Thursday, March 29, 2007

What I Don't Understand About the Hillbilly

The hillbilly is a perplexing entity, to say the least. Foreign. Weird.
Here are some of the things I just don't get:

  • Why do hillbillies extol the virtues of fast cars when their cars are rusting and stuck on blocks in their front yard?
  • Why is that the fatter hillbilly women are, the less clothes they wear?
  • Why do hillbillies have multiple dogs and cats... and mistreat all of them?
  • Why do hillbillies have tractors and pretend to be farmers... and they can't only seem to grow weeds?
  • Why do hillbillies own pickup trucks... and can't tote the garbage from their porch to a dump?

Indeed, the hillbilly is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, encased in camouflage.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Is The Hillbilly Devolving?

If you stop by any natural history museum, you will notice that our (we, normal people) ancestors--Cro Magnon, Australopithecus, and even the unrelated Neanderthal--resemble the hillbilly.
Both are hunched, hairy, and barely intelligent. (This surely described the hillbilly women.) All that is missing is the bib overalls and stained t-shirt.
Why is this?
Decades of government subsidies and dependence is rapidly devolving the creature known as the hillbilly into pre-modern man.
And now, my friend, who was among the town hillbilly (Hillbillius Suburbus) reports the second phase of the hillbilly's devolution is now underway.
He reported to me that he saw two grossly overweight hillbillies on scooters ... racing along a busy highway, on their way to WalMart. The government, in all its wisdom, is providing people who are obese with the very thing they do not need, a means to be even lazier.
These hillbillies aren't handicapped... they're fat! They don't need suburban ATVs, they need to get off their ass and walk. Lose a few pounds. Move.
Eventually, the hillbilly will be a mass of fat jiggling in front of a television. They'll be tube fed a mash of Twinkies and malt liquor.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

More Hillbillies in the News

Don't think that all hillbillies are doddering, slobbering, half-brain dead fools; some of them are murderous sodomites... and doddering, slobbering, half-brain dead fools.
Consider the case of the boy in Georgia, who was allegedly killed by a family of his hillbilly neighbors. The son who has just been indicted in this crime is a convicted a child molester. The parents were probably molesters... they just never got caught.
You can read it here.
Here's the charming hillbilly family (from the sheriff department's files):

Apparently, this bunch lived right next to a bus stop. Some do-gooder had a rule that required convicted child molesters live at least 1,000 feet from a bus stop tied up in court. Maybe this person and their lawyers should spend some time in a cell with this Hillbilly Addams family.
There is some good news: it looks as though they're going for the death sentence.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

An Uncivil Union

I am a supporter of Prop 186, which would ban ALL hillbilly marriages and civil unions.
Allowing hillbillies to marry is an abomination to the sanctity of the marriage vows and threatens to legitimize the status of hillbillies in our culture.
In fact, hillbillies do not marry to express love for one another; nor, do they marry to establish a familial unit.
As the following photographic evidence indicates, hillbillies marry to look like idiots and to create yet another excuse to drink and fight (as if four-day binges for Arbor Day and President's Day are not excuse enough).





(Note the dog is the most intelligent, attractive creature in the following photo.)






(This is a hoity-toity hillbilly affair. Notice the groom and cousin of the bride is not bare foot and is, instead, wearing flip-flops, or "rubber treads," as the hillbilly calls them.


(Finally, the hillbilly "theme" wedding, which is usually a reference to the hillbilly's inclination to wanton destruction.)






Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Hillbilly Haiku

Ah. More hillbilly hate.
Here's the definition of Hillbilly Haiku by a perceptive user of the Urban Dictionary:

hillbilly haiku

A poem, spoken by hillbillies, that *sounds* something like haiku but doesn't scan like it. A hillbilly haiku doesn't fit the 5-7-5 syllable scheme, or even have three lines, because hillbillies can't count.

This is a fun writing exercise.
Here are a couple of my own Hillbilly Haikus:

didja git yer buck
didja didja?
ma rack's bigger


At car's too quiet
Silence. Unrattled
What I need a muffler fer

Childrens cryin
Nothing to eat
Why they so fat, though?

