Hate Will Make You Strong, North Carolina
This week, a collection of hatin'. Contractors! The Washington Capitals! Wilmington! Charlotte! ESPECIALLY you, Charlotte.
Charlotte’s Got A Lot … OF HATERS
Before we get to the hatin’, here’s something nice. Last week my friend Mike Graff set off on a quest to get the answer to an easy question: What is Charlotte, anyway?
It’s an unanswerable prompt, because the city really never is. The city has a pulse. And the pulse is different for different people.
In one beat, Charlotte can bring you to tears.
The next can make you cringe.
The next can make you laugh. Or scream.
The next can challenge you to think about your role in our 250-year-old story.
The more you notice, the more this city is happy to flip your “What is Charlotte?” question back on you: “Who are you? And how are you showing up?”
That’s an excerpt from Mike’s debut piece for The Charlotte Optimist, his new project that aims to get at the heart of North Carolina’s biggest city through deep, weekly stories. I’ll just point out that Mike is one of the best editors I’ve ever worked with and one hell of a writer. He’s thoughtful and deliberate and low-key funny (the lede to this week’s story about Mega-Important Charlotte Guy Johnny Harris picking a place to sit made me chuckle).
Mike’s story helped get me up to speed on a city that I left a decade ago. Last year, I crossed an important personal threshold as a North Carolina citizen: I’ve officially lived outside of Charlotte longer than I ever lived inside that city. From the outside, I can tell you that Charlotte really is its own island, even without a man-made moat encircling uptown. Hence, I’ve made the same joke for years: I moved to Charlotte in 2005, but I didn’t really move to North Carolina until I left town.
I’ve been gone since 2015. Every time I come back to Charlotte, it feels more foreign to me. The house I lived in has been bought and sold three times! My favorite low-key neighborhoods are full of multi-story apartment buildings! They moved Amelie’s! I no longer really make Charlotte recommendations for people anymore, since a lot of the places I enjoyed are now named on this “RIP Old Charlotte” T-Shirt that Queen City Nerve is selling.
I used to have some really deep thoughts about Charlotte, though. Mike and I are both Our State magazine alums, which means we’re doomed to be journalists who land on the optimistic side of cynical. Back when he was an editor there, he commissioned me to write an E.B. White-inspired essay about Charlotte. The story, which ran in 2012, comes down to this point, I think:
Charlotte is a teenager about to take her next step in life, where she’s going to have to choose what she wants to be when she grows up. Remember that feeling you had when you finished high school? You could do anything. You could go anywhere. You could be whoever you wanted to be. You were pure potential. But every decision you made at that point in your life shaped who you would become. These decisions would define your identity, whether you liked it or not. And right now, at this moment, at this point in history, that is Charlotte. We’re on the verge of something.
That story came out 13 years ago! What happened? Charlotte grew up. I think it’s still a deeply insecure place (standby for the latest exhibit of that), but I also think it’s still—on tilt—a good place. As in, it’s a place where all sorts of things are still possible. Back in 2012, I made this statement (unintentionally in a Jon Bois voice): “You know what Charlotte is? Charlotte is you.” That doesn’t make it an overtly interesting place. It certainly has its share of big problems, like expensive housing and a lack of upward mobility. But it’s a place built by people who show up from somewhere else. People who decide to nudge or shove things in the direction that they feel is best, a neighborhood or a former strip club at a time. It’s a place where a million small stories explain some piece of a bigger picture. You can complain that Charlotte has no soul, but that’s just because it no longer has an overarching singular identity. Not even banking! There is no Charlotte monoculture, but then again, there is no American monoculture either, so I don’t know what you all expect.
And yes, people hate on Charlotte. Here’s what I’d say from my outsider’s perch: It’s a sign of progress. When I moved to town 20 years ago, people didn’t seem to rip on the city as a whole. Folks told me that I ought to move there because they heard it was nice. And it was! It still is! But since I first showed up, more than 300,000 people have moved to Charlotte. It’s a bigger city. Routines have changed. Prices went up. Everyone’s favorite places closed. There are more people out there to disagree with. Back in 2005, city leaders thought they could control the narrative. That’s no longer possible. People are going to hate on Charlotte. They’re gonna insult it. They’re gonna come at it with outdated cliches. Some of that criticism is gonna cut deep. That doesn’t mean Charlotteans should tune it all out—there’s some valid signal in an ocean of noise. But if the hatin’ really mattered, the population would go down. It continues to go up.
