Rednecks

Having reached, and passed my anniversary of 2 weeks incarcerated in the Grand ol' US of A, I find myself imbued with a sense of omnipotency (and a sizeable portion of a hops-based beverage from a brewery in Milwaukee) and as a result, will attempt to put forth my thoughts on that magnificently decadent tradition unique to the Union - namely, that of Rednecks.

Some of you may consider 2 weeks to be too short a time to spend immersed in a culture before assuming the mantle of expert commentator. I would concur, however, I feel that this particular topic is of such simplicity that to spend even more time assessing it would be excessive.

So, what makes a redneck? I'm sure we've all seen the stereotypical redneck - one home that's mobile and ten cars that aren't, six dogs chasing fleas on the front verandah, married to someone he's known since childhood - mainly because she's his sister - you get the idea. But I think a redneck is more than just driving a ute and rooting blood relatives. Hell, if we made that the criteria, we'd have to classify Rockhampton, Samford, Dalby, the Northern Territory and all of Tasmania as rednecks, and we know that's just not true. No, I think a redneck is more of an attitude thing than anything else. Perhaps the best definition was provided by Jeff Foxworthy, the expert on all things redneck, who defined redneck as "A complete absence of class."

This, I think, is what we're looking for. Anyone can have an old wrecked car they keep on their property. Ken Wilson, a computer engineer who'll be earning six figures in a few year's time met this criteria - he drives an imported Citroen, and kept a spare one for parts. This makes perfect sense, and I certainly wouldn't call this Sydneysider toff a redneck. As I said, anyone can have an old wrecked car. But it takes a true redneck to pile ten wrecked cars up on his front lawn, as well as all the tyres from said wrecked cars. Like so.



That takes dedication. That takes effort. Most importantly, it demonstrates that said tyre stacker doesn't give a hoot in hell for what the neighbours think of him, which denotes a true redneck. Anyone who was worried about what society's morals were certainly wouldn't have married his cousin.

The absence of class can be seen in any true redneck. It can be seen whenever you see a pregnant woman alternating between a cigarette and a bottle of budweiser. It can be seen whenever a bloke wearing a Nascar cap makes his wife ride in the back of the truck while his dog gets the front seat. It can definitely be seen when you see a woman wearing a bra with straps under a strapless dress. (Yes, I did witness this in Tullahoma, TN!)

Personally, I think redneckism (is that a word?) is a marvellous thing. Because no matter what we've done in our life, whether it's burn a bible while wearing a preacher's cloth, call someone hairy to their face, lie in our own vomit and filth...

....Hmm.

I was going to imply something along the lines of "no matter what you do, you can always look at a redneck and feel better" but I realise I've done some pretty bad stuff in my time as well. No matter. This can benefit the rest of you - with the possible exception of Morrobin, who is Labor scum and who is finished. The best way to look at rednecks is as a social conscience. Just so long as you're not worse than Billy Bob Johnson next door, you're doing ok.

Anyways, after travelling through the grand states of Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama and Georgia - I can safely say that redneckery in the US of A cannot possibly be understated. They are everywhere. Just as you're driving through a forest, commenting on how green and beautiful the countryside is, you'll encounter a sign like this.


And, just like that, you've entered the domain of the redneck. Isn't it marvellous?