What could possibly go wrong?

Let me get this straight...

You build a giant slingshot, very near to a large stand of trees. You strap yourself into it and have your buddy on a his ATV tow you at least 100 feet and then let you go.

You do not bring a helmet.

You do not bring a change of underwear.

What could possibly go wrong?

http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-us&vid=33c89eca-bd1f-4ea4-8d97-f429c2b9cee0&playlist=videoByTag:tag:most%20watched%20viral:ns:MSNVideo_Top_Cat:mk:us:vs:0&from=MSNHP&tab=m1192124571607&GT1=28114

If I could embed, I would. Sorry.

Are all rednecks bigots?

Skanky Jane asked me a while ago, "Are all rednecks bigots?" I've had to think about this for a long time, but my final answer has to be no, not all of us. Unfortunately, a disproportionate number of us are. It would appear that the same cultural conditions that are likely to lead to the tendency to take a straight line from problem A to conclusion B, regardless of the issues in the way (making them a redneck), is also likely tolead them to jump to conclusions about people. The tenacity to not give up when things get difficult also tends to lead to a tendency to not admit we're wrong. Mix in the fact that the racist South is the birthplace of most rednecks, and you get the tendency for a randomly selected redneck to also be a little bigoted. Sometimes more than a little.

Let's review the sorts of pop culture examples that lead to the perception of being a racist, sexist, and generally bigoted person as being synonymous with being a redneck.

In the closing scene of Easy Rider, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper are riding their motorcycles out of New Orleans and a truck comes up behind them. Pickup truck--redneck mark #1. One of them says to the other, "pass him, let's give him a scare." Accent--redneck mark #2. You will note that they are probably socially conservative (like the vast majority of rednecks are) based on their antagonism towards Hopper, as well as their close haircuts and the demographic makeup of the region they come from. The man riding shotgun then pulls out an actual shotgun, points it at Hopper, and shouts derogatory remarks at him. Hopper flips him off, and the redneck shoots. Please note the use of stereotypical redneck traits immediately surrounding a man who shows himself to be a murderous bigot. Thus, a Pavlovian association is formed between redneck and bigot in the viewer's mind, even when someone the judge to be a "redneck" displays no bigoted behavior. Fonda stops to check on Hopper, then rides in the direction they and the truck were going, to go get help. By this time, the shooter has convinced the driver of the truck to turn around and check on Hopper. We are unsure whether this is out of human concern, or to make sure he's dead. The truck passes Fonda going the other way now, back towards Hopper, and the trigger man pulls the shotgun again as Fonda draws near, and the shot hits the tank on his motorcycle, causing a large fireball and blowing him to Kingdom Come. As the truck drives away and credits roll, one can hear the two men laughing.
Given the tendency for rednecks to grow up in the South, and the the American South's history as a racist, sometimes sexist, generally intolerant cultural area, it is not statistically suprising that many rednecks are a little right-of-center on the mainstream political spectrum. Rednecks tend more than the general U.S. population to be

1. somewhat racially biased (many without even knowing it-- heck, everyone is, just some more so than others)
2. wary & unaccepting of outsiders (remember, small-community upbringing is a common formative factor for rednecks, even if that is just a neighborhood or trailer park within a big city)
3. more outspokenly critical of anyone whom they have concluded to not be straight, especially men. This escalates to violence much faster among rednecks than among, say, your average New Englander.

However, I believe that since prevalence of these stereotypical (and accurate) redneck traits drops as cultural setting changes, it is the setting causing both these bigoted behaviors and redneck-ism, not redneck-ism causing the behaviors.

I hope that's a satisfactory answer, ma'am.

Is that for you?

And other embarrassing moments avoided since the invention of the self-checkout machine.



Are you stuck doing the shopping for your family? While someone you love is in dire need of immodium? "I love you, but not that much..... oh, all right. But you owe me. We ain't changing the channel during Indy this year."

This has been a major embarrassment averted by... Checkout Machine!



A lot of fathers and husbands know this one:

*ring*

"Yes, Honey?"

"I need you to pick up some... sanitary products."

"Some... you mean... wait a second, I am a grown man. I ain't goin' up there and putting that on the conveyor belt. I gotta see these people every week."

*puppy dog eyes on other end of phone*"Pleeeeaaaase?"

Relax, sir, your supermarket is equipped with.... Checkout Machine!



