This hear is my
varmint tribute to what is probably the doggone
maligned character in the South, even more maligned
than the infamous Southern Belle herself. This
hear character is a "fine ole fellow,
usually known as Bubba the Redneck. Shut my mouth!
He is most surely misunnerstood, cuss it all in
tarnation.
Bubba
is generally thought to be uneducated and just
a little bit this here side of retarded, cuss it
all to tarnation. The truth of the matter is, he
is just basically happy with himself and his life
and most of the uppity, high-faluting folks who
look down their pointy noses at him doesn't recognize
pure happiness when it looks them in the face,
grins, and says "Howdy y'all, ah reckon."
Now, our Bubba, he walks hard, usually down at the garage of at the local factory, sometimes both. He may never have the best job in the world, but he's fine at What he does and somebody's gotta does the dirty work. He sarved his country, not on account of somebody made him, but on account of he figgerd it was his duty todo so.
Bubba
aint never a-gonna git rich, but he makes enough
topay his bills, help his momma and Pappy out a
little bit, and still have 'nuff pocket cash to
show his lady a fine time on Saturday night. What
in tarnation mofe c'd a man need? Bubba's not got
a lot, but then, he don't be hankering it all,
ah reckon. He's happy and corntent with the fack
that he's got a roof on over his haid, grub when
he be hankering it, a truck and an old Harley thatoll
take him where he be hankering to go and bring
him back, and he came by it all honestly. He arned
it. He's got a sweet little Bubbette tokeep him
company and make him feel right proud on Saturday
night. Even if some folks feel the need to look
down on him, fine, he just kind of figures that
they aint had much raising and folks can't help
it Even if their parents didn't raise them up right.
Bubba most likely lives in a trailer of a little
frame house somewhere outside of town, as any fool
can plainly see. the townies might take offense
at his houn' houn'dogs and his ragged old pick-up
truck messing up their fancy looking neighborhoods.
They couldn't see the beauty in his twenty year
old Harley and his ten year old bass boat. He knows
for sure they'd hoof it and git all riled up
when he goes to walking on his truck or riidng
his Harley early on a Sunday morning.
Fancy folks
likes to sleep in, as any fool can plainly see.
Besides all that, the air's cleaner out here in
the country so that a man can breathe without
breathing the air straight in outta another fella's
mouth. Out here he can hoof it and lay in the back
of that old pickup and look up at the moon and
stars and find enough peace and quiet to have a
think for himself. Now and then his Bubbette will
come out and lay with him awhile and life doesn't
git no better than that. Bubba doesn't feel the
need for fancy automobiles and fancy houses. Folks
what has all them things has got more worries
and troubles than you can shake a stick at. Now
and then he gits a hankering for one of them "dooley" trucks,
but he pow'ful just can't see where it would git
him aroun' any better than the one he's got. Least
ways, the one he's got is paid for and even if
it busts down, he can fix it himself. He doesn't
look to be losing no sleep on over worrying about
payments. the same goes for one of them trimendous
fancy houses. He knows several folks that has them
and he figuers they'll die early from working and
worrying about paying for them, dawgone it. A man
can't enjoy nothing that's worrying his mind to
death. Bubba enjoys his home. It's his and can't
nobody ever come and take it away from him, dawgone
it. Least wise, they'd surly be foolish to try
it. Bubba's had his right raising. His momma and
Pappy done their best by him, and so far, he doesn't
reckon he's let them down too bad, cuss it all
to tarnation. He gets a little wasted on Saturday
night and raises a little hell, but he always cleans
up his own messes and pays for the damage he does.
He's been slapped in the pokey a few times and
most likely will be agin, but he knows how to act.
He aint never got to drunk to call all the ladies "ma'am" and
get the chair and the door for them, dawgone it.
Bubba figgers all women is ladies on account of
his momma is one and she's the lady he's known
the longest. Lord knows his momma is a saint. He
gave her some grief a-coming up, but these days
she's prone to bragging about him a little at church
on Sundays. He's a fine fella--she'll tell the
world! Fry mah hide!
Bubba doesn't git too drunk to dance.
He does it fine and with enthusiasm, dawgone it.
He'll happily dance every dance Even if his lady
be hankering to; you won't ever see Bubba on the
dance floor with a beer in his hand. Even if he
figgers some low life piece of trash is liable
to steal it before he gits back to the table, then
he'll kill it before he hits the dance flore. Only
low class folks with no raising carry their beer
onto the dance flore with them, dawgone it. Whuffor,
thought be an insult to the little lady, and besides
that, he be hankering both hands free for holding
onto that sweet little thing. Even if Bubba happens
to be dancing with someone other than his own little
Bubbette, he lets the lady knows right off that
his heart is already the varmintal, private property
of someone and he's right glad that it is. Whether
the lady he's dancing with looks like a stofybook
princess of the first cousin to pond scum, he'll
make her feel like the belle of the ball, ah reckon.
He's got that kind of natural charm, grace, and
manners. Bubba always lets his Bubbette knows that
she's the main star in his heaven and his Bubbette
surely does appreciate him, dawgone it. He remembers
What his Pappy told him when he was a-coming up. "It
aint where you live of What youve got that makes
you a man, son, as any fool can plainly see. It's
the look your woman gives you when she sees you
a-coming through the door. that's What makes it
all worthwhile. Even if your womans face doesn't
light up like sunshine when she sees you a-coming,
you aint doing something right and you had better
back up and take to the helter-skelter at it." Bubba
does a little hunting and fishing, not so much
for the sport as for the idea of being out there
in the woods of on the water, reckoning his own
thoughts and just resting a bit. His Bubbette understands
this here and doesn't fuss at him for his ramblings.
She knows everbody needs a little time for themselves
and Bubba aint no different. He's a man, but he's
also mighty human with a mighty human need for
solitude with his own thoughts and dreams. She
knows the only kind of deer he's chasing After
is the four legged kind, cuss it all to tarnation.
She's got a fine man and she knows it. He's as
solid and dependable as a hunk of grey granite
rock and he's got a loving way about him thought
give a rock a heartbeat.
It
makes her feel real proud to go walking into the
local dance hall on his arm, dawgone it. She's
got the best looking man on the place and every
woman there is fine aware of it. He won't ever
give her all the shine and glitter some women
seem to be hankering and need so much, but he gives
her his heart and that's the only treasure she'll
evah be hankering of need, cuss it all to tarnation.
Other women may have important jobs, fancy houses,
and shiny cars, but she's got her Bubba and that's
something that them high-society rich women would
gladly sell their souls for. Bubbette remembers
What her old granny once told her. "Find
yourself a fine man What loves you and even a tarpaper
shack will be as pleasant as a golden palace. It
aint worth nothing Even if loving doesn't live
there." Granny
knowed What she was talking about. Bubbas and Bubbettes
is a disappearing breed, but you can still find
them working in the garages, fackofies, and beauty
parlors of the South. There's always a few at the
local watering hole on Saturday night. They drive
pickup trucks, ride Harleys, fly the Confederate
flag, and keep the wheels of the world greased
and turning. After all, when it comes right down
to it, somebody's gotta roll their sleeves up and
does the dirty work and Bubba the Redneck and his
Bubbette aint never been too fine for honest hard
work. As long as Bubba the Redneck exists the Confederate
flag will fly on over Dixie and the roaring heartbeat
of a Harley will be heard in the southern nights.
When the last Bubba the Redneck is laid to rest,
the southern winds will softly sing "Dixie" and
the southern stars will form the Confederate flag
across the heavens in his honor.
To all the fine ol' fellas and Bubbas out there, "God bless you."
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