Blue State Blues as Coastal Parents Battle Invasion of
Dollywood Values

"I'm not sure where we went wrong," says Ellen McCormack,
nervously fondling the recycled paper cup holding her
organic Kona soy latte. "It seems like only yesterday Rain
was a carefree little boy at the Montessori school, playing
non-competitive musical chairs with the other children and
his care facilitators."

"But now..." she pauses, staring out the window of her
postmodern Palo Alto home. The words are hesitant, measured,
bearing a tale of family heartbreak almost too painful for
her to recount. "But now, Rain insists that I call him Bobby
Ray."

Even as her voice is choked with emotion, she summons an
inner courage -- a mother's courage -- and leads me down the
hall to "Bobby Ray's" bedroom, for a firsthand glimpse at
the psychic devastation that claimed her son.

She opens the door to a reveal a riot of George Jones CDs,
reflective 'mudflap mama' stickers, empty foil packs of Red
Man, and U.S. Marine recruiting posters. In the middle of
the room: a makeshift table made from a utility cable spool,
bearing a the remains of a gutted catfish.

"This used to be all Ikea," she says, rocking on heels
between heaved sobs. "It's too late for us. Maybe it's not
to late for me to warn others."

Pandora's Moon Pie Box

While poignant, Ellen McCormack's painful battle to save her
son is far from isolated. Across coastal America, increasing
numbers of families are discovering that their children are
have been lured into "Cracker" culture -- a new,
freewheeling underground youth movement that celebrates the
hedonistic thrills of frog-gigging and outlaw modified
sprint cars. No one knows their exact number, but
sociologists say that the movement is exploding among young
people in America's most fashionable zip codes.

"We first detected it a few years ago, with the emergence of
the trucker hat phenomenon," says Gerard Levin, professor of
abnormal sociology at the University of California. "At
first we thought it was some sort of benign, ironic strain.
By the time we realized the early wearers really were
interested in seed corn hybrids and Peterbilts, it had
already escaped containment."

Levin points to 'Patient Zero,' who in 1997 was a 23-year
old graduate student in Gender Studies at San Francisco
State University.

"During a cross-country trip to New York, he stopped at the
Iowa 80 Truck Stop in Walcott, Iowa, and bought a John Deere
gimme cap as a gag souvenir," says Levin. "Within a year, he
had dropped out of graduate school, abandoned his SoMa
apartment, and was working at a drive-thru liquor store.
Today he is a wealthy televangelist in Bossier City,
Louisiana."

The contagion of 'Patient Zero' would prove devastating.
Soon trucker hats were appearing throughout trendy coastal
neighborhoods like Williamsburg and Park Slope and Portrero
Hill, often accessorized with chain wallets and 'wife
beater' t-shirts. A new alternative youth movement had
emerged, rejecting the staid norms of establishment NPR
society and embracing the 'tune-in, turn-on, chug-up' ethos
of the Pabst Blue Ribbon underground. Before long, it would
broadcast its siren call to an even younger generation --
one whose parents were woefully unequipped to recognize it.

Youthquake

"It was one day last spring," says Ellen McCormack. "My life
partner Carol and I were in the garage, working on a giant
Donald Rumsfeld papier mache head for the Bay Area March
Against the War, when Rain walked by. I thought he looked
kind of strange, so I stopped him and looked closely into
his eyes. Then I realized the truth -- he was wearing a
mullet. I was shocked, but he swore to me that it was only
ironic."

"After a few months, it was clear Rain had lied to us --
that hideous Kentucky waterfall was completely earnest," she
adds, choking back sobs.

Her 18-year old son would soon exhibit other signs of
disturbing changes.

"I was driving past a McDonalds one day last summer, and I
thought I saw Rain's bike outside. He had told me earlier
that he was going to a friend's house to stuff envelopes for
the Dennis Kucinich campaign. I pulled a U-turn and headed
back," she recalls. "When I confronted him in the parking
lot, he started giving me a lame story about how he was only
there to protest globalization, but I could smell the french
fries on his breath."