It's not just at the supermarket, either. Sometimes you're at the library picking up an embarrassing movie that just came in. I believe in keeping human librarians employed and always checking out my stuff that way, but sometimes an exception must be made. For example, your documentary about gay activism has just arrived, and a glance around the room reveals that only the uber-conservative librarian with the icy stare is on duty. This could be deathly awkward, especially since you're in there every week like it's a Blockbuster.

Fear not, Checkout Machine now lives in libraries, too! (She doesn't have to know)



Or maybe you're out and about with a friend, and stop off at Safeway for some food. While you're there getting all the fixin's for a good meal of strawberries and fake whipped cream, you realize how this probably looks. If you stand in line to have a chashier ring you up, that means that both the casheir and the bagger might be getting the wrong impression, and you and your ladyfriend might get followed by some aspiring filmmaker. Solution to your strawberry fix and people getting the wrong idea:

The greatest invention since sliced bread (except not really. You can ring up your own pre-sliced bread with it, though): The Checkout Machine.



Let's talk about Cool Whip for a second. This is a fantastic invention. I'm pretty sure it's not actual cream, or if it is, there is a lot of other stuff in there with it. Cool Whip, unlike aerosol whipped creams, has a very low coefficient of collapse. That is I'm-pretty-sure-I-just-slept-through-math-class-ese for Cool Whip doesn't melt as fast as canned whipped creams do.

This property makes it ideal for topping desserts which must be made and then survive the journey to the barbeque inact. This propety also makes for some fun food fights, and allows it to stand fluffed in a bowl for weeks from manufacturing to consumption. Previously, making whipped cream was a very labor-intensive task, and, having no binders, your creation had a tendency to melt and run before you could really enjoy it. Seeing a problem, some redneck took the shortest route from point A (whipped cream a hassle, but delicios) to point B (whipped cream easy and cheap, but still tasty). In case you ever find yourself without a map on this route, it is somewhere near Route 66 and Everywhere, and at exit 252 you can get off and find Cool Whip. I can't speak to whether or not the Cool Whip will give you directions back to the interstate.

It makes sense that Cool Whip is a staple in the Midwest, especially, as part of the all-American diet. I can't say I've ever been to a get-together worth bein' at that didn't have Cool Whip. My aunt's and my cousins' weddings have all had Cool Whip in among the fancy "or-derves" once the officials had let out and the reception of liqour and stories began. Every good barbeque, reunion, and Thanksgiving dinner has had Cool Whip available, and at many of those even the non-Cool Whip vittles were housed in Cool Whip-brand tupperware. In case you haven't noticed, Cool Whip is as much a part of many rednecks' culture as using too much hairspray and growing a moustache (generally not the same person).

I am personally partial to aerosol sorts of whipped cream, given their different flavor, when getting whipped cream to top food with. You can't tip your head back and spray your mouth full of whipped cream from a plastic tub. Of course, you can't dip things in a spray can, and like I said, once sprayed, it has the self-life of an ice cube in summer. Hats off to the inventor of Cool Whip, you are a real redneck of genius. (I didn't just rip that off of a Bud ad). Hush now.

Speakerphone was invented for a reason, and that's not it.

Standing in line at my local Subway shop, I got to witness an odd bit of what happens when redneck behavior collides with the portable speakerphone. The man ahead of me was next up to order and since apparently he couldn't remember what his wife wanted, he put it on speakerphone and had her talk to the dude making the sandwich, who, understandably, was annoyed. She nagged on him stuff like "make sure you get enough mayo on it. Is he getting enough mayo on it?" Which left us wondering, what evil hath this man unleashed upon this unsuspecting restaurant? When you have someone order through speakerphone, anywhere, you're a redneck. You've solved your problem. You also apparently don't give a rat's ass that it's very annoying to everyone else.

It's always white folks doing this, too. I don't know why, but it's your average "Wal-Mart when it's not on rollback IS fancy" crowd that breaks cell phone ettiquette the most.

Speakerphone is excusable when you're at the pet food store and she wants to talk to you and you want to get 50 pounds of Purina in the cart. Speakerphone is not excusable in the grocery store, at restaurants or drive-ups, or in any other situation where you could use the earpiece. In fact, if you're ordering a sandwich, have her say what she wants, write it on your hand, THEN get in line.

