BLESS THEIR HEARTS!

This blogger sure likes Southern literature. Tennessee Williams, Flannery O'Conner, and William Faulkner are very good reads, never mind that they wrote in jargon. O. Henry remains one of my favourite short story writers. And while Rita Mae Brown is NOT from the South at all (no matter how you stretch it, Pennsylvania isn't even close), her seminal novel Ruby Fruit Jungle remains a loving tribute to the genre.

In response to my recent essays taking issue with mint juleps and the entire rest of the United States (see respectively here: Cocktails, and here: East Coast), a fellow pipe smoker on a forum for our kind penned a thoughtful screed in kind remonstrance.


Which many of my blog readers would be unaware of, because they do not read the Pipe Forum pages. Sad.

So I will paste it below. It deserves wider dissemination.


PASTE:
Oh, dear. What I thought was an anti-Southern bias may, in fact, be mere ignorance. You poor, deluded folk on the Left Coast are quite removed from basic Southern realities as to be relatively amusing - though I WILL say that anyone who thinks pineapple and pizza are diametrically opposed entities clearly does at least have a modicum of sense.

To start, while you didn’t directly address bourbon, this drink is an important ingredient of the Southern lifestyle. On the Seventh Day God created Kentucky and said, “Bourbon is good”. The South without bourbon would be a lesser, sadder place. The world without bourbon would be a lesser, sadder place. It should be noted that after his first sample of bourbon, Rene Descartes revised his texts to read, “I think, therefore I drink”. (It should also be noted that the stuff brewed in Tennessee is NOT bourbon, it is a lesser, simpler form of whiskey.)

Please bear with me while I clear up some rather glaring inaccuracies in your essay. In the South we have the option of choice. If one likes a thick crust pizza then one gets a thick crust. Deep dish? sure. Thin and crispy? Well, frankly you’re just sick, but we have it here, too. While that sadly includes perverts who put pineapple on a pie and call it “pizza”, it also includes some really good stuff like sausage, bacon, and feta cheese. In the end, though, to judge a region on its pizza is pretty stifling. Besides, eat one slice of “Barbecue Pizza” and you might export my beloved South to the Pacific and sink it. Anyway, pizza only matters when the venison and possum run out.

The United States is actually divided into two areas, The South and The Leftovers. The true South extends from the southern Georgia border north to the North Carolina/Virginia state line. To the west, once you cross the North Carolina/South Carolina/Georgia western lines you’re crossing into iffy territory. Alabama, Tennessee and Kentucky are border states, which are also known as para-militarized, militia-filled zones. We arm these folk to keep outsiders outside. Yes, states such as these, and Mississippi, may make some legitimate claims on their Southern heritage, and so are included in the Technical South, though many of us True Southerners recognize the factual savagery still in these states. True Southerners, while recognizing Richmond as the historic capitol of our erstwhile empire, realize that Virginia is long lost. True Southerners also recognize that Florida was never a part of us, and that Florida Man is NOT a good example of the Southern lifestyle.

And we’re back to food. Folks, have you seen Southern women? It’s obvious from a quick sampling of the female Southern physique that not only is food important down here, but it is worshipped. Males who like breasts are encouraged to move here, where one average female breast is large enough to require its own room (and its own private chef). (Interestingly, the Southern Male penis is rather small from years of trying to stay hidden altogether, and many Southern males have fully replaced their penises with assault rifles.) It should be clear simply from the number of fights, fracases, and football games that the Southern diet energizes our lives. I’ll note that only ruffians or barbarians drink something called “iced tea” which isn’t made without at least a bag of sugar in it – true “iced tea” is sugary enough to cause a diabetic coma within two glasses when consumed by a typical New Yorker.

But let’s get to the nitty-gritty of the issue. As you stated, California doesn’t grow tobacco. I don’t know of anyone on the Left Coast who does – though they do clearly grow another pipe product. The great farms of the Central Plains don’t produce tobacco. The only tobacco from the North is the “Connecticut Wrapper” which is used on cigars but sounds more like the name of an exceptionally bad white musician. Real American tobacco comes from one place, and only one place. It comes from the American South. I rest my case.

------John O.

END PASTE


Alas, because of medications that interact badly with alcohol, I cannot drink Bourbon. Instead I make do with strong coffee and even stronger tea.

Which would have been a "life-style choice" anyhow.

I haven't seen an actual breast in too long.

Grits ARE available here.





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