Take a moment to laugh, it's good for the soul

Rules of the South

Save all manner of bacon grease. If it can't be fried in bacon grease, it ain't worth cooking, let alone eating.

If you do run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in the cab of a four-wheel-drive with a 12-pack of beer and a tow chain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them. Just stay out of their way: This is what they live for.

Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and fishing bait in the same store.

Remember: "Y'all" is singular.

"All y'all" is plural. "All y'all's" is plural possessive.

There is nothing sillier than a northerner imitating a Southern accent, unless it is a Southerner imitating a New Jersey accent.

People walk slower here.

Don't be worried that you don't understand anyone. They don't understand you either.

The first Southern expression to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective "Big ol'", as in "big ol' truck" or "big ol' boy". Eighty-five percent begin their new southern influenced dialect with this expression. One hundred percent are in denial about it.

The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.

"He needed killin'" is a valid defense here.

If attending a funeral in the South: remember, we stay until the last shovel of dirt is thrown on and the tent is torn down.

Northerners can be identified by the spit on the inside of their car's windshield that comes from yelling at other drivers.

The winter wardrobe you always brought out in September can wait until November.

If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the tiniest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It does not matter if you need anything from the store, it is just something you're supposed to do.

As you are cursing the person driving 15 mph in a 55 mph zone, directly in the middle of the road, remember, many folks learned to drive on a model of vehicle known as John Deere, and this is the proper speed and lane position for the vehicle.

You can ask a Southerner for directions, but unless you already know the positions of key hills, trees and rocks, you're better off trying to find it yourself.

That farm boy you see at the gas station did MORE work before breakfast than you do all week at the gym.

It's called a "gravel road." No matter how slow you drive, you're going to get dust on your Navigator. Drive it or get out of the way.

The red dirt -- it's called clay. Red clay. If you like the color, don't wash your car for a couple weeks -- it'll be permanent.

We all started hunting and fishing when we were seven years old. Yeah, we saw Bambi. We got over it.

Go ahead and bring your $600 Orvis Fly Rod. Don't cry to us if a flathead breaks it off at the handle. We have a name for those little 13-inch trout you fish for -- bait.

Pull your pants up. You look like an idiot.

If that cell phone rings while a bunch of mallards (ducks) are making their final approach, we will shoot it (the phone). You might want to ensure it's not up to your ear at the time.

No, there's no "Vegetarian Special" on the menu. Order steak. Order it rare. Or, you can order the Chef's Salad and pick off the two pounds of ham and turkey.

Tea - yeah, we have tea. It comes in a glass over ice and is really, really sweet. You want it hot -- sit it in the sun. You want it unsweetened -- add a LOT of water.

So, you have a sixty thousand dollar car. We're real impressed. We have a quarter of a million-dollar combine (it's farm equipment) that we only use two weeks a year.

Let's get this straight. We have one stoplight in town. We stop when it's red. We may even stop when it's yellow.

We eat dinner together with our families. We pray before we eat (yeah, even breakfast). We go to church on Wednesdays and Sundays and we go to high school football games on Friday nights. We still address our seniors with "yes, sir" and "yes, ma'am," and we sometimes still take Sunday drives around town to see friends and neighbors.

We don't do "hurry up" well.

Greens - yeah, we have greens, but you don't putt on them. You boil them with salty fatback, bacon or a ham hock.

Yeah, we eat catfish, bass, bream (pronounced brim) and carp. You really want sushi and caviar? It's available at the bait shop.

They are pigs. That's what they smell like (money). Get it -- pig farms -- income -- money? Get over it. Don't like the smell? Interstate 75 goes two ways. Interstate 20 goes the other two. Pick one.

Grits are corn. You put butter, salt, and maybe even some pepper on them. If you want to put milk and sugar on them, then you want Cream of Wheat --go to Kansas. That would be I-20 West.

The "Opener" refers to the first day of deer season or dove season. Both are holidays. You can get pancakes, cane syrup, and sausage before daylight at the church on either day.

So every person in every pickup waves? Yeah, it's called being friendly. Understand the concept?

Yeah, we have golf courses. Don't hit in the water hazards. It spooks the fish and bothers the gators...and if you hit it in the rough, we have these things called diamondbacks, and they're not baseball players.

That Highway Patrol Officer that just pulled you over for driving like an idiot...his name is "Sir," no matter how young he is.

