Friday, December 31, 2010

Redneck Rides

Hey hey, citizens of the United Sites of Internet. It’s a fabulous Friday evening, the last one of 2010, and I’m ready to usher in a new era of redneckedness. Speaking of redneckedness, let’s talk about REDNECK RIDES!

It’s true what they say: everything’s bigger in Texas, especially our… vehicles. Your average Texan likes their ride oversized and overheard. Whereas them rich folk of the blue states show off their Lexuses and Priuses, us backwoodsmen know the truth: the Japs are trying to take over the world and we shouldn’t buy their automobiles. We stick to our 100% pure all-American gas-guzzlers. Just as long as that gas that’s guzzled comes from the Muslims and we’re not drilling for black gold in the homeland. Not in my back yard!

So let’s review the standard hickmobile, by type. First and foremost, there’s the classic “Pick Em’ Up Truck”. The “Pick ‘Em Up Truck” is an American-made, Mexican-assembled slice of beefcake. These bad boys consist of four to six larger than life tires, and a body adorned with one or more of the following: bars on the front for road kill, bars on the back windshield that serve no purpose, a sticker with a young man urinating on a foreign deity, and/or a plastic scrotum attached to the towing hitch. Yes, this is a high-class vehicle, for high-class people, like those who work in the service industry. Or, more frequently, butch lesbians and men with small penises. Because everyone knows that women love loud noises and dirt.

And then, there’s the more common staple of the hick household: the “Subcursiongatorladerango”. The “Subcursiongatorladerango”, also known as a full-size SUV, is the IT vehicle for suburban moms to haul their little bastards from school to football practice, powerlifting meets, and bull riding competitons. It seats up to 19, requires a special kind of license, and hauls RVs like nobody’s business. Purchasing a “Subcursiongatorladerango” is a big decision to make, considering it gets 1/8 of the gas mileage of a real car. But, it’s a necessary sacrifice for every family, because they all have more than 8 children. One never knows when they might need two extra rows of seats and a trailer hitch, in case they decide to take a baseball team camping.

Then, there’s one last category of vehicles, called “Chick Cars”. These include, but are not limited to, all vehicles with less than four doors, all vehicles with less than seven seats, vehicles that are not white or silver, and vehicles that were designed in Japan, Korea, or Europe. If you have the misfortune of driving one of these fag wagons, you had better be a woman. Men who drive foreign cars are, of course, weak, lame, and homosexual. Nothing else to it.

So if you’re in Texas and you can afford to put gas in your car, you obviously suck. Buy a truck. And that’s the way we get down…

In A Hick Town.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

We Wish You a Texas Christmas

Well, readers, it's that time of the year again. Yes, it's Christmas in Dixie, the time when people overdose on carbohydrates and soccer moms get hammered on eggnog. Oh yeah, and Jesus was born. Now, I've never Christmas'ed north of the Mason-Dixon, so I don't know how the holidays go down up there. But there's something to be said for a Lone Star holiday season.

Unlike in the North, where the God-haters are trying to take the "Christ" out of "Christmas", there is nothing secular about a redneck holiday. It is not unusual to see an inflatable nativity right there on the lawn between the petunias and the wire reindeer, if there are reindeer at all. And any good conservative would NEVER in their right mind shorten "Christmas" to "XMas". What would the neighbors think if they knew that the decor boxes were labeled "XMas"? And then there's the jolly man in the red suit. I remember a Sunday school lesson from back in the day, in which the teacher informed a group of horrified third graders that St. Nick was not real, and if you rearranged the letters in "Santa", it spells "Satan". They don't joke around about their Jesus.

But if there's a holiday tradition more sacred than the green bean casserole, it's gift-getting. Even the most conservative conservative is not likely to give up a hokey present exchange, white elephant gifts, or Secret Santa, for their Little Lord Jesus principles. Therefore, it can get pretty intense around the 23rd (which is also Festivus, by the way) and Black Friday. People are classy enough to fight over the last Wii console or TMX Elmo. After all, they have to get their children everything they need for Christmas, including life lessons on how to behave in public.

Christmas meals in the red states are exactly like holiday meals elsewhere, just fried. Fried turkey, fried chicken, fried okra, fried sweet potatoes, fried cranberry sauce (okay, maybe not that last one), it's all here and artery-clogging. The process goes as follows: several hours of preparation, followed by one very long prayer to commence the face-stuffing. Then, you eat until you can't eat any more, leave the table for 30 minutes to an hour of television, and then return to the table once you feel like your gastrointestinal system can sustain it. After all that tryptophan, it's important to get some rest to let the meal settle on your thighs. Then once everyone finishes their siesta, it's time to convene again and bitch about how much you've eaten. It's a sacred ritual.

All in all, there's a lot to complain about when it comes to Southern Christmases. But I must admit, no one gets in the holiday spirit quite like them, good or bad. And that's the way we get down...

In A Hick Town.

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