A Redneck Is A Redneck Is A Redneck

I had to laugh; my snooty friends in DC would never recognize me now. Here I was in the Super Walmart in Cherryville, North Carolina wearing dirty cargo shorts, standard wife beater (complete with pit stains) and worn out flip-flops looking for all the world like any other redneck with greasy hair you’d see buying Budweiser on his way home from work. Little did these people know that the redneck standing beside them in line was a Southern ex-pat, prodigal son, champion cock-sucker, blogger from hell, AIDS queen, librarian, burnt out go-go boy, former male prostitute and wanna-be writer. I remembered those last days in DC and feeling such a sense of doom about my impending move to North Carolina that I could barely speak about it to my friends. I had been born and raised there; I knew what I was in for. Rural, small town life in the old South has a way of extinguishing all dreams and hope for a gay boy. Well, in my next of the woods, anyhow.

When I rolled into town that day in my rented SUV the size of a city block, it was almost as if there was a small 5x7 sign tacked underneath the Rotary Club’s Welcome To Lincolnton,North Carolina sign that read: Abandon All Hope,Queers. I remember the “Oh Shit” feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling of going back in time 20 years and wondering how long it would take this town to sink it’s claws into me. In a small Southern town like this, it’s almost as if there’s a gas… a lethargy leaking from all storm drains that brings an intense numbing hopelessness and complacency where you can’t think further than your paycheck and circumstances will allow.

Heard about town:

“Tuesday is senior citizen day at the Goodwill. Better get there early before all the Mexicans grab up the good stuff! You know what money they don't wire back home to their relatives living in mud huts, they spend at the Aldi or the Goody-Good store.”

“Did you see Friday’s front page? Giant Mud Hole Causes Problem. No, I’m not kidding, Mary Jo!”

“The insurance company is giving us a check for $800.00 to get those dents knocked out. Shit, I’m thinking I don’t mind a few dents in the car, it’d get ‘em anyhow sitting in the parking lot of the Bi-Lo. Let’s just keep the check and go to Myrtle Beach on that money, honey. We’ll even go see that show with the Dolly Parton impersonator in it.”

“You know, that trailer painted swimming pool blue on Old Plank Road? Burnt plumb down to the ground last night! Yep, a meth lab… what else? Some Yankees, I think...”

“Mary Jo, look at Monday’s front page, Lincolnton Is Chlamydia Capitol Of North Carolina. Back in my day, girls washed their cooter after they had relations…”

“I’m going up to the Winn-Dixie to get some of that ground chuck they got on sell, Bessie Mae’s makin’ her chili again.”

“I heard the Walmarts hiring. Go apply. Don’t worry about your prison record, they’ll hire anybody!”

“That Hester girl with the high-yellow baby came to church Sunday. I made it a point to go over to her after preaching and ask her and little Cha'relle to be sure and come back. Lord, I know that Hester girl's poor mama must be spinning in her grave !”

“I know you want to go to community college, Amber Lynn! You tell me every fuckin’ day! Nobody told you to get knocked up by that Goddamn Puerto Rican boy. You know how they are! They just want that hole between your legs. God, Amber Lynn, how can you be so stupid? I should have known something was up when you came home every night smelling like garlic ! You have to get a job ‘cause-by-God, I ain’t supporting no foreign baby! I'll take you by the Walmart in the morning to fill out an application.”

I knew that sooner or later the fumes would get me.  I’m starting to eye this vacant doublewide on Aspen Street and dreaming of cookouts with rednecks and people that date outside their race. Who knows, I may even start listening to country music and going to chili cook-offs. Maybe I’ll find myself a Puerto Rican fuck buddy and get a job at Walmart in the garden center. No... wait, I could be the guy that stands at the gun counter and sells weapons to rednecks. Oh the possibilities, the possibilities…

I hope all you guys out there in blogland are having a good, cool Summer 'cause it's hotter than hell here. Let's put it like this, it's so hot I can't use product in my hair because by noon it's melted, running down my forehead and getting in my eyes. That shit burns !

Ya'll be good and think of me on your vacation.