Don’t it feel good to be called a country redneck? Real simple as he has been sweatin’ in the hot sun and working hard. What do you call a non-redneck? Please decipher that for us proud Southern rednecks.
As I reminisce there are several things I just don’t understand. So help me “figger.” I believe rings go in hog ‘snoots’, tattoos go on branded cows, while purple, pink and green hair goes on Shrine Circus clowns. If a cell phone was being screamed at in a moving vehicle, the engine would explode like an atom bomb, head for a cotton field mud hole and mire up like a broke axled overloaded ox wagon.
Phil reminded me growing up that trucks didn’t have power steering and it took two hands to stay out of a ditch. Ain’t no way you could even talk with yo’ hands full of phones, radios, cds, books, makeup while trying to adjust the mirror to admire yo’self.
Have you ever thought if folks left home ten minutes earlier, they wouldn’t have to practice their own private NASCAR circuit on the highways and byways? Possibly be courteous and friendly as all were many, many years ago.
Friends wouldn’t it be nice if each community only required a police chief and his primary function was to retrieve a scared cat from a tall maple tree maybe three times a year? Mona Joyce and Lynn reminded me with, “We didn’t lock our doors when we grew up.” Emerson chimed in, “We lost our keys so we couldn’t lock up.” Bud locked the smokehouse once when the family took a vacation. Yep! It took a hacksaw and the useless lock was dangled in the hook just so the door wouldn’t fly open. No crime!
Neighbor, wouldn’t it crumble yo’ corn bread if those Preacha’ television evangelists announced live on the air, “don’t send no money, we gonna’ heal for nothing?” I’d drop my big tea glass of clabber milk, spoon, chopped onion and splatter it all over the floor.
Beloved, I guess there are just some things frankly I don’t understand and never will. Why in the world would billions of dollars be spent for one individual to be president of our United States of our America and waste all this money on a job that don’t pay but two hundred thousand dollars a year? Ain’t much logic there? Try puttin’ in a cotton crop that cost one billion dollars. Now sell that same crop for two hundred thousand. How long would that farming last? Can you believe these same brilliant intellectual genius folks are now our leaders? Don’t they realize we get television on the same day they do?
I reckon we claim to be the smartest folks in the world. We done got us a man on the moon. I don’t know what he is doing up there? Maybe he wanted to get away from his ex-mother in law. We have domed stadiums and ball parks costing billions. Some folks are digging up and checking bones from a million years ago of over grown mules? Why waste money? As Paul said, “them folks got too much time on their hands.”
I don’t understand why in the world we can’t ‘figger’ out a way for our Senior Citizens to receive health care with out taking all their precious hard earned money. These wonderful folks led this nation to greatness by hard work. Why can’t they be rewarded with some compassion today? Without ’em where would we be? So pay for doctors and medicine. If we live along enough we gonna’ be in the same slowly tippin’ over boat. So just listen to my Southern Rednecks as they got all the answers…GLORY!
Otis Griffin is the author of the book “Southern Raisin.” He was born in Charleston, Tenn., and attended Rosemark Grammar School and Bolton High School. For more from Griffin, log on to shakeragproductions.com.