Alabamarama

Season's Greetings from Alabama

Thousands of tourists from New England flock to Alabama this time of the year to observe the height of what is locally known as "Douchebag Time"

It has nothing to do with what we call the season of celebrations, be it Hanukah, Christmas or Thanksgiving and New Year's. No, the curious sight during the months of November to February - ending with the Muddy Bath day on a February Tuesday (the day before they worship on Rash Wednesday) - has more practical connotations rather than ceremonial ones.

Tens of thousands of local wenches like CarrCarter, SugapeeFannypie, Fook-a-LameDuck, dressed in pajamas and accompanied by their 10-15 offspring conceived by 10-14 fathers (relatives of various degrees), huddle at curb sides of thruways to be sprayed by the splash and gush from passing trucks and vans. Approaching vehicles are greeted by thunderous noise from the children beating on pots and pans, alerting the hags in a huddle to lean forward into the puddles and receive their showering.

Nine months of crusty build-up makes CarrCarter look quite cuddly

For 9 months they had to wait to cleanse body and hair from the dust and grease accumulated over time. Except for brief and infrequent pilgrimages to the River (yes, the muddy muddy river Mississippi), these ditching heifers left the veneer of sweat, blood, tears, dust and bird droppings untouched to build a protective shield against chopper-sized insects. That's why Malaria is a rare occurrence in the region, with typhoid, bloody diarrhea and metastatic abscesses being the most widely spread diseases afflicting local residents. And just as the Armadillo-like skin begins to crack, nature in its mercy sends the torrents to the region.

For some the quest for cleansing comes at a price: LameDucks last weekend

Tour buses filled with smartly dresses New England travellers pass too slowly the anxious PJ-ed hags to create any kind of shower. The tourists eagerly press their faces and cameras against the windows to get a good look and photo of wenches who lift angrily their PJ tops to flash udders hanging down to their knees. State troopers, sympathetic to the wenches that they have shagged during previous traffic stops, routinely bang their nightsticks against the buses as a command to move on and let trucks pass through the puddles at full speed.

Eating their own, nothing goes to waste: LameDucks' last hooray at CarrCarter's

This report was compiled by correspondents from
our Houston and New Orleans bureaus