I don't know why I've been on a redneck kick lately. I guess it started the other day when I saw the words "I'm a redneck" etched on the back glass of a pickup in the newspaper parking lot. For those of you who don't know, I'm in South Arkansas, a.k.a. redneck central. Usually I don't mind; I can hang with the best of them, make them feel at home without condescension.
After all, I grew up in East Texas, where cow patties outnumber people two to one. I hope I didn't offend any good Texans out there, that surely wasn't my intention. I just have a hard time believing that people actually want to embrace stupidity. That they want the word "redneck" emblazoned on them like the red badge of courage.
Oh well, it makes good fodder for places like this blog. If you want a good laugh sometime, go to Google's image section and type in "redneck." You will be amazed at what you find. There's a naked, beer-bellied 50-something on front porch commode, a school bus with a single-wide trailer tacked on its chassis and a host of other treasures from the proud purveyors of all things uncouth.
Hot damn, I love the South.
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