The Drunken Ramblings of a Southern Ex-Pat

Last week and really every week, my friend Eddie and I drove drunk straight into a conversation over our home state of Virginia and in particular our hometown of Richmond. When we get together and get some Fightin’ Drunk in us, there is no end to the catcalls and bile we plague Richmond with. (It’s also about the only time yer gonna hear our accents).

However, we were feeling a bit generous to and defensive of our hometown last week. We started commiserating about the occasions when assholes from elsewhere in the South pull that “That ain’t the South” crap in regards to our Richmond heritage. We have each had experiences – numerous experiences – with complete strangers who will inform us that where they come from is the “Real South” -- And implying that where we’re from is just some sort of watered-down, diet-version of the Real Thing. (This may shock our cousins to the North and West, but the civil war didn’t die, it just started feeding on itself.)

Now, I will be the first to admit that one thing “real” Southerners don’t do is high-tale it for New York City – I’m sorry, Jew York City – the first opportunity they get. From Day One parents, schools and church drill into you the Fact that the Mason-Dixon Line was put there -- by God -- for a reason: And that reason was to keep the South’s Sons and Daughters from getting mixed up in that jew faggot crap they got up North – nuthin’ against ‘em personally, a-course. And HJ failed that Principle miserably the day after he graduated college.

But you are Where You’re Born. And as a card carrying member, whether the rest of the Brethren like that fact or not, HJ is going to repeat his drunken, rambling screed from a week ago on this topic. Because he feels it would be a shame if every non-Virginian Southerner died not knowing that their shit don’t smell like fried chicken and watermelon neither. It’s less a speech and more a verbal hate-fuck, repeated here as best I can remember. I hope you enjoy it, and if you’re from the South, I hope it pisses you off. And I hope the reason it pisses you off is that, secretly, you know what I’m saying is true.
Alabama, you are FUCKING RETARDED. ABSOLUTELY ONE HUNDRED PERCENT IN-BRED FUCKING RETARDED!! And Mississippi? I wouldn't be so quick to laugh -- because yer best friend in the whole wide world is a retard. North Carolina, you are the uppitiest motherfuckers in the South, You love anyone who thinks you're great, And you might have the savvy to wait and marry the second girl who screws you. Georgia, sorry to burst your bubble, but everyone knows you’re New Money. West Virginia, Kentucky, and Maryland, When a fight is about to go down – even when it is absolutely 100% fucking clear that your friend is the asshole who started it -- you still back him up. The rest of us learned that in the schoolyard by the time we were 8. Where the fuck were you? Arkansas and South Carolina, you honestly don’t care how fucking stupid you get. And what gets me is you know you’re dumb -- not like Alabama -- and you're proud of it and don’t care who knows. It’s like you’re doing it for spite because you know you’re different and you relish that fact. You are so like the French in that way it’s scary. (hat tip to Eddie for that last one.) Texas, you bring new meaning to the word “overcompensate”. (And it’s going to just kill you that your entry isn’t five times as long as everybody else’s.) And Louisiana, I wish to God just once you acted like you were paying attention: It's like you've got your head in a bucket of shrimp. I feel like the rest of us are talking to a wall when you’re in the room. I mean, you act like you get the whole Southern thing, but sometimes I wonder …. Let’s see, who am I leaving out, Oh, right, Oklahoma and Tennessee (how could I possibly forget those two corner stones of the South): Oklahoma, you need to admit your man-crush on Texas and Tennessee, you’re the one state I feel sorry for. You’re like the magazine hand-model of the South. You’ve got that famous one-two punch that everyone knows -- Nashville and Memphis -- and that everyone is surprised to learn is in Tennessee. Nashville is Nashville and Memphis is Memphis and the rest of Tennessee – well, it’s like you purchased 50,000 acres when 40 would do.

Today’s lesson: Oh, and Florida? Unlike West Virginia, Kentucky and Maryland, you never were a member. (Oh, and Missouri? If we’re interested, we’ll call.)

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