We have lots of pine trees. They have sap. It drips from them. You park your Navigator under them, and they'll leave a logo on your hood.

No, we don't care how you do things in California or up North. If it is so great, why not stay there?

And no, down here we don't have an accent. You do.

Two Peas in a Pod

There are two things causing quite a stir around town lately. And while these two things are separate in function and in essence, they are definite bedfellows and where one is, you will most certainly find the other. I'm sure you've heard by now the 'insensitive' remarks made by Ann Coulter at a large conservative rally. I'm also pretty sure you heard the news that ol' Al Sharpton got the other day. And I'm even guessing that you may have heard the latest from the great state of Virginia. Oh, and let's not forget the buzz word 'reparations.'

In case you're still wondering, the two companions I speak of are "political correctness" and "offense."

Now, I happen to be a big fan of Lewis Grizzard. And for those few out there who have ever cared to read my posts in the past, you probably would remember this.

I was having a Grizzard moment tonight. I felt the desire to pull off my bookshelf one of my personal favourites, "Southern by the Grace of God." Lo and behold, to what did appear to my eyes! I had quite forgotten all about this piece he wrote called "I wish I was...Politically Correct in Dixie"; I figured I'd just might as well share it with you. So, y'all sit back and read this. Oh, and if you dont find this politically correct enough and you take offense, well, I just dont know what to tell you. But I do know that 'sorry' ain't it!

{I certainly agree with all those who have protested the playing of "Dixie" at Southern football games.

Although slavery isn't mentioned in the song, it still makes people think of the Old South, where every white person owned African-American slaves.

"Dixie" is definitely a politically incorrect piece of music. Even the word is offensive to some, and I apologize to those who are offended by my use of it.

But I'm proud to say my alma mater, the University of Georgia, years ago rid itself of any connection with the song or the word you-know-what (see, I didn't use the word that time, as I despise offending people).

The Georgia band used to play the song at football games. But not anymore. The only place they still play the song is at the University of Mississippi. They also wave Confederate flags and they allow prayer before a football game.

I'm not certain how long it will be before members of the Speech Police move in and shut down such rephrehensible behavior, but it could be any day now.

Georgia not only stopped playing the song, it even changed the name of the band, formerly known as the Dixie Redcoat Band. It became simply the Redcoat Band.

That prompted my stepbrother, Ludlow Porch, the famous radio talk show personality, to fire off a letter to the editor suggesting the following: "I applaud the dropping of 'Dixie' from the name of the University of Georgia band, but let us not stop there.

How can we allow the word 'red' which stands for communism? And the word 'redcoat' itself is an affront to the memory of all those Americans who fought against the redcoats of England in the Revolutionary War.

And 'band.' Poncho Villa had a 'band' of desperadoes and we had to send brave young soldiers into Mexico after him. So 'band' should go, too, and that just leaves 'The', which is a dumb name for a large group of musicians, so I guess they're just out of a name altogether.

I believe if we really try we can wipe away all symbols of the Old South forever. There's a company in Savannah that makes Dixie Crystal Sugar. Sorry, it's just Crystal Sugar from now on, and don't give me any grief about it.

And there's even a Dixie highway in the South. It should be referred to from now on only as Highway. As in, 'Well, you take Highway, then go down three blocks and...' There are even people named Dixie, believe it or not. They will have to get new first names, or go by their middle names. And if anybody named Dixie lives on Dixie Highway, the Speech Police will likely demand they be shot.

And if the song and word 'Dixie' are symbolic of the Old South, I guess we ought to stop using 'Old South' as well. Instead of saying 'Old South' perhaps we can refer to it as 'Back Then,' and we can roll our eyes when we use it so everybody will know we aren't talking about when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, but when slaveholders used to go around singing songs like 'Dixie' and 'Eating Goober Peas.'

But wait. 'Eating Goober Peas' is a song from Back Then, too, so don't anybody dare play that at a football game.

Songs about killing innocent people, incidentally, are just fine.}

No Offense, but I'm taking Offense

OK, it's time. I got into another Lewis Grizzard moment tonight. It's been a few months since I sat down and read any of his work. So, I took one of my favourites, "Southern By the Grace of God" off the bookshelf and leafed through.

Everybody it seems is offended by something or another these days. I'm sure I've even offended some friends lately. I dont mean to, but somehow, I do.