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Old as the Hillbillies

I went shopping in hillbilly land today.... scary stuff.
The hillbilly was out in all his and her ragged glory.
One observation: the hillbilly does not age gracefully. It seems hillbillies age rather like you and me until about age 14; then, they turn 92. For the female hillbilly, the transformation is quite dramatic--wrinkles appear like a relief map on their face, their hair gets stringy and greasy, and their bodies well up like parade balloons.
When an old hillbilly woman appears, normal children scatter in front of her.
Perhaps this ability to scare children is abhorrent to the Hillbilly male; a full 68 percent of hillbilly males decide to look like Santa Claus as the age. They let their hair and food-embedded beards turn white (although the premature grey could come from looking at their women all the time). Then, they add bib overalls and a camouflage baseball cap to the ensemble to complete the hillbilly Santa Claus look.
The old hillbilly man seems to relish this Santa status and the approving smiles he gets from normal folks. It's as if, for one time in his life, he has received some shred of acceptance from society at large.
I am not sure whether we as a society should embrace this transformation. The Santa billy does seem more mellow than other hillbillies; but, until we can get evidence that the Santa billy showers regularly and is off government assistance, it's still important for parents to train their children to know and despise the hillbilly in all his and her manifestations.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Why the Irish Hate Hillbillies

St. Patty's day is a great day to celebrate the Irish.
And hate the hillbilly.
Why, you ask?
According to Wikipedia (which is pretty accurate as long as it isn't predicting the deaths of comedians), the term "hillbilly" is derived from a group of Scottish hill people who helped King William III invade Ireland. They were "billy's boys."
Hence the name: Hill... Billy.
Since Ireland is still green and not a huge mud pit, it can be assured that the hillbillies must not have been invited to stay long.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Hillbilly Feng Shui

According to this contributor to the urban dictionary, Hillbilly Feng Shui is defined as:
"The process of when two (or more) yard jalopies are moved and rearranged so that a new yard jalopy can be added to the space and no extra space is needed. Thus making a more efficient yet messier area."
The hillbilly, or land pig as he is sometimes called, uses his feng shui to counter positive vibes, thereby, upsetting harmony and diminishing beauty. Hillbilly feng shui appeases the four humours of Hillbilly mythology--mud, stench, smoke, and alcohol.
The hillbilly will never place his junkers in a garage or even in his back yard, this would transform disgust, an emotion that he wallows in like the hog of the land that he is.
Many times you pass by the hillbilly's lawn, you remark, "Why does anyone need three junked refrigerators, a box of hubcaps, rusted railroad parts, and a plastic statue of Tweetie in their lawn?" In Hillbilly Feng Shui, lawn junk is accumulated to block the flow of serenity and to inspire frustration and anxiety.
The hillbilly's shack can face north, south, east, or west; but, if you notice, they tend to lean. This negates any balance in his environment.
Such is the way of the Hillbilly. The Tao of inbreds. The Path of the Boob.
(Below is a dramatic example of Hillbilly Feng Shui in action.)

Before Hillbilly Feng Shui...



After Hillbilly Feng Shui:



Sand-Dune-Billies?


Can you say "consanguinity"?
That's right, boys and girls! I knew that you could!
Consanguinity means that mommies and daddies are related... closely related.
Now, since the dawn of man, hillbillies have been known for their consanguinity. It's been said that the only hillbilly virgin is the girl who can outrun her brothers.
According to a recent study, over the years, consanguinity has become less and less prevalent among the Appalachian hill folk. Why you ask?
Perhaps their females became swifter... Perhaps their brothers and cousins became slower...
More than likely, however, the lure of government checks brought the government-subsidized hillbilly into the lush breeding ground of Welfare Street USA where the genetic gene pool is at least wide, if not deep.
The Right Reason blog indicates there's a new Appalachia. Let's call it Arabachia.
Consanguinity appears to be on the rise in Arab States. You can check out the map here.
Could it be that terrorists are nothing more than inbred, Koran-totin', scarf-wearin' hillbillies from the dunes?
There are some astonishing similarities:
Terrorists blow up buses and planes. Hillbillies stink up buses and planes.
Terrorists wantonly destroy and maim. Same with the hillbilly!
Terrorists are often backed by rogue states and need no employment. The hillbilly is backed by rogue welfare states and needs no employment.
Finally, terrorists and hillbillies both seek the love of their farm animals when consanguinity doesn't work out.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Setting the Record Straight

I often share the many, many stories of hillbilly hi jinx with my friends.
Recently, after telling a story, my friend said, "What... is the guy retarded or something?"

