“How long the night to the watchman? How long the road to the weary traveller? How long the wandering of many lives to the fool who misses the way? If the traveller cannot find Master or friend to go with him, let him travel alone rather than with a fool for company.” ~ The Dhammapada
The other day an acquaintance called me a “pseudo-redneck.” I’m still trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean.
I live in a little house most well-to-do urbanites would consider a cottage or a shack, but it’s tight and well built, and no mortgage broker is getting rich off my labor. I drive a rusted out truck that’s older than both my children put together – they’re nine years apart and the youngest is eight. I guess it’s my fault Detroit is crumbling under its own weight because I’m smart enough to live within my means. I consider myself working class, but I suppose some might call me a blue-collar man. I haven’t worn shirts with any collar at all in years, so no-collar man might be a more accurate description.
I sound like a typical southern American hick when I open my mouth, but I’m not anywhere near as stupid as I sound (Tom Petty’s “Southern Accents” begins playing in the background). I suppose my poor manners might make me seem a bit uncouth to those with slightly more education or higher incomes, but I know how to behave in public when I need to, and I hardly ever burp or fart at inappropriate times. As my mother says, I clean up fairly well when I want to.
So where does the pseudo come into play?
With the exception my liberal politics, my eclectic spiritual opinions, and my generally open minded social views, I’m pretty “red.” There’s also the fact that I don’t spend every Sunday watching idiots drive in circles or sports of any other description. Those bozos are overpaid to begin with – tax ‘em back into the middle class or make ‘em get productive jobs, I’ll never miss any of it.
On the cultural side of things I’d almost rather take a bullet to the head than listen to any of the so-called music that’s come out in the last ten or fifteen years – and the trash that passes for country music these days is damned embarrassing. I guess when Willie Nelson and George Jones finally go, country music in America will truly be dead.
I never was much into that anyway, give me some good old fashioned blues, Led Zeppelin, Rush, or Greasy Bob & the Bullets any day of the week over the American Idol spawned crap that passes for talent these days. Every new singer I hear anymore needs that pitch correction software just to carry tunes in a bucket: no talent – but that’s a whole ‘nother rant!
I don’t hunt (but I’ll eat it if you bring it to me), and I haven’t been fishing since Grandpa died twenty years ago (some things will just never be the same). I wouldn’t mind going camping or hiking once in a while, but lately extended use of my legs just leads to extended periods of pain, so I’ll just stay home, chopping firewood, tending gardens, and writing crap like this for you to read.
I guess to a real redneck I might appear to be a pretender. Maybe I am a pseudo-redneck, but I’m sure as Hell not makin’ much of an effort.
Enjoy the tunes. (links)