Well, in light of this, I came across this piece by Mr. Grizzard, "No offense, but I'm taking offense." So, I shall share it with y'all. Oh, and please, dont be offended!

{I'm offended.

I never thought I would say that because I'm an easy-going type of guy who figures it's a lot less stressful not to let anybody get to me.

But these are the 90's, and getting offended is "in", like drinking bottled water, refusing to eat red meat, and cursing smokers.

Hardly a day passes that somebody doesn't make the news by getting offended.

Sister Souljah, the rap person, rapped about killing while people, and then she became offended because Bill Clinton said she was a racist for doing such a thing.

Jessie Jackson, who was born offended, also got offended by Mr. Clinton's remarks, so it was a 2-on-1 fastbreak, two offendees on one offender. Hardly sounds fair, but that's baseball these days.

And that brings up Native Americans becoming offended by Atlanta Braves fans' tomahawk chop and criminals becoming offended by the name Texas Rangers, since Texas Rangers are law enforcement people who nab a lot of criminals and send them to jail.

So why should I be left off the bandwagon of offendees? It's a free country, isn't it? Here's why I'm offended.

There was an article on the front page of the Atlanta newspaper the other day concerning suburban Clayton County promoting itself as a nice place to live in order to persuade more Atlanta area people to move there.

The second paragraph began: "Feeling that the county has been treated for years as metro Atlanta's redneck stepchild..."

That offended me.

In the first place, I know the orgin of the term "redneck" and several members of my family fell into that catagory.

"Redneck" got its start when ruralites came to town on Saturdays to buy feed, seed, and maybe a new pair of brogans.

These people made their living working in the fields under the hot sun growing food, a very worthwhile endeavor, and their necks often became sunburned.

Townfolk, who tend to be snooty, thought these people ignorant, uncouth and undesirable because they tended to drive pickup trucks, listen to the Grand Ol' Opry on the radio Friday nights, and to be humble.

They were easy to pick on, in other words. My grandfather was one of those people. He made his living from behind a mule, and his neck got red. He also liked Ernest Tubb, and I never heard him make a loud, bodacious statement of any kind.

He also was the most gentle, caring person I've ever known, and I'm glad he didn't live long enough to see the term applied to him become such a derisive label.

In the second place let us discuss the term "stepchild."

In the context it was used - redneck stepchild - it seemed to indicate someone of that description was a most undesirable individual.

I spring from those who worked the soil and became red of neck, and I had a stepfather, so I was a stepchild, and that makes me twice offended.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to ride around in my red blazer - a sort of pickup truck - and pout.}

Tribute to 2 "late, greats"-Lewis Grizzard and Fred Arnold

Sometimes people come along and leave their mark on the world and when they die, the world has lost something. I remember when I was in high school, my grandpa became ill and would eventually pass away from this illness.

As a kid "Papa" and I would watch "Hee Haw" together and thanks to him, I got my love of country and bluegrass music. Being with him, I got to learn the music of Eddie Arnold, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams and the likes. He would take me on walks to my great-Grandma's house and we would walk through the rows of her garden and he would always point out what this was or that was.

I remember after he got sick, he couldn't really get out much anymore, so my mom would check out books from the library for him. I think she checked out every Lewis Grizzard book the library had at the time. And again, thanks to him, Lewis Grizzard became a favourite writer, commentator, comedian, and defender of the South.

Recently I came across a book in my library that I haven't read in about a year. Of course, I'm talkin' about a book by Lewis Grizzard. "Southern by the Grace of God."
I thought I'd leave a few of the more memorable excerpts here.

BORN RIGHT

"All of us native Southerners knew it was coming. And now, it is here. The Sunday paper carried a large article about Northern migration to the capital city of the South.

In the metro Atlanta area, the article said, native Georgians still have the edge, but it's not an overpowering one and the margin is dwindling. Said the article, "The migration patterns that brought Northeasterners to Atlanta's elite northern suburbs also sent people from the other regions to spots around the metro area. These settling patterns....have brought a new sense of place to dozens of Atlanta neighborhoods, influencing everything from the local politics to the inventory at the corner grocery store."

The article also quoted Yankee population expert, William Frey of the University of Michigan, as saying, "The nice Southern flavor of Atlanta may be diluted a bit with all the Northerners moving in."