McCormack says that Rain's erratic behavior would also come
to include excessive politeness and deference.

"Every time I tried to talk to him it was 'yes Momma,' and
'no Momma,' when he knows damn well my name is Ellen," she
says, anger rising in her voice. "It was like I didn't even
know him anymore."

McCormack tried an intervention with friends from the
Anti-war community, but to no avail. In October, Bobby Ray
packed up his Monte Carlo and left for basic training at
Camp Pendleton.

"I have no son," she says in a barely audible whisper.
Across the country in toney Westchester County, New York,
Jim and Sandy Vandenberg describe a similar tale of family
grief.

"We are people of faith who keep the Sabbath," says Sandy, a
curator in the Dada collection of the Museum of Modern Art.
"Even when she was a toddler,*we made sure Emily got up
early every Sunday morning to read the New York Times Book
Review. Sunday morning was our time, until..."

"Until those damned Jesus *******s stole my little girl,"
interrupts her husband, barely containing his anger. Once a
Freshman honors student in Lacanian Deconstruction Theory at
NYU, their daughter is now better known as Lurleen McDaniel
-- reigning Princess of the Tulsa Livestock Show and Rodeo.

In Bainbridge Island, Washington, single mom Jane Michelson
says she began suspecting that her son Brian was in trouble
after he started hanging with a new crowd at school.

"These weren't normal kids, neighborhood kids in Che
t-shirts who want to drop a couple of hits of X and chill on
Radiohead," she says. "They would talk in a sort of strange
code language, like 'Roll Tide!' and 'Gig 'em Ags!' and
'Piiiig Sooieeee!'"

Signs of trouble would soon multiply.

"One day I got into my Volvo and hit the stereo preset for
Pacifica Radio, and then I heard this obscene 'Save a Horse
Ride a Cowboy' song coming from the speakers," she recalls.
"The very next week, the maid found a tin of Skoal in his
Wranglers. I told him right then -- it was either me, or his
tobacco-spitting friends."

Now known as Randy Dale Cash, her estranged son is a
starting linebacker for Sul Ross State University in Alpine,
Texas.

Peer Pressure

Jane Michelson is not alone in her story. Throughout coastal
America, school administrators and parents are reporting an
alarming surge in 'Cracker' cliques on campus. Also known as
'Y'alls' or 'Neckies,' officials say the groups thrive by
attracting outcasts and misfits from the student body.

"We try hard to engage all of our students in fun, healthy
activities like Progressive Eco-Action March and Rage
Against Intolerance Week," says Lawrence DiBenedetto of
Patrice Lumumba Magnet School in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
"Unfortunately, there are going to be those who fall through
the cracks, into a life of bass fishing and stockcar
racing."

It appears those cracks are widening. In one recent
three-week period, fourteen high school students in
Portland, Oregon were suspended for distributing pork rinds;
a Burlington, Vermont high school was briefly closed for
decontamination after janitors found a bible hidden in a
restroom; and forty-six undergraduate coeds at Swarthmore
were expelled for staging clandestine Mary Kay cosmetics
parties.

"We became suspicious after several heavily made-up students
arrived at Katha Pollitt lecture in a pink Cadillacs," says
Swarthmore Dean of Students Geraldine Marcus.
Some say the craze threatens even the nation's most
exclusive prep schools. At Exeter, Andover and St. Albans,
rumors abound of secret societies where initiates are
steeped in the black arts of restrictor plate cheating and
satellite descramblers. Washington's elite Sidwell Friends
School was nearly forced to close after scandalized parents
learned that several students were openly touting Sams Club
cards.

The Eclectic School Aid Hayseed Trip

To better understand what attracts young affluent students
to the subculture, I spent a recent evening interviewing a
group of self-described 'Neckies' from exclusive New Trier
High School in Winnetka, Illinois. Like countless other
Friday nights, the close-knit group had made the 80 mile
ritual journey to rural Belvedere, Illinois, to cruise Steak
'N' Shake and hang out at the Mills Fleet Farm parking lot.

