot of fun. They joke, they yell, it’s great to see them. (Though, I only do when I take things up to them, which is rare.)

T-2 Office Supplies. All boxes and labels and pens. There are a few folks who supervise but this is one of the most silent floors.

T-3 Accounting. It’s pretty quiet here too but not for lack of people. They have lots of paper here.

T-4 through T-6 is filled with Packagers.

T-4 Rush Orders Next Day or Same Day! (People love their beef prepared.) Each packaging floor has their own supply of product. We also have a direct elevator that comes up from the Supply Floor. When there is an order, it goes to the computer. The right floor gets the order and they take it from present supply. If there is nada, we yell down to the Supply guys and they haul up everything we need.

So, T-4 does all the stuff that goes out Now! And, there’s a lot of it.

T-5 That’s me! And Sally & Jean & Joy & Kris & Linda & Lavinia, our supervisor. & Rod. We’re really great. We do the gift packaging like I said.

T-6 Corporate packaging. Any business that has a regular account with us. They do the HUGE orders but they don’t rush as much.

T-7 The Product Supply floor. (dried) This is where the entire prepared beef product waits to be shipped. Huge shelves filled with well-prepared beefery goodness/ Just the smell is enough make you think you’re in heaven seven floors underground.

T-8 Supply (frozen) There is an express elevator that goes (very fast) (Too Fast) from the S&R floor to here. Keeps the freezer full of meat. This is the quietest floor in the building. Lots of frozen beef and men in long coats moving slowly around.

T-9 Sick bay and the labs. If you’re sick, go see Dr. Sickler (oddly enough) and he’ll make you nice. The labs…Well, new product is tested there. I never go there.

T-10 The Marinaters Floor. This is where the preparing is done. (I’ve heard that they use this floor because it’s closest to the earth’s core.) We’re good friends with a Marinater, Pete Knowles. He’s going to write us an entry with more info on the spicing of the beef and the Marinating Men.

Well, there you are! If they let me take pictures of the inside, we’d have some here for you. Unfortunately, there will be no pictures because Mr. Grey won’t allow it. (It is his plant.) Too bad, though. I could try to stash a camera but it’s not worth it knowing I’m going to get a full body search.

So, that’s where we work. Arthur’ll be telling about where we live next. Feel free to write us about the places where you work. (Especially if it’s a hot air balloon! Yowza!)

Talk to you soon!

Welcome to the town of Turbot, U.S.A.!

Hello!

We’re Marlene and Arthur Yurvis (pronounced Jer-vis). You are now reading the very first entry in our town’s brand new blog!

This blog is all about our town! Turbot! A small, quiet town with one hell of a can-do All-American spirit! We don’t want to sound like a cliché but we’re a small town with a sizable heart (maybe you’ve heard that one?) A town that’s all about people working hard and making good. So many people and families have made us their home that we wanted you to spend some time discovering them. It’ll be fun.

We have a wonderful history that is exciting and epic and would make a great movie if anyone’s listening (Ha Ha!) We aren’t an old town although our location has a colorful history. There’s nothing we like more than a chilled glass of lemonade and watching the sun sink beyond the trees and trailers.*

Our population is 143 but we have the hobbies, interests and stories of 334. Entrepreneurs, artists, writers, marinaters, civic leaders. We have a newspaper (The Turbot Tribune) that comes out three times a week. Every year the Prepared Beef Plant sponsors a carnival, a bake sale (Cakewalk included!), a Christmas Pageant and, well, whatever Mr. Grey wants to sponsor. We all go. Why not? We all work there.

You may be saying: Why does your small town warrant my time? I’m a busy person. What about you people makes for good reading? Three words for you… a-nude-man. How’s that squeeze you, Roderick? (There’s plenty more where that came from.) Well, you just keep reading…Give us a little bit of that valuable time a few times a week and you’ll see…

We’re great!

(Oh, we’ll have photos & pictures on this thing as soon as Arthur can figure out how to work it.) (Honey!) (Sorry.)

Next time: we’ll start you on a tour of Turbot at the very heart of activity!

Grey’s Prepared Beef Plant! Let’s smell the smells.