So go ahead. Point out that Panthers fans are outnumbered in their own stadium when the Cowboys come to town. Laugh about the fact that nobody’s ever been able to find the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence. Call the silvery water-spitting head in an office park weird. Complain about brunch. Bitch about a highway exit that’s dumb enough to get its own video game. Congratulations, Charlotte. You’re important enough to be a target. That’s how you know you’re world-class.
Charlotte, I Love You, But Stop Falling For This!
The PGA Championship is back at Quail Hollow Club this week, and so many people are just thrilled to drink $18.50 Wicked Weed tallboys and show off the best things that Charlotte has to off—OH GOD YOU ALL TOOK THE BAIT:
Charlotte! You fall for this every time! First you got mad when our pal Nick Andersen’s friend called you “The Chili’s of cities.” Last year, you took extreme umbrage to the friend of a 90-something New York Post columnist who also didn’t like Charlotte. Now, you’re mad at this dude, who is pushing your emotional buttons like a mad scientist working a large blinking machine in a 1960s B-movie.
This clip comes from a golf podcast produced by the guys at No Laying Up, one of whom is coming to town for the golf tournament. In it, Todd Schuster (or TC as he’s known) calls Charlotte “Diet Atlanta,” and goes on to say that “I don’t think there’s a good non-chain restaurant here.” (Lucky for him, Charlotte has five Chili’s locations. Gotta catch ‘em all!)
I mean, fine. It’s one guy on one podcast. And yet, here’s a response from the Charlotte Observer:
The point being, Schuster, it is we who are putting you on notice. We have food. We love food. Our fine Queen City is booming with food. We are proud of our restaurants, even as we ourselves sometimes criticize them, wanting only for them to be even better than they were the day before. We live here, and we love here.
Here’s a summary of that response:
Charlotte. I’m speaking directly to you now. I am looking into your eyes. Nay, into your very soul. Listen to me when I tell you: Don’t do stuff like this. Don’t let your reply be “We have food. We love food.” Don’t reply with a list of Charlotte restaurants that are actually not bad but instead somewhat good! Don’t feel tempted to make a video! Don’t reply at all! LET IT GO. Not everything is deserving of an open letter. Take it from me, a guy who once wrote a long and extremely cringy multi-page note to his first college girlfriend right after she broke up with him. I didn’t get her back! (Also, with a quarter-century of hindsight, I’m very glad that my note didn’t work, but I guess that’s proof that I’ve long been a writer who keeps blowing past his assigned word count).
There is another way. This week, former PGA Tour golfer Hunter Mahan dragged the Quail Hollow Club itself, saying it lacked a soul. Only the aforementioned Johnny Harris, the club’s president, came up with the right initial response when a reporter asked him about Mahan: “Tell me who that is.”
No Cap
Friend of the Rabbit Hole Hayes Permar runs the terrific Rialto Theater in Raleigh’s Five Points neighborhood. He’s also good at hatin’ on the Washington Capitals:
At this moment, the Carolina Hurricanes are up 3-1 in their second round playoff series with the Caps. Tom Wilson is a good, very annoying player for Washington. He’s the kind of guy you love if he’s on your team. Otherwise, he’s the world’s most talented pest. Here he is fake crying after a fight with the Montreal Canadiens a few weeks ago. And here he is trying to mock the Canes Monday night by aiming a storm surge at their bench after Game 4. Tom. If you come for the king of NHL Twitter, you best not miss.
Hayes is a respectable businessman now, but he still has the heart of a sports-radio-trained shitposter. He did what he intended to do, which is make to fans of the home team happy while pissing off people who root for their opponent. Say, that’s sort of what Tom Wilson does!
Hayes has done this before. Let’s go back a few months to when superstar Mikko Rantanen was traded to the Canes. Rantanen didn’t want to be in Raleigh, played terribly, and basically forced the team to trade him away to Dallas at the deadline. That inspired this:
Of course, this most recent episode could be a big misunderstanding. Maybe the Rialto is merely banning the guy who played Biff in “Back to the Future.” That Tom Wilson seems like a nice guy. BUT ALL TOM WILSONS KNOW WHAT THEY DID.