"Y'all, check out these new mudders," says 17-year old
'Dakota,' proudly displaying the gigantic knobbed tires
under his radically lifted 4x4 Audi Allroad. "I'm fixin' to
get me a winch and Tuffbox fer it next week."

Not to be outdone, friend and fellow Neckie 'Duane' sounds
'Dixie' on the novelty horn of his jacked-up BMW M3. An
early graduation gift from his parents, Duane has turned the
expensive German coupe into an homage to the Dukes of
Hazzard's General Lee, complete with orange Stars-and-Bars
paint job and spit cup on the console.

"Grandma gave me some money fer a summer study trip over ta
Paris, but I thought the paint job was cooler," laughs
Duane. "Hell, she thinks I'm over in the Sorbonne right now,
studying Foucault and all that ****."

"I'm a-fixin' to put in a nitrous system on the General Lee,
so I'm gonna call Grandma up and ask her for some book
money," he adds.

Like most of their classmates, these North Shore Neckies
were once bound for some of the top universities in America
-- Yale, Duke, Stanford, Northwestern -- until they
succumbed to the allure of the down home slacker lifestyle.
Now some openly talk of dropping out, learning TIG welding,
waiting tables at Waffle House or draining oil at Jiffy
Lube; some even hint of enrolling at Iowa State. What drives
privileged teens to such seemingly self-destructive
behavior?

"I guess you might could say we're rebels," says Rachel
'Tyffanie' Stern, 17, lighting a Merit Menthol 100.* Once
destined for Vassar, Stern is now living with friends after
her parents kicked her out of the house for spending her bat
mitzvah money on a bass boat. Last month she became the
youngest Jewish female to win an event on the Bassmasters
Pro Tour.

Pausing for furtive glances, several of the teens share
sniffs from a bottle of Harmon Triple Heat deer scent.

"Wooo-eee, **** howdy, that's gonna bring a mess of them
whitetail bucks," says 19-year old Wei-Li 'Lamar' Cheung. A
former Westinghouse Science Award winner, Cheung has devoted
his chemistry and biology skill to building a fledgling
hunting supply business.

A first generation Asian-American, Cheung says he was drawn
to the group by their acceptance of minorities. "Hell, I
kept tellin' all my family and teachers I wanna play fiddle,
not violin," he explains. "The 'Necks accept me the way I
am."

African-American Kwame 'Joe Don' Harris agrees. "Just
because I'm black, teachers were always pushing me to go to
Spellman to study Langston Hughes and Thelonius Monk," says
the 17 year old. "These ol' boys here never laugh at my
dream to be a crew chief for the Craftsman Truck Series."
*
If there is one aspiration that unites them all, it is the
dream of moving to Branson, Missouri. Long famed for its
laid-back attitude toward religion, country music and the
military, Branson has become a Mecca for radical young
Neckies seeking an escape from the stultifying conformity of
their coastal hometowns.

"****, y'all, I heard Branson's got like four Wal Marts, and
more $5.95 all-day breakfast buffets than Glencoe has
Starbucks," enthuses Dakota, adding quickly that "pardon my
French."

"Plus it's only a short drive up to Fort Leonard Wood," adds
Tyffanie.
* *
Talk arises of Branson's 'Summer of Bubba,' the upcoming
hedonistic hillbilly festival of music, hog calling and
nightcrawler gathering expected to draw millions of Neckies
from as far as Santa Monica and Ithaca -- even Europe.

"Y'all, I heard them Swedish 'Necks are hardcore," says Joe
Don. "They digitally remastered all the original Jerry
Clower albums."