I was a little taken aback. Special needs kids get a lot of grief in life, do they really deserve to be lumped in with the hillbilly? It's unfair and mean.
In fact, when retarded kids make fun of people they call them "hillbillies."
The difference between the hillbilly and the special needs kid is vast.
Here are just a couple of examples:
Many special needs kids are gainfully employed... The Hillbilly? Not so much.
The special needs kids will engage in sports and recreational activities. Since pretending you're a NASCAR racer by driving your beat-up car through town and boxing your girlfriend around are not technically "sports," the hillbilly avoids exercise. (Note: There is no such thing as the Hillbilly Olympics.)
Special needs kids show some degree of responsibility. The hillbilly is paid by the government to be irresponsible.
Special needs kids are aware of hygiene issues. The hillbilly believes hygiene is a greeting for a dude named Gene.
Finally, special needs kids warrant our help and pity.
The hillbilly? Not so much.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Springtime in Hillbillyland


Well. It's almost springtime and the hillbillies are stirring.
For the government subsidized hillbilly, who has spent most of the cold winter cooped inside his Section-8 shacks fornicating and getting drunk (not necessarily in that order), this is a great time to be alive.
If you had a beautiful spring day off, I'm sure you would find a hobby or indulge your current hobbies; not so, for the hillbilly, who has all day, every day off.
No, the hillbilly just can't seem to make it off the porch. It is as if an invisible force field of laziness has restrained the hillbilly to his porch or stoop, like a leash on a dog. This is one reason why the hillbilly's porch is so cluttered. They really wanted to throw those broken toys away... they just couldn't... seem... to... make... it... off... the... porch.
You'll see the early hillbilly riser on his stoop when you go to work. His mind feverishly at working at solving the great mystery of the day--how to buy a pack of cigarettes without expending any energy.
When you come home from work, the hillbillies are out in full force, the only thing missing is the poor special needs banjo boy from Deliverance. (He wouldn't even be seen with government subsidized hillbillies.)
Just think, you probably spent an hour a day working so that these hillbillies could enjoy this carefree lifestyle.
I think every hillbilly should be forced to stretch a banner across the front of his or her porch that reads, "Thank you, American worker."
Although, it would probably take no time for the hillbilly to hide the banner behind broken bicycle parts, ash trays, tattered Halloween decorations, and a film of tobacco spit.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Am I a Hillbilly?

Many of you are asking... am I a hillbilly... or just a redneck?
As the name suggests, rednecks are workers, getting "red" while working in the sun. As such, they contribute to society and I really don't have a problem with those folks.
But, just in case you need a better definition of what a hillbillies are, here are a few ways to tell if you're a hillbilly:
If you label your second cousins as "exotic women"... you may be a hillbilly.
If you have at least one junked car in your front lawn and there's a moving truck in front of your neighbor's yard... you may be a hillbilly.
If your daughter's name is spelled incorrectly and was inspired by a stripper... you may be a hillbilly.
If your son's name is spelled incorrectly and was inspired by a championship wrestler... you may be hillbilly.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Let's Invest in Jethro



Arguably no show has raised the awareness on the hillbilly as the show, the Beverly Hillbillies, a sitcom about a hillbilly family who got lucky and promptly left town to drive down property values elsewhere.
Some critics of the show say that it just helped the hillbilly cause by portraying them as sober, skinny, and somewhat industrious. Hey. It was just a sitcom. And, it was developed before the time of the government-subsidized hillbilly.
Though I now find myself agreeing with Mrs. Drysdale more and more, I harbor no resentment of the show.
And now, Jethro needs our help.
Jethro, portrayed by Max Baer, Jr., wants to start a casino called, Jethro's Beverly Hillbillies Mansion and Casino.
He would like to build the casino, appropriately enough, on the site of an abandoned WalMart in Carson City, Nevada. The site would include attractions such as Drysdale's Fancy Eatin's, Elly May's Buns, and of course, the Cement Pond.
This is a moneymaker and I could see a whole line of other attractions and products: They could sell t-shirts that already have beer and coffee stains. How about a roller coaster called The Meth Monster, representing the extreme highs and lows of meth addiction? Or, a slot machine that pays out $2 for ever $1 it takes in... we can call it, the One-Armed American Taxpayer.
I believe that every hillbilly should get behind this venture, maybe pass along a couple SSI checks to the project. Hillbillies already accustomed to government largess don't need to invest for retirement. And, after all, they think that a 401 K is a type of pickup truck and an IRA is a how they start the sentence... "I r a hillbilly."

