While waiting for that great epilogue of white trash culture, "My Name is Earl, Angry Joyce was catching an episode of "The Antique Roadshow." Usually when she is watching this program, I find something to do such as read the newspaper, surf the 'net, pick lint from my bellybutton or some other manly pursuit. On occasion something happens on this show that piques my curiousity. There are two things that can and sometimes do play out that amuse me.
One scene is the poor slob/slobette that buys something in a flea market or garage sale for less than five bucks or inherits something from poor old Aunt Martha and it ends up being worth a fortune. As he or she is standing there in a frayed out concert tee, the dapper metrasexual appraiser asks them how much they payed for some painting that they had purchased to hang in their bathroom. They tell him that the sticker on the item was a buck fifty but they were able to haggle it down to fifty-seven cents. Whereupon he tells them that if it was in his gallery he would ask no less than one hundred thousand dollars. This is where Angry Joyce screams at the screen, "Tell him to write you a goddamn check just once will someone ask for a damned check." I feel that it is a common thing to have the belief that no matter how remote the possibility, anyone can stumble onto a pot of gold or make a silk purse from a sow's ear.
The second scene actually cracks me up. It is when some uppity bitch/ass gets his or her's comeuppance by bragging on their object de art and it ends up being a completely worthless pile of junk. They are standing there dressed to the nines while a knowledgeable looking appraiser in granny glasses sunk two inches down his nose describes some piece of furniture by a well-known 18th century carpenter. He then asks them how much they paid for the item and they tell him that knowing that it was a priceless piece of Americana they got it for a steal at fifteen thousand dollars. Whereupon he tells them that they have been hosed and possess only a cheap knockoff that they possibly could pawn for twenty bucks.
I know that it may seem wrong to laugh at the misfortune of others but it is human nature to root for the underdog and mankind by it's very nature is envious. Who am I to screw with human nature?
As for the title of this post it refers to one of Angry Joyce's aunts, who pronounces antiques this way. It took my mother-in-law and Angry Joyce a while to comprehend just what she was talking about when she described shopping at an Auntie Q store. Relatives are good for a laugh even though it is scary knowing that except for the grace of god or some strange twist of fate, it could have been you instead of them that received the deep redneck gene markers. We all have relatives like this whether we want to admit it or not.