Unfairly Appropriated
Yes.
The “Ain’t I A Woman” thing actually happened.
There wasn’t a husband in j’orts accompanying her on guitar, though.
The lady’s performance was a capella.
Which is maybe one of those cases of “truth is far more horrifying than fiction can convey.”
She, the lady, was wearing action sandals, though.
But it wasn’t at a farmer’s market, either.
That would’ve been more than we could stand.
No.
DQ country, but not red burrito country.
The “Road Trip With My Love Child: Pit Stop at a Texas Dairy Queen” thing didn’t happen.
Not exactly.
The inspiration for the piece struck at a Hardee’s in Billings, Montana.
My mother and I were bemoaning the lack of red burritos at Hardee’s restaurants west of the Rockies.
Then we started joking about how maybe there were only red burritos in red states.
But then we couldn’t remember if red states were republican or democrat.
I don’t remember how I went from there to Texas Toast in Texas. Like wouldn’t they just call it “toast”?
There was also something about chicken fried chicken, but it didn’t end up being funny.
No.
There is not a single instance of legitimate interview on our site. “The Murky Fringe Interviews Your Nap” and “The Murky Fringe Interviews Oscar Claude Monet” perhaps should have indicated that these are in jest.
Yes. We did do a semi-legitimate interview with Jaspar Johns in the mens restroom of a Billings, Montana Hardee’s.
It was a different one from the one where I had my Texas Toast epiphany while eating with my mom. I had eaten before and have eaten since with my mom at the Billings Montana Hardee’s where I semi-legitimately interviewed Jaspar Johns in the mens restroom, but she was having surgery that day.
The interview with Jaspar Johns was a total disaster. Which is why we’ve never done another one.
This would be a case of “fiction being less likely than truth to end you up in a Billings Montana jail cell on indecency and assault charges.”
Ignatius in better, less partially crippled, times
Yes.
While we here at the Fringe write about animals a lot: horses and koalas and penguins and gorillas and pitbulls, et al., and while none of the animals we write about are injured or involved in the writing of the pieces, a few animals have been hurt in the making of this website.
Ignatius, the African pygmy hedgehog who lives in our office, got stepped on once while we were working.
And Cassie once left her dog in the car to run up for a minute and check on something in the office, but then sat down and started checking our Facebook stats, then poured herself a glass of wine, and then another, and her dog got dehydrated and had to get an IV.*
*Editor’s Note: We live in fucking Portland. Who thought a dog could get dehydrated in a car in Portland? Also, Stephanie Wemmers is a bitch.
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Ah, memories of requesting an English muffin in London and being pointed to the American muffin on the menu