Do You Honor Parking Chairs in Your Culture?

I'm starting to think that maybe we should have TVP45 sedated and bound for the benefit of man...

on second thought... have at it TVP, I could use the entertainment!

I don't know your age, but, if you're not old, when you get there, read Dylan Thomas's Do not go gentle into that dark night. and you'll find why I work so hard at being so stupid. (Well, actually, it's easy for me, but you get the idea.)

Rage, rage against the dying of the light?

Don't work too hard at being stupid, in my experience stupid people get what they deserve (even if it takes a really long time).. perhaps you could foster a sort of quasi senility, get all the perks of being old with no diapers or cosmic backlash to worry about...

Here's a cartoon to illustrate my point.

thanks, now I have to clean the coffee of my screen... jerk

So that was you in the truck!

Sorry about the mess...

Wait a minute, do not cast aspersions on rednecks - I am one, and my "redneck" neighbors will help with snow shoveling, will be patient at intersections when a person stalls their standard shift (with me when I was learning) and will slow and allow people into their lane, if traffic is heavy at interstate on and off ramps. It's the urbanites, and I'm guessing transplants who won't do this, since they are also typically impatient on rural roads when people who know each other and are passing in opposite lanes will stop for a chat when there's no one following. We do start up and go on when someone comes up, but it takes a minute to close a conversion. If you're from here you understand that.

If you're gonna live up there, you have to learn "flatlander code" - it's an odd way they have of communicating. For example, if you're stopped in the road to ask Zeke Moyers if he's got any hay to sell, and one of 'em comes up behind and blows his horn two short beeps and one long honk, you might think he's impatient. But, that's just flatland code for, "I've been wanting to meet Jesus. By chance, would you have the Reverend Mossberg or Pastor Ithaca in the truck with you?"

The fact that you're both literate and know how to use a computer speaks for itself: you're no redneck.

Nice try, but no cigar.

not true, rednecks are cleverer than you give them credit.

A little historical background: the term "redneck" originated with the red neck scarves worn by the miners in southern WV during the mine wars of the 1920's. And here's the kicker; there were two black members of the KKK, one a Baptist minister, in Logan County during that era. They were all united in fighting the coal companies, the Pinkertons and the US government. Coal mining is in my family; it's my culture. Ergo, I'm a redneck - and I'm not racist, just a little tetchy about some things.

If he keeps bugging you, put on your Hazel Dickens CD. That'll fix him.

Hello Jaen,

We're dealing with semantics here. To me, a redneck is someone that is unreasonable, prone to quick anger without understanding the issue, unreasonably territorial, and paranoid. This is due, I expect, to deep-seated insecurity. I used to live in NC and ran into confrontations with several of them. It seems that they also resent people that have an advanced education (what a surprise).

Alternately, I have met some really great people from the southern states, some of whom are still very good friends!

In conclusion, I doubt that we're talking about the same people.

Mike

Bingo. That kind of redneck. The trailer trash kind. Beats his wife and kids, and "whose best friend floats in the bottom of a glass.*"

_{^{* Elton John, Saturday Night's Alright for a Fight}}

I used to live in a trailer park. It's not bad; you just have to remember to go indoors quickly as soon as you hear the banjos.

Now down in my adopted 2nd home area (Huntington, WV/Ashland, KY), they tell me it all starts with tossing a banjo in the air and whoever catches can darn sure play it.

I kinda like bluegrass too, so I fit in when I turn 100% Redneck.

Ain't done the Trailer Park living yet, but maybe I will find a gal who lives in one and see how that scenario plays out.

In reality, a couple of the best welders and fitters I have ever run across are bona fide rednecks (about 120%) and wish I could use them on every project I come across.

One of the CWIs down there with his UT machine and beef farm is also top of the line.

And all of the gals I met still have their teeth.

Howdy TVP45,

Here's a few tips for what to do about the banjo music. I have tested these myself and I know they work.

Just leave 'em a note telling 'em how truly you appreciate their extraordinary musical talents and 'happen to mention' that the Grand Ol' Opry is really desperate for pickers & grinners right now and they're taking applications. Include a courtesy map with the driving route prominently outlined in yellow highlighter. If it so happens that you actually live near the Opry, then tell 'em the same thing except that you substitute the words "Preservation Hall, New Orleans, LA" for the words "Grand Ol' Opry."

In the latter case, hand-draw a fake gift certificate that says it's good for one All-Night-All-You-Kin-Drink-Binge at any reputable Bourbon Street establishment, not that there actually are any. Write this part in extra-big letters and draw a jug with with 'XXX' scrawled on the front of it.. Heck, write everything in extra-big letters 'cuz they don't read too well, if at all. Don't worry about them not being able to read 'cuz the the jug you sketched says it all.

Make two dozen copies of your 'gift certificate' and put the copies along with your note in a quart-size ZipLoc bag. Then deliver it, but be prudent about when you do it.

If you tape your little 'care package' to their broken-down screen door in the morning, they'll still be passed-out from last night's drunken brawl and you'll be just fine. If they don't have a broken-down screen door you can always tape it to the sun-bleached hood of one of the cars up on cinder blocks in their front yard. Just set a jug of grapefruit wine right next to your ZipLoc bag to ensure that both get noticed. Then walk away slowly 'cuz their dogs are usually armed.

Attila

I've really enjoyed your thread, by the way. Thought I'd tell you that.

That wasn't the banjer music I was referring to. But, if I had any gift certificates to the Grand Ole Opry, I'd use 'em myself. I always wanted to meet that Miss Minnie Pearl. And, Stringbean, where did he buy those shirts? Maybe he'd tell me; mine keep pulling out of my pants.

But, if you really like that kind of music (Do you flatfoot?), Nashville isn't the place to be. You wanna go up into Letcher Co, KY and see if Lee Sexton is still alive. He was (is?) the best drop-thumb banjo player I ever heard. Plus, the fellows up on the Cumberland will make you right to home.