A live-for-today attitude permeates the group's ethos, with
little concern about consequences. I ask Justin 'Jim Rob'
Borowski, 18, what motivates a young to abandon a promising
academic career in Gender Theory and Critical History to
take a wild ride in the dark world of roofing and drywall
contracting.

"My daddy was sorta mad when I tolt him I was gonna skip
Columbia Journalism School for a plumbing apprenticeship,"
he answer philosophically, popping a plug of Red Man into
his lip. "I tolt him that journalism is important, but the
world needs plumbers too."

"After the toilet backed up, I think he got my point."

Assolutely hilarious!!!!!!
Kinda long, have to read it all in installments (keep a printout by the
throne??).
*Extremely well done*--who dunnit??
Got some new additions to my own vernac, as well!
----------------------------
Mr. P.V.'d
formerly Droll Troll
"Gunner" wrote in message
...
Blue State Blues as Coastal Parents Battle Invasion of
Dollywood Values

"I'm not sure where we went wrong," says Ellen McCormack,
nervously fondling the recycled paper cup holding her
organic Kona soy latte. "It seems like only yesterday Rain
was a carefree little boy at the Montessori school, playing
non-competitive musical chairs with the other children and
his care facilitators."

"But now..." she pauses, staring out the window of her
postmodern Palo Alto home. The words are hesitant, measured,
bearing a tale of family heartbreak almost too painful for
her to recount. "But now, Rain insists that I call him Bobby
Ray."

Even as her voice is choked with emotion, she summons an
inner courage -- a mother's courage -- and leads me down the
hall to "Bobby Ray's" bedroom, for a firsthand glimpse at
the psychic devastation that claimed her son.

She opens the door to a reveal a riot of George Jones CDs,
reflective 'mudflap mama' stickers, empty foil packs of Red
Man, and U.S. Marine recruiting posters. In the middle of
the room: a makeshift table made from a utility cable spool,
bearing a the remains of a gutted catfish.

"This used to be all Ikea," she says, rocking on heels
between heaved sobs. "It's too late for us. Maybe it's not
to late for me to warn others."

Pandora's Moon Pie Box

While poignant, Ellen McCormack's painful battle to save her
son is far from isolated. Across coastal America, increasing
numbers of families are discovering that their children are
have been lured into "Cracker" culture -- a new,
freewheeling underground youth movement that celebrates the
hedonistic thrills of frog-gigging and outlaw modified
sprint cars. No one knows their exact number, but
sociologists say that the movement is exploding among young
people in America's most fashionable zip codes.

"We first detected it a few years ago, with the emergence of
the trucker hat phenomenon," says Gerard Levin, professor of
abnormal sociology at the University of California. "At
first we thought it was some sort of benign, ironic strain.
By the time we realized the early wearers really were
interested in seed corn hybrids and Peterbilts, it had
already escaped containment."

Levin points to 'Patient Zero,' who in 1997 was a 23-year
old graduate student in Gender Studies at San Francisco
State University.

"During a cross-country trip to New York, he stopped at the
Iowa 80 Truck Stop in Walcott, Iowa, and bought a John Deere
gimme cap as a gag souvenir," says Levin. "Within a year, he
had dropped out of graduate school, abandoned his SoMa
apartment, and was working at a drive-thru liquor store.
Today he is a wealthy televangelist in Bossier City,
Louisiana."

The contagion of 'Patient Zero' would prove devastating.
Soon trucker hats were appearing throughout trendy coastal
neighborhoods like Williamsburg and Park Slope and Portrero
Hill, often accessorized with chain wallets and 'wife
beater' t-shirts. A new alternative youth movement had
emerged, rejecting the staid norms of establishment NPR
society and embracing the 'tune-in, turn-on, chug-up' ethos
of the Pabst Blue Ribbon underground. Before long, it would
broadcast its siren call to an even younger generation --
one whose parents were woefully unequipped to recognize it.

