RE: My Hatred Of Rednecks...
September 26, 2016 at 5:26 pm
(This post was last modified: September 26, 2016 at 5:49 pm by Crossless2.0.)
In my experience, limited though it is, you are much more likely to hitch a ride after your car has broken down from a redneck than from one of his city mouse cousins. For that matter, the redneck is more likely to stop and take time out of his day to poke his head under your hood to help you figure out what's wrong. And there's nothing like rural hospitality.
I grew up in a very rural area. My hometown in North Dakota is entirely driven by the local farm economy, and it's populated by hard-working people who don't put on airs. I have an uncle who did extremely well for himself in one of the 'professional' fields and was a bit full of himself thanks to his income. I recall how he once made an ass of himself at a family/friends-of-family gathering with his ostentatious behavior. Little did he know but the man he was being obnoxious in front of owned something like 60% of all the farmland in our county and could have bought and sold my uncle many, many, many times over. But you'd never guess the humble guy in the plain work shirt, sipping his Old Milwaukee, was the richest guy in just about any room he entered. Just a good guy with simple tastes.
By the way, it wasn't the farmer who called out my uncle. He was too much a gentleman to do so. It was my mother, after the other guests had left.
I grew up in a very rural area. My hometown in North Dakota is entirely driven by the local farm economy, and it's populated by hard-working people who don't put on airs. I have an uncle who did extremely well for himself in one of the 'professional' fields and was a bit full of himself thanks to his income. I recall how he once made an ass of himself at a family/friends-of-family gathering with his ostentatious behavior. Little did he know but the man he was being obnoxious in front of owned something like 60% of all the farmland in our county and could have bought and sold my uncle many, many, many times over. But you'd never guess the humble guy in the plain work shirt, sipping his Old Milwaukee, was the richest guy in just about any room he entered. Just a good guy with simple tastes.
By the way, it wasn't the farmer who called out my uncle. He was too much a gentleman to do so. It was my mother, after the other guests had left.
