Regionalism and Assholes
(a familiar story . . .)
Bolinas Lagoon this morning - land worth saving
I move around a lot and through the years have developed a sort of practice you could call… ‘the quick draw method of developing ersatz familiarity’. Actually, don’t call it that.
My routine can be accomplished in a day or two in a small town, usually faster in a big city. Cities are more what Julian Assange might call, transparent. Part of this includes going to the nearest grocery store and picking up a random selection of the free press. Free as respects pocket change – not the first amendment.
You can tell (at least I can tell) a lot about a community by scanning the giveaway press offerings. The reasons I believe this are nuanced and not interesting – take it on faith?
The first thing I noted down at the Stinson Beach Market on the southwest coast of Marin County is… the giveaway press is not all free. Several of the small tabloids weighing down the counter were, the proprietor Sergio informed me, priced on the masthead. I bought $6.10 worth with a coffee and Sergio seemed a lot friendlier when I got to talking to him. You can also get your first blush of local lore from the guy who sells you the papers.
(Sergio, oddly, reminded me of my sainted father. My father was not a Hispanic Californian with a wry sense of humor. However, like my father, Sergio had set up a small market in a coastal community of 1,000 permanent – and a gazillion visiting – residents and was getting $7.00 a package for Oreos)
The first story I read in the first paper on the stack (the West Marin Citizen – Pt. Reyes Station, CA, publisher/editor: Mr. Joel Hack -Joel Hack?) was not your garden variety small town lead.
Some asshole Texan (with the acutely unfortunate name of Tobin Whamond) had been attempting for the last four years to remove a large parcel of land from a preservation trust and plant cabbages on it. Seems we Texans are destined to frequently oblige the archetype liberal regions always seem to be tarring us with.
Why is that, sugar?
I’m not all that sure it was cabbages, but mention was made of ‘drilling wells’ and I’m assuming old Tobin was trying to produce farming water and not hydrocarbons. I know Texans can be assholes, but the rich ones are generally not that stupid.
There are notable exceptions to that rule.
Bush.
Joel Hack, editor? Tobin Whamond, Texan? Bush! (Bush?) This was starting to feel like a pot-boiler.
I considered running Mr. Whamond to ground to find out what his deal was, maybe see if I knew anyone who knew him. I was getting interested in the story the same way I am always fascinated by the obligatory Asshole Texan piece the New York Times runs, without fail, at least once a month.
But then, seemingly as quickly as it had begun, the story ended with Tobin Whamond utterly vanquished.
Mr. Whamond’s next door neighbors Joel Coen and Francis McDormand wrote him a check - though they seemed to have waited four years. Was Coen observing Tobin’s machinations to serve his own machinations related some bizarre story idea?
No less strange things (both as regards rich Texans and even richer Showfolk) have, in fact occurred. But no matter… I wanted some facts.
It didn’t seem that West Marin Citizen reporter Andrea Blum was able to get anything out of Coen or McDormand past the eloquent press release describing the sale in oblique terms. A nearby neighbor chatted easily enough and Andrea wrapped the story with his thought that it was “[a] wonderful day in the neighborhood…Everybody is as happy as could be.”
The neighbor may not realize that even Mr. Whamond is likely happy as a clam. Defeat means nothing to The Asshole Texan if accompanied by a large wad of cash money - this dimension of the archetype, I can vouch for.
Why do you think they call them assholes anyway?
I’ve met and forgotten more assholes in Texas than anyone in Marin County ever has. Being (factually) a Texan and (arguably) an asshole myself, I can nonetheless hold two ideas in my head at the same time.
I get the fact that Tobin wanted to do something with his land. I get the fact that Joel and Francis didn’t want someone setting up a 45 acre broccoli operation next door to their $35 million Marin County coastal paradise.
I also get the fact that the asshole with the most money … wins. That is to say, the wealth of a region generally holds sway regarding what transpires in that region.
As I understand it, this is why they have refineries on the coast of Texas and land preservation trusts and movie studios on the coast of California. Although, I am told there are a few cabbages further inland. Now that I think of it, there’s a movie studio in Dallas as well. But I think it’s mostly Doritos commercials that they do there.
What really worries me is that Rupert Murdoch sells a lot of papers and media in both places – and everywhere in between. Clearly enough; that’s another blog.
* * *
I think I’ll enjoy my winter in California. Maybe I’ll bump into Joel and Francis down at the Market and ask them how much they had to pay to make the asshole Texan go away. “Much more than we would have to pay to make you go away.” they might say, accurately sizing me up as only a wannabe.
Mark W. Lee, CPA
-Stinson Beach
licensed in Texas, New York & (soon) California – thus potentially serving over 90% of all rich assholes in the united states…