Thursday, March 8, 2007

A Letter from a Hillbilly to Dilbert Creator

The following is a letter to Dilber creator, Scott Adams, from a college professor about Mr. Adams treatment of drunken hillbillies.
I offer my insights in italics.


Inebriated Hillbillies are not Funny

In a recent Dilbert strip I featured an inebriated hillbilly. Dogbert kicked him off a log and into a ravine. I know you’re thinking “That’s just like my job.” But you’re wrong because people don’t write you letters telling you that you are insensitive. Here’s a link to the comic, and below it is a letter objecting to my depiction of hillbillies.
http://dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20060218.html
And the letter…

Dear Mr. Adams,
I am writing in regards to the “Dilbert” cartoon that was published in the Gazette-Mail in Charleston, West Virginia on Saturday, February 18th.
I have long enjoyed your cartoon strip, having spent eight years at Marshall University confined to a tiny cubicle (even though I was a full professor) and having to track the amount of paper I used due to budget constraints.

Notice how the professor starts out explaining that the college has restricted her use of paper. Since defending the hillbilly is a waste of paper, I applaud the financial acumen of Marshall, but, question their hiring practices. And, come on... like you'd give someone who's studying the hillbilly an office... you'd give them the academic equivalent of a shack. Nicely done.

I am currently the co-director of the Center for the Study of Ethnicity and Gender in Appalachia and teach in the Appalachian Studies graduate certificate program at Marshall’s graduate college. One of my interests is the ways in which stereotypes of Appalachians in the general culture have rationalized and justified the historic mistreatment of Appalachians as an ethnic group.

First, hillbillies don't belong to Appalachia any more; they belong to the world, thanks to poor breeding, increased government subsidization, and a resurgence of interest in the Dukes of Hazzard. Their historic mistreatment comes less from urgings of comic strips than from their historic role as social pariahs.

Your cartoon “killed” an inebriated hillbilly. He was lying on a log with a jug at his side (probably moonshine?) and wearing bib overalls. He was booted off the log into a chasm and a certain fate. Now, let me ask you a question. Would you have drawn that cartoon of a drunk Irishman, a Jew, a black person, an Hispanic person? I doubt it very much.

I would agree with this statement. It is an unfair treatment of modern hillbillies. Modern hillbillies are more apt to be snorting meth than drinking moonshine. Shame on you, Mr. Adams. It is interesting to note that the professor took one look at a fat, passed-out schmuck and immediately went... "It's a hillbilly!"

Most Americans are by now sensitized to the damage that such stereotypes represent for minority groups. And yet you, as well as many others, still feel free to picture hillbillies (translate: Appalachians) in this way.

Again, Mr. Adams portrayal of a hillbilly is universal, not meant to offend one geographic area.


I would like to urge you to look at the most recent issue of the National Geographic. There is an article there on mountaintop removal and the ecological, cultural and social damage that it is visiting upon the mountains and their people. I would argue that most Americans have ignored this disaster-in-the-making for so long because there is a general agreement that hillbillies are of less worth—“useless” human beings. Your cartoon confirms that sense.

Useless is not the proper term. It suggests that the hillbilly has a neutral effect on society. A more accurate term would be "detrimental"--which defines the negative impact the hillbilly has on society. As for mountaintop removal, I am against anything that may cause the hillbilly to migrate into my neighborhood.

I would be the first to acknowledge that some Appalachians are alcoholics and wear bib overalls. But I suspect that there are many other people in this country that would fit that description as well.

Yes, they are hillbillies, too.

We are a proud people--closely tied to our land—who have given this country music, literature, and social movements that raised the standard of living for all of us. Why is it that television and the print media are so focused on only our social problems? Or see us only negatively?
I appreciate your taking my comments under consideration. This is not meant as a personal attack, but hopefully will be educational for you. I would be glad to recommend a reading list for you or email you some material.

It's not always the media that's to blame for this negativity. It's the fact that while maybe some hillbillies are tied to the land, probably tied there by their drunken husbands; others insist on interacting with us. If you really want to help the Hillbilly, go back to your hills, get them off welfare, give them a shower, and teach them some manners.