One last thing: In the time between when I started writing this until now, the sign changed again:
Obviously This Man Didn’t Employ The Five Quesadilla Cook Out Hack
Keith Lee is a former MMA fighter who’s now a TikTok food reviewer with millions of followers. He’s swinging through North Carolina this week and yes, he went to Cook Out. Did he like it? WELP:
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There are ups and downs, which is sort of par for the course at Cook Out. He enjoyed the burger and hush puppies. Not so much the corn dog and Cheerwine.
If I were a good journalist, I’d ask Cook Out for a response here, but they would never, ever get back to me.
Wilmington: Cover songs, tiki boat, battleship
There’s a comedian from Pittsburgh who goes by Saxboy, and when he’s out on tour, he’ll shoot a video, write a song, and then have AI create a catchy tune. Here’s his take on Wilmington, dammit:
Look, I’m generally not a fan of AI creating this sort of stuff, so my initial response was to hate on this. This isn’t fair to legitimate musicians! It took hard work and genuine human creativity to make classic North Carolina bangers like “Jimmy Smith Park,” “It’s Carrboro,” and “Let’s Go Canes!” And yet, BEHOLD THE POWER OF MELODY. The very human writing behind the AI-generated music and singing is genuinely funny and biting. Plus, this guy looks sort of happy to explore Wilmington. He even bought a One Tree Hill basketball jersey! Good for him! Hence, I feel like I have to give this a pass, and I apologize to those of you who will have “Wilmington, NC! Brunch fueled service economy!” in your heads for the rest of the month.
The Guy From Twisted Sister Now Lives Three Miles From My House And Is Mad About His Contractor
Let me show you the joys of the reporting process. I live in Oak Ridge, outside of Greensboro. Two years ago, people around here said they’d started seeing Dee Snider, best known as the frontman of 80s hair band Twisted Sister, hanging around town. It was a rumor with intriguing clues. In 2023, Snider bought a Hummer from a local dealership. Then people started sending me pictures of a skinny, blonde, sunglassed, ponytailed man in line at the Oak Ridge Starbucks (we have one now!). They heard he was moving into an unfinished mansion at the edge of town. A local TV station ran a story about how people thought he lived in Oak Ridge, but never actually talked to Snider himself. People asked me to look into it.
So I did. I emailed Snider’s reps, who told me he was unavailable for an interview. I sent him a note on Twitter. Nothing. I started working remotely from Starbucks, hoping to spot him if he ever came in. He never did. I would occasionally drive past the house in question, but it didn’t look like anyone was living there. I never wrote a story. I just didn’t have complete confirmation.
And then last week, Snider just came out and confirmed it:
“You all have been stalking me like a wild animal!” he told the folks at WFMY-TV.
He didn’t say what led him to Oak Ridge specifically, only that the town was great, and that he thought North Carolina was a welcoming place, especially for filmmakers. He wants to start a production company here, and the big ol’ mansion he bought will be a compound for his family. (He was living in Winston-Salem while it was being built.) You won’t see him out at bars. “You'll see me at Starbucks,” he said. I KNEW IT.
But! The theme of this newsletter is hatin’, and during the WFMY interview, Snider decided to spend the better part of a minute going off on his former builder. “My contractor went completely south, started ripping us off. I felt like I was back in New York!” he said, followed by some awkward chuckles from the anchors. The house was left unfinished, but Snider got in touch with the subcontractors, got everything done, and finally moved in. He said he lost hundreds of thousands of dollars, though, and is still in litigation with the original contractor, whose real name he won’t provide. “Satan, as we call him in our house,” Snider said.
Anyhow, he’s here. For real. Does that mean people will just leave him alone? No! A fellow dad in town spotted him at the pharmacy recently and helped him find some children’s medicine. Snider thanked him, and the dad just couldn’t resist pointing at the bottle and saying “Oh, so you’re not going to take it.”
Oak Ridge has come a long way since I was a cadet there from 69-71. But I, as a 14 year-old, could buy cigarettes at the school's Cadet Exchange, so it was demonstrably better then.
Great read again! Dee in NC makes no sense and then again, perfect sense. Hoping his company does well.