Rednecks with a capital “R.” It’s the perfect solution. A way out of the PC nonsense and a lesson to boot.
Not without precedent. Here’s an actual Washington helmet from the past:
Yup. It was and could be again.
Oh. The feathers. They have to be replaced. Easy. Redneck war dress includes something called headers.
How a Roadrunner scalps a Goat.
Oops. Did I say something incorrect? Ah, forget it. That’s something we can move beyond with the new name. Redneck is a pejorative term far more commonly used these days than Redskin. The latter is, if offensive to some, quaint, the memory of a hard-on nobody has anymore. The former is a contemporary raging hard-on of a whole generation of spoiled twits who live in high rises and gated communities and sneer at the ones who don’t. Meaning the ones who do all the real work, like, say, building their high rises and gated communities, and the roads they drive their Bimmers on, and the electrical and electronic grids they simply couldn’t live without. And, aw, they didn’t go to college, which means they don’t know all the crap that just ain’t so which “informs” the cognoscenti who dismiss them as a worthless, faceless herd of fools.
You see, Redneck is not a racial term, except perhaps to the Yuppies who stereotype them all as white trash. In reality, there are rednecks of every ethnic and geographic origin. They do a lot of stuff outdoors. They shoot guns, they hunt, they bowl, they have pig roasts on the Fourth of July, they go to church or they make excuses for not going to church, they usually didn’t arrive here on the Mayflower but on the run or in chains, their wives and girlfriends show off their figures and dance to sexy songs played by jukeboxes, they live everywhere in the country, including New York City, where they insist on liking Elvis and Aretha more than Bach or The Beatles, and all the suited ones just know they are the stupid cattle it is their mission to rule and confine to their seedy trailer parks.
Fair enough. Except that Rednecks don’t care what you think of them. Unlike every other group whose sensitivities liberals spend so much time protecting, Rednecks are an active target no one even tries to protect. Why is that? Partly because liberal tolerance doesn’t extend to those they can’t exploit as useful victims. And partly because Rednecks actually revel in liberal disdain.
That’s gotta hurt. Everybody else has a rights group, a defense group, an attack group, a litigious little army of resentful paranoids. Rednecks have a BRAND.
And they love it. Think that’s an overstatement? They’re not as dumb as you suppose. They know they’re the only acceptable target of vicious bias based on stereotypes left in our politically correct banana republic. And more than that, they know your contempt for them is tantamount to the minstrelsy tropes you make up inferentially in the ordinary speech of your political opponents. They’re happy to play this role. They. Expose. Your. Absolute intolerance.
We’ll still be here when you’re escaping to Switzerland.
Some Brit said no man is a hero to his valet. Think about that. You write regulations for an agency in DC. Pretty important, huh? Some Redneck unstops your toilet when your shit clogs the pipes. Maybe way more important, huh?
Could be the real reason liberals hate Rednecks so virulently and openly is that they refuse to be victims and aren’t buying your phony, superior act.
And they know that some part of you secretly envies them.
They don’t make these at Bryn Mawr.
Talk about reparations… DC power players have plenty to make up for with the hardworking people they’ve scorned as trash while they do almost nothing worthwhile. Here’s a solid first step.
And because I can’t not do this, Redneck Opera. Or do you prefer Redquiem? Or maybe Redneck Aria… Unless you want downright Redneck Tragedy our president would only laugh at, which this is, truthfully, awfully, and left as a lifelong burden to the lady who wanted something in red. She got it. No. Not kidding. You could look it up. Rednecks routinely experience emotions ten times the intensity of the drab who sneaks smokes out of sight of his wife in the White House.
Won’t do what I could — Cher, Madonna, Lady Gaga, and Mylie. The braindead empties of a lost generation.
Me? I’ll stick with the Rednecks.