Basically, before you hit the speakerphone button, think. I've gotten the urge to do the speakerphone thing whilst completing one of my mom's inane "call me for details" shopping lists many times, where she'll write vague things that send you all over the store, and then talk to you like you really care what frozen dinner she gets. Dinner is not a committee process. Anyway, if I can resist the urge to put it on speaker, drop it in my shirtpocket, and stroll the isles, so can you. So just think of that little story and have a laugh next time you're tempted.

Oh hells yes

I had always kind of laughed at the fantasy football guys. That is, up until I was just kind of tooling around NASCAR.com today and found the little fantasy NASCAR link. No good can probably come of this for me, but I consider myself pretty good at picking winners, so I'm giving it a try. If anyone else here happens to also do fantasy NASCAR, comment or email me-- I figure I'm not the only one who has noticed the game.

I really have way too much random knowledge.

I do. I'm trying to gather more car-related knowledge and less fish-related knowledge, so I'm going to have to share some more fish info with you to get it out of my head.

Blowfish guts are toxic, but the muscle is not.

While Canada and the U.S. generally get along on everything, there has been continued bitter dispute over North Pacific salmon waters since time immemorial. Each country has a line that they're not supposed to fish past, but we all know how well that works. So next time you order some sushi here's an exciting thought: you may be eating illegal fish.

Now, have you ever noticed that no matter who your old neighbors were and who your new neighbors are, the new ones seem worse at first? Well, let me set the scene for this one: The original owners of two 50-year old houses both sell around the same time. They had always kept to themselves, but seemed like nice respectable people. New people buy the houses. One is bought by somewhere between three and half a dozen college-age students who probably aren't in college. There are usually three cars in their driveway and one more, which could fit in the driveway, which they like to park in front of your house. This little peice of shit wannabe sports-car import makes it tough to get out of your drive, and blocks you putting your trashcan where you always have on trash day. The second house was bought by a three-generation white trash family, based on what you've seen of them-- grandma, grandpa, young mom (and no father), and at least two school-age children. They keep to themselves and don't park in odd places, but pretty soon you start finding Docshund poo in your yard (theirs is the only tiny dog on the block, so you know). Who annoys you more?

Well, in both instances, you mount a passive-agressive campaign, putting your trash can right where you always put it even though the car is way too close to it, and begin scooping up the dog poo and tossing it back on their land. None of you yeild and neighborhood staring matches are common. How does it resolve? Well, you're still getting little brown presents every day after a long time of this. As for the young punks with the car, turns out they're car guys too and you're now on good terms (with the import parked on their side of the street). Why the shift? You both sized each other up when they moved in and decided you couldn't possibly have anything in common with them and thus decided to act like some Arab states do towards Israel: ignore them and hope they'll go away. But when they were out on their porch drinking beer, you just happened to be tuning on your Oldsmobile and ya'll got to talking. Turns out they're not violent, trashing the house, orinto drugs like they looked like at first. You're not uptight squares, creepy weirdos, or nearly as insane as you looked like at first. You're both interested in getting as many miles out of your beaters as possible, and come to be something near to friends before they're out of beer and you are convinced that you don't have a compression leak. You don't mention their annoying car out front (they do ask what the turning circle of you car is and if you ever have trouble getting out of the driveway), and when you're done talking, one of the guys moves it over in front of their house. That night, you don't call the cops when their keg party (which is suprisingly non-messy come morning) gets loud. You now officially get along with these neighbors and talk sometimes when you're both hanging out on the porch on weekends.

Moral: well, you figure it out, it ain't that tough.

Now, here's a redneck moment my chemistry professor had the other day. Remember, this is a bright, college-educated guy we're talking about here. When he figured out that people were stealing his calculators in between classes, though, his solution was to duct-tape them to three foot lengths of 2x4, when he could have just locked them in his desk. That would have been no fun, though.

The grass may be greener on the other side, but it still has to be mowed

According to my friend, the world record for watermelon-seed spitting is 3.6 yards. 11 feet, people. I've never measured my best shots. But I know that as soon as watermelons are available at King Soopers, I'll be out in the backyard with a camcorder and a tape measure. I know I'm mighty good with a sunflower seed.

Believe it or not, we got on the watermelon seed topic by flipping through and making comments about an atals we found in study hall. In it, there was a picture of a man dressed in old-school Inuit gear, furs and all, riding a caribou. The caribou didn't seem suprised. Neither did the man. There is something, though, that just seems like a bad idea when it comes to hopping onto a grazing caribou. Maybe it's because "hey ya'll, watch this" are famous last words. I know some people who would try to ride a caribou after one or two beers.