Sincerely,Lynda Ann Ewen, PhDProfessor Emerita of Sociology, Marshall University
Co-Director, Center for the Study of Ethnicity and Gender in Appalachia
Editor, Series of “Ethnicity and Gender in Appalachia,” Ohio University Press

Here's Yer Cup... Urine Testing Government Subsidized Hillbillies

A recent Omninerd post got me thinking...
Not that I'd relish any of our fine health care workers who have to hold the piss cup for a bunch of hillbillies, but why shouldn't we drug and alcohol people who are on welfare or who live in public housing?
In the past year, I personally heard of at least four ODs in nearby public housing projects. And, a law enforcement official that I talked to estimated 70 to 80 percent of the calls he responds to in these projects are drug and alcohol related.
It's also obvious to me, at least, that public housing has become an underground railroad of sorts for the drug trade.
Add a few murder-suicides and I think we can officially say we have a problem, Whitney Huston.
I see a role for Welfare in society, don't get me wrong: it's for those who are physically or mentally challenged, the elderly, and the sick and infirm. If welfare recipients are buying drugs and alcohol, they are stealing from these folks. Strike one.
Remember, this is all about welfare, i.e. providing help. If a welfare recipient does have a D and A problem, they need help. They need rehab. Providing drugs to a drug addict is welfare, it's enablement. Strike two.
Even if you don't have a "problem" with drugs and alcohol, welfare is about necessities. And dope and booze is not a necessity. If you want a six pack and dime bag, get off your ass and earn it like everyone else does, hillbilly. Strike three.
The only problem I have with the suggestion to piss test hillbillies is that it doesn't go far enough. The actual welfare recipient is probably the female. And she might be drug and alcohol free. Meanwhile, there are usually a couple males shacked up at taxpayer expense that are generally high or drunk 24-7.
So, not only should the GSHB be tested, but all male residents should be tested to.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Fun With Hillbillies


We can all do without hillbillies. If I could snap my fingers and all the hillbillies would disappear--sorry, it's hard to type with tears of joy in my eyes--your taxes would go down, your property values would soar, and, without hillbilly children dragging down the average, your schools would bask in high test scores.
But, is the hillbilly good for anything?
According to one of my readers, the answer is an emphatic "Yes!"
With his limited intelligence and gullibility, the hillbilly makes an excellent target for practical jokes.
Here's what he did:
He printed up some stupid flyers, proclaiming a "Poke Run." A "poker run," for those of you who are not cursed with the hillbilly menace, is sort of a hillbilly scavenger hunt on ATVs. These morons pay an entry fee (probably earned by drug sales) to race around in their four-wheelers, motorcycles, dirt bikes, and other assorted hillbilly toys looking for playing cards.
Since proceeds from the entry money usually benefit some hillbilly who suffered brain damage from not wearing a helmet while driving a motorcycle, our anti-hillbilly practical joker grabbed a picture of a dillweed hillbilly from the Internet and made up a fake name. For example:
"Poker Run to benefit Johnny Bob Jr. , who suffered a spinal injury jumping off the Railroad bridge."
Something like that.
He then selected a remote location and a time for the fake race.
Since hillbillies are either passed out or hung over on Saturday and can only be roused from their sleep by the promise of disturbing the peace or killing woodland creatures, the reader selected 6 a.m., the ultimate time to intrude on the hillbilly's ugly rest.
He hung the signs in all the hillbilly dens--convenience stores and dirtbag bars--and on utility poles through hillbilly country.
Then, he waited.
He slept in a little, but, after a few extra hours of sleep, he decided to check on the hillbillies.
Driving to the spot, he thought the clear skies and cool, gentle breeze would make it a perfect day for a poker run--too bad it wasn't real.
As he drove passed the spot--an old construction site--his heart fluttered: there, spread across the lunar landscape of dilapidated buildings and rusted equipment was an armada of recreational vehicles, commanded by hundreds of assorted dirtbags and scuzbags, who paced impatiently, plastic cups of beer already in their hand.
For a moment, he felt bad.
So, he called the highway patrol and reported a unruly gathering on private property.
As a citizen, it was the right thing to do.

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

Notice There's No People for the Ethical Treatment of Hillbillies




Question: Why are hillbillies mean to their animals?
Answer: Because deep down, hillbillies know that their cats and dogs are smarter, cleaner, more responsible and more productive than they are.

