And Here We Have Idaho…Falls

By Clarence Worly, Unfiltered 8-17-10

I’m what you would call a born and raised local-yokel. Since many of us locals don't have a whole lot to beat our chests about when it comes to monetary gain or land ownership or careers, bragging rights about how long your family has been in Idaho Falls is of the utmost importance to the many circles of one-uppers sitting around playing Texas Hold 'em and swilling Bush Light every weekend.

I’ve spent 35 of my 50 years based in South East Idaho and most of those 35 years right here in beautiful Idaho Falls. My Dad grew up here, my Grandad moved here from Pocatello in 1935, and my Great Grandad moved to Pocatello with his three wives from Franklin in 1908. I could go back many more generations, but that would reveal more about my Mormon pedigree than I am comfortable sharing, and worse yet, possibly uncover some family lineage that once and for all proves one of my ex-wives is somehow related to me by blood through a plural marriage.

Like other local folk in the valley, that's some genealogy I simply don't want to know about.

Now I don’t have any hard facts on whether or not the valley is lousy with inbred dullards, to my knowledge no one does, but I would argue that the Eastern Idaho State Fair provides an excellent variety of specimens for an anthropological case study on the long-term health and intelligence effects of cousins...who marry cousins...who marry cousins.

During the 15 years I was away from my beloved Snake River Plain, whenever some snooty city-slicker would ask me where I was from, I always replied with an air of surly swagger, “Idaho Falls, Idaho,” with an implied “Bitch” at the end of that statement.

For me, living in Idaho Falls is something to be proud of. It feels as comfortable as my thread-bare boxers that have been cycling in and out of my dresser drawers since INXS had their last number one single. The very same boxers that Mrs. Alabama Worly keeps threatening to have a HAZMAT team dispose of.

I've lived in other SRP towns; I was in Pocatello for several years. Good people in Poky, met one of my wives down there. Due to the university, the one thing they have over I.F. is a happening and relevant live music scene. But Pocatello also has a noisy stinking mass of railroad tracks running through the middle of town that make the stockyards in Idaho Falls smell like a fresh urinal mint by comparison.

I lived in Rigby for a short time. It turns out my 5th cousin, Philo T. Farnsworth, the inventor of the Cathode Ray Tube, used to live there too. He has his own museum smack dab in the middle of town.

Based on my experience, the only things to do in Rigby are drink and visit the museum. I’m pretty sure the museum is open M-F from 10 to 5, but it’s strictly BYOB, I learned that the hard way one afternoon when I got the stink-eye from the curator because I asked for a Crown neat with a Bud chaser.

Good people in Rigby, met another one of my wives up there, but as the old saying goes, there’s no place like home. And I’m happy to say Idaho Falls has been and always will be my home.

Over the years I've developed a keen fondness for my Idaho Falls brethren. Although we have many differing views on life and the philosophies one should adopt to live it, we also have many things in common:

We love to camp.

I remember as a kid, Island Park was “the” place to beat the summer heat. Big Springs, Riverside, Ponds Lodge, Macs Inn, Henry’s, IP Reservoir, McCrea’s Bridge…I loved all of those spots, and in the 60’s, they were fantastic places to recreate. But then came the Utahans. We locals were forced to find new places to camp since no self respecting resident of Idaho Falls (or any town in Idaho for that matter) would camp next to some carrot-snapping Utard…ever.

So we were driven Northwest to Salmon, West to Mackey, and East to Palisades to avoid the locust-like infestation from the south; hell bent on driving up the real estate prices, catching all our fish with marshmallows, and polluting every decent camping spot between Ashton and Yellowstone with used disposable diapers, 3.2% beer cans, and empty boxes of lime Jell-O.

The horror…the horror…Island Park, you deserved so much better.

We love the 4th of July.

This is the only summer weekend that we take a break from camping. We fire up the grills, drink a few long necks or Mountain Dews (depending on age and religious affiliation), and watch things explode in mid-air.

When I left Idaho Falls in 1980 we called the fireworks display “The Independence Day Celebration” but when I returned some slack-jawed rube had apparently sold our favorite summertime holiday to an out of town multilevel marketing outfit.

I went down to the river in ‘98 and watched in shocked awe the grotesque spectacle nationally known as the “Melaleuca Freedom Celebration.” I have never returned.

Just up the highway a few miles, in Menan, there is a fantastic fireworks display on the very same evening still called “The Independence Day Celebration” that’s just as genuine as the fireworks I used to go see as a kid.

An added bonus to driving a few miles north; after the show is over, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing the fireworks you watched were purchased by the city of Menan through anonymous donations made by honest, hard-working, local farming families and you paid homage to the birth of our great nation in the spirit it was supposed to be celebrated, as opposed to applauding the financial success of a highly profitable pyramid enterprise more concerned with self-promotion than pride in our country.

We love box stores.

One would be hard pressed to find a community anywhere in these United States that sports two Super Wal-Mart’s with a population of only 50,000. Oh sure, we have Lowell’s, Target, Home Depot, Kohl’s, Shopko, and the like, but we LOVE Wal-Mart.

The whole valley has a “thing” for the Box in Blue, but Idaho Falls is borderline John Hinckley Jr. / Jodi Foster in our relationship with this chain. We commit our murders there, perform our drive-by shootings there, hell-we even deliver our babies there.

It’s somewhat understandable; we I.F.ers have always been thrifty with a buck, so regardless of the cost to the U.S. and local economy, we are bound and determined to save $1.27 on those crappy Chinese built widgets. Who cares if we put another local business in bankruptcy? Man up and sell your hand-crafted doodads cheaper we say!

We have an opinion on everything.

Be it gay marriage, abortion, weather, movies, religion, soup, gun control, camping, politics, education, restaurants…you name it. If can be argued, we’ll argue.

Facts, figures, charts and graphs? Mehhh! These things meaningless to most of us. It doesn’t matter if you went to some fancy college and got some fancy degree, we KNOW what is right and wrong and black and white. Gray only exists in the color of our two-pant missionary suits and in far off places like New York City or France.

In Idaho Falls, we have our opinions as finely tuned as a Marine sniper rifle. Our opinions do not waiver and they are beyond reproach. We are right, and you sir, are WRONG!

Many long winter months are passed expressing our opinions by mentally masturbating all over the internet; insuring other internet users know exactly where we are from, what we think, what we stand for, and how they should be living their lives.

Why do feel the need to impose our beliefs and values on those who don’t think as we do?

Well that’s simple. Because we’re from Idaho Falls, Idaho…Bitch.

[Full stories along with live footage of Bigfoot always available at www.clarenceworly.com]

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