The nice Southern flavor of Atlanta may be diluted a bit....

I certainly understand why somebody from the land of freeze and squeeze would want to seek asylum here. A friend, also a native Southerner, who shares my fear about losing our Southern flavor, put it way: "Nobody is going into an Atlanta bar tonight celebrating because they've just been transferred to New Jersey."

So what should I expect as my beloved Southland becomes more populated with migrating honkers? (Honker" Northerner with a grating accent who always talks at the top of his or her voice.) Will Southerners start dropping the last part of everybody's first name like the honkers do? Will I forever be Lew? Will Mary become Mare? Will Nancy become Nance? Will Bubba become Bub?

Will the automobile horn drown out the lilt of "Georgia on My Mind"? Will they dig a tunnel through Stone Mountain so native New Yorkers can remember the dark, choking atmosphere of the Lincoln and the Holland Tunnels? Will Harold's barbeque, 45 years in business, lose it's clientele to delicatessens where you have to scream at the top of your voice to get somebody to take your order for pastrami on pumpernickle?

Will the downtown Atlanta statue of the Phoenix, symbolic of the city's rising form the ashes, be replaced by a statue of Sherman holding a can of lighter fluid? Will grits become extinct? Will corn bread give way to the bagel? Will everybody, including native Southerners, start calling Atlanta's pro football team the "Fall-cuns" like the Yankee sportscasters, instead of the way it's supposed to be pronounced, "Fowl-cuns?"

Will "freeway" replace "expressway"? Will "soda" or "pop" replace "Co-coler"? Will Southern men start wearing black socks and sandals with Bermuda shorts? Will "Y'all come back" become "Git outta here"?

I was having lunch at an Atlanta golf club recently. A man sitting at another table heard me speaking and asked, "Where are you all from?" He was mocking me. He was mocking my Southern accent. He was sitting in Atlanta, Georgia, making fund of the way I speak.

He was from Toledo. He had been transferred to Atlanta. If I hadn't been 46 years old, skinny, and a basic coward with a bad heart, I'd have punched him. I did, however, give him a severe verbal dressing down.

I was in my doctor's office in Atlanta. One of the women who works there, a transplanted Northerner, asked how I pronounced the word "siren." I said I pronounced it "si-reen." I was half kidding, but that is the way I heard the word pronounced when I was a child.

The woman laughed and said, "You Southerners really crack me up. You have a language all your own."

Yeah, we do. If you don't like it, go back home and stick your head in a snow bank. We really don't care how you said it or how you did it back in Buffalo.

I read a piece on the op-ed page of the "Constitution" written by somebody who in the jargon of my past, "ain't from around here." He wrote white Southerners are always looking back and that we should look forward. He said that about me. He was reacting to a bumper sticker that shows the old Confederate soldier saying, "FERGIT, HELL!"

I don't go around sulking about the fact that the South lost the Civil War. But I am aware that once upon a long time ago, a group of Americans saw fit to rebel against what they thought was an overbearing federal government. Ther is no record anywhere that indicates anybody in my family living in 1861 owned slaves. As a matter of fact, I come from a long line of sharecroppers, horse thieves, and used car dealers. But a few of them fought anyway - not to keep their slaves, because they didn't have any. I guess they simply thought it was the right thing to do at the time.

Whatever their reasons, there was a citizenry that once say fit to fight and die and I come from all that, and I look at those people as brave and gallant, and a frightful force until their hearts and their lands were burnt away.

I will never turn my back on that heritage. I am proud to be a Southerner. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: I'm an American by birth, but I'm a Southerner by the grace of God."

In case you Yankees haven't figured it out yet...

Here is another installment of "You might be a Yankee if...". This is from the brilliant mind of a God fearing, Bible believing, Christian Confederate brother in Oklahoma.

Thank you, my friend, for letting me post your talents here!

You might be a Yankee if...

~ You don't like to be confused with the truth.

~ You have an aversion to the truth when it threatens your favourite myths.

~ Money and self-gratification mean more to you than Christian morals and honour.

~ You, like, say "like" in, like, almost every sentence.

~ You think it's part of being a good Christian to idolize the US flag, including in church.

~ You wear your ballcap backwards to look "cool."

~ You like to dress and behave the same as gang members and rappers from Los Angeles.

