From: btb4@ns1.cc.lehigh.edu (BRADLEY T BRAUN)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Redneck, bow to me (RE:Rednecks...(RE:Rednecks...(RE:Natty...)))
Date: 23 Nov 92 06:52:52 GMT
Organization: Lehigh University



Dear Jimmy-Joe-Bob,

In article <By5014.rD@rice.edu>, caz@owlnet.rice.edu (HWRNMNBSOL) writes:
>In article <1992Nov21.044421.62485@ns1.cc.lehigh.edu>, btb4@ns1.cc.lehigh.edu (
BRADLEY T BRAUN) writes:

>|> So, you aren't the only redneck in the clan?

>No, Bradley.  I come from a long line of pale-skinned, God-fearing, thoroughly
>inbred rednecks.  We spend much of our time slaying wild creatures and rooting
>for starchy tubers in the dirt.  On slow weekends, we drive into the city,
>kidnap white-bread college kids like you, and leisurely sodomize them behind
>the lazy cottonwoods.                                   ^^^^^^^^

I KNEW you 'fellers' couldn't be all bad.  Do I get dinner first?  Actually, I
doubt I'll feel a thing.

>Feller-me-lad, hunting the wily deer is no sport for the weak-willed or lily-
>livered.                   ^^^^

The more the inbreeding, the greater the challenge.  It seems likely that, in
your case, a slower-than-normal rabid armadillo could keep you guessing for
days.  However, I must give you credit:  As one with less a weak will and more a
lack of will, and whose liver could be said to be "in full bloom," we DO NOT
consider hunting deer to be a sport.  Normally, I just grab a tire-iron, lean
out the window, and club senseless the six to eight deer normally munching my
petunias.  HARDLY sporting.

>There is real challenge to stalking your prey, stealing upon the hapless
>animal, and unloading your weapon into its fear-stricken body.
                            ^^^^^^
From this reference, I am left to wonder about the possibility that you've seen
military service, in the ranks, of course.  It seems likely, as your type are
usually quite eager to run off as cannon fodder, er, that's to say (almost
blowing the 'slick, cultured, urbanite' good thing): "to make the ultimate
sacrifice for the American way, blah blah blah."  You've already suggested a
potential use for your 'gun,' as you enlisted types are fond of naming the male
member.

>And there is danger, too!  Picture the mighty buck, thrashing in its throes
>of death, laying about it with rack and hooves alike!  The teeth, how they
>snap!  The legs, how they kick!

That sounds great!  Although, the white tail deer in the U.S. have a South to
North size cline that sort of ruins the image.  I mean, here in the East they're
quite sizable, but in Texas?  Contrary to the popular (Texan-induced) myth, they
must be only slightly larger than chipmunks.

>.....and, of course, one could always get shot by drunken compatriots who
>think you resemble a migratory elk.....

At least, that's what they'll tell the police.  After all, if they went out in
search of danger, what's more exciting than training your sights on another
drunken, heavily armed redneck?  Besides, this'll decide PERMANENTLY who gets to
sleep with Mom.

>Why, on my tenth birthday, I went hunting with my uncle Alonzo and brought down
>two okapi.

Did THEY get dinner first?  Oh, I'm so jealous!  You sweaty types are just so
fickle.

>On the way home, the jogging of the truck discharged my rifle; he caught a
>round in the coccyx.

Of course, if you hadn't been pointing it at him with your finger on the trigger
like an inbred idiot....

>From that day forward, I've always unloaded my weapon after hunting --

"I unload my 'gun' while hunting."

>I'm such a damn liar.....

A truly self-evident declarative.

>Oh, Brad <sniff> you ARE a wit.  Us rednecks have nothing on you clever urban
>rascals.

And yet another.

>Tell you what, Brad: I'm going hunting today.  I shall honor you further by
>dedicating my kills to you.

Rather in the way that other, similarly primitive, races would make sacrifices
to their gods?  I must say, this rather commendable obeisance is fitting, if not
somewhat embarrassing.  Still, I suppose that I must resign myself to the
inevitable adulation from those such as yourself.

>As I sight on some unknowing, defenseless beast, its muzzle trustingly lowered
>into the corn bin,
          ^^^^^^^^
Now it's my turn to laugh!  Sorry, 'Grizzly Adams,' those aren't deer you've
been hunting, they're most likely cows.  While your ability to determine the
location of the greatest density of herd animals (other than a suburban shopping
mall - sorry, but I couldn't let YOU have that one) could almost indicate a
glimmer of sentience on your part, you'd better watch out for pissed-off
ranchers.  A species similar to your own, with hybrids common, the rancher has
been known to wait for a 'hunter' (called a POACHER in these cases) to empty his
magazine into the 'deer' (cow) before getting in his shots.  In fact, the most
clever individuals will allow you to field dress the animal, put it in your
truck, follow you to the local redneck bar, and let you buy him a few rounds
first.

>I shall squeeze the trigger and silently breathe these words: 'For you,
Brad....'  BLAMMO!


Oh come now, even a throwback like yourself could come up with something better
than that.  Let's see, how about:  "Oh, Great Urban Master, accept this blood
sacrifice as evidence of my eternal homage to your superior mind.  Slayer of
worlds, stealer of souls, allow this pitiful being to breath another day.  BRAD,
hear my plea!

>If you like, I'll also send you some venison.  I make the MEANEST sausage... >

Hmm, I doubt it's as good as native trout, caught on line better rated in ounces
   than pounds.  Now there's sport!

- - >HWRNMNBSOL >



-- 
Brad Braun
btb4@lehigh.edu
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