From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #101225 - Lesser Barons

Since search engines tend to bring folks here looking for other items sharing my title, so I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to post links to a few others that share my title... if not my infamy.

Michael Wittmann, German tank commander during World War 2.

Robert Munro, 18th Baron of Foulis in Scotland.

18th Aviation Brigade of the United States Army. (inactive)

The Birmingham Black Barons, professional Negro League baseball team from 1920 to 1960.

Brabus E V12 Black Baron, modified 2010 E-Class Mercedes Benz.

Red Army March - White Army, Black Baron performed by the Red Army Choir.

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #100529 - "Service... what's that?"

This will be a short post since I'm still having trouble believing it myself.

Just a bit of setup before the payoff...

The lab assistant and myself ventured forth to a local eatery called "McCobb's" that specializes in various sorts of deep-fried comestibles and a uniquely New Jersey invention called a Texas Wiener, of which the lab assistant wanted to get herself a couple of with onion rings and for myself I just wanted some fish & chips.

Upon arriving at the establishment we perused the menu to make sure our original choices were what we wanted before making our way to the counter to place the order where this exchange took place...

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #100313 - Conundrum

On the same trip that led me to those most interesting wrenches I mentioned in a previous missive I also discovered a certain item that, while I didn't care to purchase it, intrigued me as to it's use and purpose...

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #091030 - The Klunk Saga.

In the not too distant past I spent a six month period visiting with a friend that lived in a small town in Indiana.

Now while the nature and purpose of this visit is really no one's business but my own there were a handful of episodes well worth sharing with the world at large.

Among these is one I like to refer to as "The Klunk Saga".

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #090908 - The P.C. Police have arrived.

In my travels I've seen many a strange thing, attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhauser gate... no, wait, I've done that gag before...

The point still stands, however.

I've seen a myriad of strange, wondrous, and, sometimes, horrifying things during the length of my interminable existence and, while most are noteworthy, some are truly beyond the ken of mortal man.

Case in point, it would now appear that a local constabulary is taking lessons in manners and decorum.

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #090419 - Highway Hijinks

On a recent excursion for items varied and sundry, it was required that I make use of one of the several interstate highways in the area, a task I'm not entirely fond of on a good day... and it's been rather a long time since I had a good day.

It was during this particular excursion that I saw a sight that, once again, made me wish I had a camera small enough to keep with me at all times...

I came up on a family minivan appropriately loaded with various younglings and other animals some keep about their domiciles, which would explain the fact the driver was carrying a boxed item atop the roof of their vehicle, since it obviously wouldn't fit inside it with all the wildlife taking up room.

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #080714 - The Crosswalk to Nowhere.

In my travels I've seen many a strange thing, attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhauser gate... no, wait, that's not right... either way you get the idea, wander about long enough and you're likely to meet yourself coming the other way... and let me tell you, that's awkward in ways too manifold to list.

This time around though I'd like to call to your attention a singular item of either bureaucratic superfluousness or just outright stupidity of biblical proportions.

When I'm taking my temerarious lab assistant and minion Ferrette to her day job I have a choice of two courses, one involves interstate highway driving at insane speeds in a van with a transmission that can be best described as "iffy", and the other course, which I prefer, that consists of winding roads with a bit more sedate and sane speed limit that's also a well marked bike route so I can at least watch other folks enjoy themselves while I'm stuck in my green metal box.

From the files of the Black Baron: Casefile #080525 - North Jersey Rednecks

A sighting on a recent outing with my primary lab assistant and minion, Ferrette, brought to mind a subject of much conjecture and debate in years past, the North Jersey Redneck.

Now I'm not talking about your average Jeff Foxworty fan or someone that thinks Larry the Cable Guy is the pinnacle of humor... I'm talking about the ones that drive around pick-ups with the rebel flag decals on them that cover the entire back window and have "The South Will Rise Again" bumper stickers or fly rebel flags from their houses when they've never been further south than Hoboken.

This past sunday my temerarious lab assistant Ferrette and myself were taking an extended excursion to enjoy the weather before the onslaught of the Memorial Day festivities that would take up precious space on our roads.

Along the way we were passed by a large pick-up truck of fairly recent vintage raised to ridiculous heights and blessed with a set of tires usually reserved for the more obscure species of farm equipment along with an exhaust system that would be more at home on the average semi-truck, leaving behind the stink of diesel, an afterimage of the silhouette of a chromed naked female, the aforementioned rebel flag, and a slight ringing in the ears.

After a few more miles we came upon the home that could have only belonged to the driver of this pick-up, we deduced this from the fact that the truck was parked in the driveway along with an Expedition and a Hummer (can you sense the trend here?).

Now here is where the North Jersey Redneck really shines, along with the usual Memorial Day fare, such as red, white & blue bunting and an extensive picnic arrangement, he had also festooned his garage with, to the left of the garage door a very large American flag, on the garage door itself an equally large P.O.W. banner, and to the right of the garage door a rebel flag larger than either of the other two flags.

One thing I've neglected to mention was that the name on the mailbox was Steinmetz... not what one usually associates with the rebel flag.

I've seen this and similar sights most of my life and after all this time I still can't fathom why someone from New Jersey would feel the need to try and make everyone think they're from south of the mason-dixon line.

Now I know there's a troop of civil war re-enactors up this way, they're going to be at the Long Pond Iron Works in a few days, but I don't think that justifies dolling up a pick-up truck in redneck drag and playing like you're L'il Abner.