The hillbilly must abuse and neglect their animals for that reason. It is a way to exert control. Hillbillies show their contempt for these superior species in seemingly contrasting ways. Their dogs are either tied up, forced into cages, or set free to rampage around the neighborhood.
In this post, you’ll find a perfect example of how hillbillies show contempt both for their animals and neighbors. In this case, a dog chases an innocent bike rider and the hillbillies show no compassion.
The bike rider could have been hurt. Do they care? No.
The dog could have been hurt. Do they care? No. Just an uppity animal gettin’ his come uppance, as far as they’re concerned.
Of course, the person that injures or kills the animal would be grief-struck. Again, the hillbilly only cares that his belly is full, his brain is addled by booze and dope, and that the welfare check is in the mail.

Monday, March 5, 2007

An Ode to Vicky Lynn Hogan aka Anna Nicole Smith

I think that no one, to my memory, at least, best exemplifies the spirit of the hillbilly woman as Anna Nicole Smith.
Her carefree ways. Her free-wheeling attitude.
Her binge eating, drinking, drugging and whoring.
This is my tribute.
(I'm hoping Elton John reads this. Collaboration?)

Hillbilly Rose (Like A Reefer in the Wind)
An Ode to Vicky Lynn Hogan aka Anna Nicole Smith

Goodbye Vicky Lynn
Though I never knew you at all
You were a hillbilly princess
Who could eat a basketball.
The men threw themselves at you;
Even when you were a fatty.
Then you went and died
And we ask, “hoozya baby daddy?”

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a reefer in the wind
Never knowing who to sponge off
When the rain set in.
And I would have like to have known you
I think that would’ve been good.
Just as long as you and your kin
stayed out of my neighborhood.

Reality TV was tough.
The toughest role you ever played.
You had to be semi-coherent,
Like you made it to the seventh grade.
Even when you died
The press still hounded you.
All the reporters wondered:
Did she get shot by a harpoon?

Goodbye Vicky Lynn
Queen to the hillbilly seed
You were something more than sexual
More like an over-sexed freak

Angelina Won't Adopt No Hillbilly Chile

If you live among the Hillbilly (and I pray God you do not), you'll notice that there is a dichotomy between what they say about their children and how they actually treat their children.
When they talk about their kids, the conversation is peppered with phrases such as "I love my childrens... I cain't stands to think of what would happen to ma babies. I love dem babies."
Then, you get a look at the kid. They are either grossly overweight or malnourished. Dressed in shabby clothes with last year's trendy saying on the shirt, these kids are often bruised and battered and suffer from a range of ailments that draw Social Security money.
Fathers are absent from the scene. The only time they appear is when in need of cash for dope or booze, provided by the Mama-billies welfare checks. The other interesting phenomenon is that when the Papa-billy dies, usually from an overdose or the perpetrator-victim of a murder-suicide, the local paper is filled with odes to this absentee father on Father's day and the anniversary of his birth and death.
Generally, Mama-billies must raise multi-generations, as their young daughters are pregnant in their early teens.
Hillbilly children are taught very early how to milk the system.
I watched a family of hillbillies in the grocery store and listened as the Mama-billy explained the intricacies of the food stamp (or whatever they call it now) to her "young-inz."
Mama-billy was seated in her "shopping ATV"--a scooter, designed for the handicapped and elderly, but also used by obese and lazy Hillbillies. The children, snot-nosed, seething, restless brother and sister, listened as Mama-billy said.
"Get what you want kids. Get sumthin' good. Beginning of the month and we got our aid in!"
She cackled and coughed.
"Why do we get aid, mama?" The girl mustered every IQ point to form a sentence.
"It's money the government owes us."
What the American public owed them for was never part of the conversation.
And it never will.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

