Tuesday, June 20, 2023

ALL HICKETY!

The two best examples of Southern Womanhood are Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene. They're also the worst. So they're perfect. Almost more than anyone else possibly could, they represent why visiting the region between the Oakland Hills and Brooklyn is a bad idea. People like that cook, have menfolk who are accustomed to their social and cultural environments, and shoot blacks and foreigners driving through town.

Not being black, I suppose I could risk it. But I would probably ask some one there "good lord you're dumb as a brick, how did you ever figger out how to operate the meat grinder, Bubba", and the jig would be up.

Besides, the constant banjo music and junkfood would get to me.

As well as all that festering Christianity.

Sweet Jayzus.


A friend who lives in the West Bank is originally from there, the area between the Oakland Hills and Brooklyn. He loves the place, and banjo music has entered his soul. Remarkably he's also a hippie pothead in some ways, and, I suspect, emotionally attached to junkfood. Nice chap, but an example of how cultural rot affects the mind. We first encountered each other when he disputed the proper method of rubbing turkey skin prior to roasting.
At the time I may have suggested that roast turkey looked like nothing so much as a tanned elderly playboy's rear end, and that in any case the flavour left a lot to be desired, even if the stuffing was basically glutinous rice, black mushroom, and lap cheung, after which he gibbered a bit about Jerusalem if I remember correctly.

Remember, he's from the centre of the country. Where I've got kinfolk, seeing as my earliest American ancestors came here when the Dutch still owned New York, and by the time of the revolution we had spread to New England, Virginia, and the Carolinas.

Undoubtedly, some of my (now very) distant kin play banjos.

I might even be related to Boebert and Greene.

Family reunions must be hell.

Turkeys.



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