Redneck Aspirations
As I stared at the daunting task ahead of me I was in despair. Being the father of three boys - three very active boys - I had learned that things around the house do not stay nice for very long. This included, on this day, the ceiling of one of their bedrooms. Out of anger, or just curiosity more likely, he had taken a broom and poked holes in the ceiling with the handle. So I proceeded to fix the first hole with spackling. As these were deep holes it took several applications with drying time in between to get it right. I thought to myself "there HAS to be an easier way!" Then it hit me. What would the average redneck do in this situation?
You see, for years I had tried to gain access to this culture known as the "Hillbilly Redneck".... to fit in and bond with them. Thus far all my attempts were in vain. Anything I did or said would result in dull, blank stares, or the more familiar "What the hell are you doin shithead?". I never quite grasped the subtleties necessary to walk up to a group of them and be accepted as a "Good Ole Boy". I tried, mind you. I chewed tobacco , had a junk car towed into my yard, and tried to persuade my wife to let me fulfill the other two requirements: A dog (contrary to popular belief it doesn't have to be a huntin dog, just any old mutt will do as long as you let it take it's dumps in the neighbors yard), and a CB. Yep, you thought Citizen Band Radio was dead huh? Wrong! Even though the newfangled cell phones with the waterproof Skoal compartments are catching on there's still nothing like talkin to Sweet Little Thang on channel 14 and making yourself believe that she's really NOT a 340 pound grandma with a butt hanging out of her mouth and a half of a 12 pack of Iron City sitting beside the bowl of Hershey's Kisses. But my wife would have none of it so I had settled into being a redneck wannabe.
However, my years of study and hard work were about to pay off. Duct tape! The universal fix-all which every good ole boy has would be my savior. So without hesitation I just put some tape over the remaining holes and slapped a dab of spackling on top of that, painted the whole thing and had a job done that even Joe down at the bait shop would be proud of! I could just picture them all standing there staring at my ceiling in awe, then giving me an approving nod before spitting a wad of chaw in the general direction of my trash can. Then, I will know that my life is fulfilled.
You see, for years I had tried to gain access to this culture known as the "Hillbilly Redneck".... to fit in and bond with them. Thus far all my attempts were in vain. Anything I did or said would result in dull, blank stares, or the more familiar "What the hell are you doin shithead?". I never quite grasped the subtleties necessary to walk up to a group of them and be accepted as a "Good Ole Boy". I tried, mind you. I chewed tobacco , had a junk car towed into my yard, and tried to persuade my wife to let me fulfill the other two requirements: A dog (contrary to popular belief it doesn't have to be a huntin dog, just any old mutt will do as long as you let it take it's dumps in the neighbors yard), and a CB. Yep, you thought Citizen Band Radio was dead huh? Wrong! Even though the newfangled cell phones with the waterproof Skoal compartments are catching on there's still nothing like talkin to Sweet Little Thang on channel 14 and making yourself believe that she's really NOT a 340 pound grandma with a butt hanging out of her mouth and a half of a 12 pack of Iron City sitting beside the bowl of Hershey's Kisses. But my wife would have none of it so I had settled into being a redneck wannabe.
However, my years of study and hard work were about to pay off. Duct tape! The universal fix-all which every good ole boy has would be my savior. So without hesitation I just put some tape over the remaining holes and slapped a dab of spackling on top of that, painted the whole thing and had a job done that even Joe down at the bait shop would be proud of! I could just picture them all standing there staring at my ceiling in awe, then giving me an approving nod before spitting a wad of chaw in the general direction of my trash can. Then, I will know that my life is fulfilled.
posted by Tim at Friday, February 10, 2006
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