Monday, July 23, 2007

Ain't no redneck like a Georgia redneck, or, the beer can doesn't fall far from the six-pack



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5 comments:

  1. Erm...... what?

    You feeling well today WS? what happened to the thoughtful side of you?

    Oh well, your blog, your prerogative.

    Until next time.

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  2. is this a slur against masonry?
    when will you stop portraying masons in this light?

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  3. No picture, no commentary, just this one statement?!

    Perhaps this post was interupted abruptly?

    Br. Arthur Peterson

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  4. It appears the other commenters cannot divine the subtle esotericism of this post. We will leave them to discover it on their own in the fullness of time.

    In the meanwhile, I have to say that looks fun! Being from LA, I am sick to death of raw cuisine and yoga. Bring on the mud pits and funnel cakes!

    Namaste, Bubba.

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  5. Thank you for this illuminating documentary on an oft blighted American subculture.

    Once you see past the elongated vowels, the truncated vocabulary, and all the grits-reinforced man-boobs, you'll see that Rednecks are clearly as sophisticated and culturlly sensitive as any . . . uh . . . ah crap. What a bunch of mudpit wrestlin', Pabst swillin, toothless degenerates.

    Thank god I'm from Alabama.

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