An Open Letter to the Government of Mexico and its People

To the representatives and leaders of the Mexican government and its citizens,

It is of no surprise that immigration, both illegal and legal, is the cause of growing concern for Americans. Indeed, this issue threatens to mar the peace and friendship that has existed between our country for nearly two centuries. It also disrupts the prosperity of both nations.
I propose that there are creative solutions to solve this problem in a fair and equitable manner.
Here is what I would like to place on the table for consideration:
I am suggesting not an immigration program, but, an exchange program.
For every illegal Mexican arrested in America, we will allow these former Mexican citizens to remain in the country and work toward full citizenship and all its rights and responsibilities.
In exchange, you will accept 10 hillbillies per each illegal immigrant.
We believe this adequately compensates us for accommodating your citizens. It could be argued that while most immigrants in this country go on to earn wages and lead productive lives, the same can not be said of the hillbilly.
To this, I would argue that no conclusive studies on the hillbilly behavior in southern climes have been concluded. Could it not be that, like your Mexican jumping bean, the hillbilly becomes active when warm?
Perhaps in your environment of warm nights, long siestas, and a flatulent-inducing, bean-filled diet, the hillbilly may not live, but thrive!
Also, consider that the hillbilly is a mass consumer of hard liquors. Your legal tequila industry may displace your illegal drug trade as the engine of your economy! Your trade schools featuring small engine maintenance will flourish!
Finally, if these emigres are removed from their normal breeding practices--farm animals and close relations--they may choose to breed in a socially beneficial manner. Not taking odds on this one, though.
We eagerly await your reply,

Yours truly,
Smartacus

The Hillbilly Equation

There are several ways to assess the fact that the Hillbilly is a detriment to our society.
Let's get beyond the indisputable hygiene question. (If you are ever in a convenience store at 3 a.m. in Hillbilly Country and have unclogged nasal passages, you'll probably disagree with me ignoring this detriment.)
We at the Anti-Hillbilly Association (A-HA) are proving that the hillbilly and his ilk cost decent, hard-working Americans trillions of dollars.
To begin with, there is an inverse ratio between the amount of hillbillies in a given area and property values. If a hillbilly moves into your neighborhood or the government sanctions a GSHB (Government Subsidized Hillbilly) housing project nearby, expect your property value to plummet like the stake of a condemned sign planted in soft mud.
We estimate that there are 4 million hillbilly residents in the U.S. If there are ten properties in that neighborhood, that makes 40 million afflicted properties. At $100,000 per property, that's about $4 trillion. If property values go down 10 percent a year, that's $400 billion each and every time the sun makes it's annual trek around the earth, as the hillbilly believes!
Secondly, the GSHB is a two-time losing proposition for the American taxpayer. Not only is he or she losing property value, but, is actually paying for the privilege of losing money on their property! And, this government waste actually creates more hillbillies.
These revelations raise uneasy questions, no doubt.
Can we stop this cascading spiral into hillbilly bedlam?
Yes. There are solutions.
Are these solutions doable?
Yes, they are.
Palatable solutions for the tender American heart?
Perhaps not.
But, we will explore both the vexing presence of the hillbilly and solutions to the Hillbilly Question in future posts.

Saturday, March 3, 2007

Quote About Hillbillies


Jean Shepherd, you might know him as the writer and narrator of the seasonal classic "A Christmas Story," writes descriptively about the hillbilly. He, too, lived among them... and grew to despise the hillbilly.
Here's his dead-on description of what happens when the hillbilly family, "The Bumpuses" move into his neighborhood:
"Overnight, the entire neighborhood changed. The Taylors, a quiet family who had lived next to us for years moved out and--without warning--the Bumpuses had flooded in. There were thousands of them! The house seemed to age in a week. What had been a nondescript bungalow became a battered, hinge-sprung, sagging, hillbilly shack."
Many of us can relate.

