Bornacatholic: Monkey Jarvis

The Bride bought this for BAC; isn't it cool? It takes its name from Monkey Jarvis, a Taxi driver who used to operate his lil' business in Springfield, Vermont.
http://bornacatholic.blogspot.com/2014/03/this-is-what-is-wrong-with-america-3.html

Bornacatholic Friday, March 14, 2014 This is what is wrong with America (3) The SSCS (Society of Saint Christopher Standing) was between sessions of its weekly Synod on Silliness in America (SOS, America) when Bornacatholic (SSCS Founder) snapped this photo of his faithful servant, Jarvis, * bearing a nice glass of cabernet. After this brief break, BAC delivered his Keynote Address on this most nettlesome of novelties: Wouldn't you just love to get your hands on the person (prolly a man) who first did this in America and infected observers with a weird desire to imitate him and so that now poor patient BAC has to go to stores and see all manner of fat-asses walking BESIDE their carts and taking-up more aisle space than is necessary? If you did get your hands on that man, would you merely hector him about his idiocy - Where is the handle on this cart, Mister; is it on the side or is it at the back of the cart ? or would you just denounce him for being an irksome dope whose bad example has unnecessarily complicated shopping? Me too. * The Bride bought this for BAC; isn't it cool? It takes its name from Monkey Jarvis, a Taxi driver who used to operate his lil' business in Springfield, Vermont. All of us young youngsters living in that machine-tool town (our claim to fame was that we were putatively on Hitler's top 50 places to bomb **) were told by our parents that the taxi driver, normally dozing in his car parked in front of The Ellis Theater (Theatre?), was, named, Monkey; O, that guy sleeping in the car? That's Monkey Jarvis). And that is just the way life is in small town America; strange and cruel nicknames for those weighed down by low wages, struggling to keep afloat, in the deep end of the Labor Pool. Did he look simian? Yeah, he did. Still... ** No. I am not kidding. That was a source of pride. Other Vermont towns had different bragging rights; We have the best snow skiing in America or, Our Mayor was oncet a Golden Gloves Champion or, One of our Town Fathers invented the Memory Drum, or, Last year, my friend, Davis, shot an albino deer; but not those of us living in Springfield; we were PROUD that Hitler wanted to bomb us. How about you, dear reader? Were you raised in a town that some maniacal mass murderer desired to bomb and, if not, does that make you feel your place-of-birth was unappreciated or undervalued by maniacal mass murderers? Me too. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ To be sure you are getting a sufficient amount of irony in your intellectual diet, just label your own self a traditionalist and then claim you are just like everybody else while denying you are a haughty elitist.