~ You wear pierced jewelry in bizarre places of your anatomy.

~ You listen to rap "music."

How to tell if you are a Yankee

Even though this has gone around cyberspace a few times, it gets better every trip around. So, I thought I'd post it here for "educational purposes." Have a Dixie Day!

YOU MIGHT BE A YANKEE IF:

1. Your wife opens the door for you.

2. You let doors slam in anyone’s face (male or female).

3. You think dinner and supper are the same meal.

4. Your philosophy is "there oughta be a law."

5. You escape high taxes in the North and vote to raise them in the South.

6. Your socks match your "outfit."

7. You're a winter resident of "Floorida."

8. What's on TV tonight is important.

9. Who won the academy awards is news.

10. You believe your newspaper contains news.

11. Y'all is one person.

12. You wave at the lady with the flat tire.

13. You consider yourself a "progressive" instead of a nosy, busybody do-gooder.

14. You talk through your nose.

15. You fall for a Southern used car salesman turned president.

16. You're patriotic no matter what the government does.

17. You're offended by Southern symbols in the South.

18. You talk with your mouth full.

19. Your parents never taught you to say “thank you.”

20. You think addressing your elders as “Sir” and “Ma’am” will hurt your self esteem.

21. You consider your car a status symbol.

22. You take the Wall Street Journal so your neighbors will see it in your driveway.

23. You call everyone “guys.”

24. When you want others to think you’ve done something extraordinary, you holler, “Yesssss!”



YOU'RE A D---YANKEE IF:

1. You think you live in a free country.

2. You truly believe that Abe Lincoln freed anyone, anywhere.

3. You think it was “for the best” that the North won the War for Southern Independence.

4. You consider the citizens of the Confederacy to have been traitors to the US.

5. You see nothing at all wrong with the Union Army attacking the South and the Union Navy blockading Southern ports.

6. You think you have a right to tell Southerners how to live, and if they don’t agree, to force them.

7. You think it’s funny to depict Southerners as ignorant, slack-jawed, buck-toothed, inbred, violent, backwoods, beer-swilling, potbellied rednecks who just need to lighten-up and learn how to laugh at themselves.

8. You cannot fathom why Southerners would not want to keep company with you.

9. There’s some part of the statement, “Leave us the h--- alone!” that you just can’t grasp.

10. You think our struggle for independence from you people is over.

Borrowed stuff

Here is something I found on The Southern American website's forum. I'm sure this was meant as a joke, but hey, it's the true things that are the funniest...although this illegal alien problem is no laughing matter!



"Dear President Bush:

I'm about to plan a little trip with my family and extended family, and I would like to ask you to assist me. I'm going to walk across the border from the U.S. into Mexico, and I need to make a few arrangements. I know you can help with this.

I plan to skip all the legal stuff like visas, passports, immigration quotas and laws. I'm sure they handle those things the same way you do here.

So, would you mind telling your buddy, President Vicente Fox, that I'm on my way over? Please let him know that I will be expecting the following:

1. Free medical care for my entire family.

2. English-speaking government bureaucrats for all services I might need, whether I use them or not.

3. All government forms need to be printed in English.

4. I want my kids to be taught by English-speaking teachers.

5. Schools need to include classes on American culture and history.

6. I want my kids to see the American flag flying on the top of the flag pole at their school with the Mexican flag flying lower down.

7. Please plan to feed my kids at school for both breakfast and lunch.

8. I will need a local Mexican driver's license so I can get easy access to government services.

9. I do not plan to have any car insurance, and I won't make any effort to learn local traffic laws.

10. In case one of the Mexican police officers does not get the memo from Pres. Fox to leave me alone, please be sure that all police officers speak English.

11. I plan to fly the U.S. flag from my house top, put flag decals on my car, and have a gigantic celebration on July 4th. I do not want any complaints or negative comments from the locals.

12. I would also like to have a nice job without paying any taxes, and don’t enforce any labor laws or tax laws.

13. Please tell all the people in the country to be extremely nice and never say a critical word about me, or about the strain I might place on the economy.

I know this is an easy request because you already do all these things for all the people who come to the U.S. from Mexico. I am sure that Pres. Fox won't mind returning the favor if you ask him nicely.

However, if he gives you any trouble, just invite him to go quail hunting with your V.P.

Thank you so much for your kind help.

Sincerely,"