Hillbilly Ingenuity


The following is a story told to me by a friend who also knows the Hillbilly... and hates the Hillbilly.
His story:
A hillbilly was attempting to erect a double-wide trailer on a piece of property. For a person of even limited intelligence, placing a double-wide trailer on a lot is a two- or three-day job; but, for this hillbilly it was a monumental task. The Egyptians did not toil so much on the pyramids as this hillbilly did on his shack.
For months, he lumbered around the site and scratched his bulbous, beard-encrusted head. Yet, still, the shack showed no progress. The trailer stood there limply on a mountain of dirt and tarp.
While most contractors would be concerned with water and electricity and perhaps a viable roadway to the home site, this hillbilly scoffed at such frivolities.
He had a pickup truck. (The hillbilly believes all problems can be solved with either duct tape or a pickup truck.)
He simply drove on a semi-level piece of ground and traveled across for what most civilized human beings would be a front lawn.
Of course, the rudimentary lessons of soil erosion was lost on this hillbilly. (He was probably fornicating with a sibling the day that lesson was discussed in school.) Eventually, the truck and rain reduced the "lane" and the yard into a mud bog.
The hillbilly was undeterred. He has a pickup truck.
As he drove across the yard, the rusted vehicle bucked like an angry bull. It roared from one mud divot to the next, and then, got stuck mere feet away from the back of the shack--where the hillbilly had plotted placement of the back porch (for more junk storage).
Suddenly, with a belch of blue smoke, the truck lurched from the hole and drifted right under the back door. The engine was blown.
The hillbilly stormed off, angry that the truck was broke, that his porch wouldn't be installed, and that the rain was washing away the soot and sweat he collected on his body over the months.
After a few hours my friend heard the noise of a large vehicle. Maybe a bulldozer. Or a tractor trailer.
To his surprise, it was a huge monster truck followed by a convoy of hillbilly vehicles. There were tattered SUVs, rusted jeeps, and a few muffler-deficient cars.
Now. If you ever see a hillbilly parade of old jalopies led by a monster truck, I want you just to sit back and enjoy the show. Because there will be a show.
One hillbilly jumped from his jalopy and climbed in the stricken truck.
Of course, my friend thought the vehicle was about to be towed.
But, there was no sign of a tow rope or chain.
Instead, with a burst of angry acceleration, the monster truck surged into the broken down vehicle and with an immense "bang!" sent the truck hurtling across the back yard. Then, the monster truck hit him again! And again!
You could see the neck of the driver snap with each smack.
One last smack and the truck rolled dumbly into the front yard.
The hillbillies gathered around the truck and watched as the driver climbed out of the truck, rubbing his soar neck.
They smiled, admiring their hillbilly ingenuity.

Your Tax Dollars at Work


There are two classes of Hillbilly: the semi-domesticated and the government-subsidized hillbilly (GSHB).
The former attempts to earn his keep in society by manual labor and odd jobs. Besides his once a month drinking binge, the semi-domesticated hillbilly is docile and harmless. He's a rustic echo of times gone by, like an Amish man, but in a pick-up truck and with little of the master craftsman skills (unless you consider duct tape beer can airplanes to be a master craft).
The government subsidized hillbilly is another story.
The male hillbilly lives in the section-8 apartment of the female of the species. She collects money for the children she has had from various fathers. There is no family tree for this household, it is a family forest of twisted, gnarled shrubs. The GSHB collect additional money from the government for defective hillbilly children. For instance, a child with ADHD may be called Britni or Billy Ray, but in the heart of GSHB mother, his or her name is "jackpot."
While the semi-domesticated hillbilly expends energy cutting lawns or sawing lumber, the GSHB churns and reels with mindless energy. He spends his day breeding, smoking, doing drugs, drinking, stealing, scamming and generally finding trouble on every backroad and side street.
He dabbles in chemistry, making meth and turning oxycontin into hillbilly heroin. He eventually becomes mired in the revolving door penal system, where is uncouthness is even too much for the career criminal, who asks to be reassigned to a new cell. There is honor among thieves, perhaps, but the GSHB honors nothing except a full belly and dope-addled brain.
The prognosis for the GSHB is not good. If he does not die from an overdose, he's likely to be stabbed or maimed in a bar fight.

Technorati Profile

Friday, March 2, 2007

The Hillbilly. My Struggle.

This blog is dedicated to a creature called the Hillbilly.
Both male and female hillbillies come in varied shapes and sizes; but, generally speaking, the hillbilly is squat, fat, hairy, unbathed, and smelly.
The Native Americans called him Sasquatch, or "he who smells and is always short on rent" and most Sasquatch sitings today are nothing more than a Hillbilly who lost his way in the woods.
Hillbillies generally adhere to rural areas where limited legal restrictions and a noticeable lack of land covenants allow the Hillbilly to collect junked cars, rusted refrigerators, rusted swingsets (that they're children are forbid to play on) and other items that to the non-hillbilly are considered junk, but he considers treasure.
The Hillbilly has primitive vocalizations--grunts and growls. When the Hillbilly begins to vocalize he often starts with a high pitched squeal, thusly: "Youuu gunna..." and completes the semi-coherent rabble.
In the coming months and years, we will explore the Hillbilly in depth.
How do I know so much about the Hillbilly? I live among them. And I must pass on these lessons so you never do.
Our next lesson will be what is the difference between a Government-Subsidized Hillbilly (GSHB) and the common semi-domesticated Hillbilly?