Youthquake

"It was one day last spring," says Ellen McCormack. "My life
partner Carol and I were in the garage, working on a giant
Donald Rumsfeld papier mache head for the Bay Area March
Against the War, when Rain walked by. I thought he looked
kind of strange, so I stopped him and looked closely into
his eyes. Then I realized the truth -- he was wearing a
mullet. I was shocked, but he swore to me that it was only
ironic."

"After a few months, it was clear Rain had lied to us --
that hideous Kentucky waterfall was completely earnest," she
adds, choking back sobs.

Her 18-year old son would soon exhibit other signs of
disturbing changes.

"I was driving past a McDonalds one day last summer, and I
thought I saw Rain's bike outside. He had told me earlier
that he was going to a friend's house to stuff envelopes for
the Dennis Kucinich campaign. I pulled a U-turn and headed
back," she recalls. "When I confronted him in the parking
lot, he started giving me a lame story about how he was only
there to protest globalization, but I could smell the french
fries on his breath."

McCormack says that Rain's erratic behavior would also come
to include excessive politeness and deference.

"Every time I tried to talk to him it was 'yes Momma,' and
'no Momma,' when he knows damn well my name is Ellen," she
says, anger rising in her voice. "It was like I didn't even
know him anymore."

McCormack tried an intervention with friends from the
Anti-war community, but to no avail. In October, Bobby Ray
packed up his Monte Carlo and left for basic training at
Camp Pendleton.

"I have no son," she says in a barely audible whisper.
Across the country in toney Westchester County, New York,
Jim and Sandy Vandenberg describe a similar tale of family
grief.

"We are people of faith who keep the Sabbath," says Sandy, a
curator in the Dada collection of the Museum of Modern Art.
"Even when she was a toddler, we made sure Emily got up
early every Sunday morning to read the New York Times Book
Review. Sunday morning was our time, until..."

"Until those damned Jesus *******s stole my little girl,"
interrupts her husband, barely containing his anger. Once a
Freshman honors student in Lacanian Deconstruction Theory at
NYU, their daughter is now better known as Lurleen McDaniel
-- reigning Princess of the Tulsa Livestock Show and Rodeo.

In Bainbridge Island, Washington, single mom Jane Michelson
says she began suspecting that her son Brian was in trouble
after he started hanging with a new crowd at school.

"These weren't normal kids, neighborhood kids in Che
t-shirts who want to drop a couple of hits of X and chill on
Radiohead," she says. "They would talk in a sort of strange
code language, like 'Roll Tide!' and 'Gig 'em Ags!' and
'Piiiig Sooieeee!'"

Signs of trouble would soon multiply.

"One day I got into my Volvo and hit the stereo preset for
Pacifica Radio, and then I heard this obscene 'Save a Horse
Ride a Cowboy' song coming from the speakers," she recalls.
"The very next week, the maid found a tin of Skoal in his
Wranglers. I told him right then -- it was either me, or his
tobacco-spitting friends."

Now known as Randy Dale Cash, her estranged son is a
starting linebacker for Sul Ross State University in Alpine,
Texas.

Peer Pressure

Jane Michelson is not alone in her story. Throughout coastal
America, school administrators and parents are reporting an
alarming surge in 'Cracker' cliques on campus. Also known as
'Y'alls' or 'Neckies,' officials say the groups thrive by
attracting outcasts and misfits from the student body.

"We try hard to engage all of our students in fun, healthy
activities like Progressive Eco-Action March and Rage
Against Intolerance Week," says Lawrence DiBenedetto of
Patrice Lumumba Magnet School in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
"Unfortunately, there are going to be those who fall through
the cracks, into a life of bass fishing and stockcar
racing."

It appears those cracks are widening. In one recent
three-week period, fourteen high school students in
Portland, Oregon were suspended for distributing pork rinds;
a Burlington, Vermont high school was briefly closed for
decontamination after janitors found a bible hidden in a
restroom; and forty-six undergraduate coeds at Swarthmore
were expelled for staging clandestine Mary Kay cosmetics
parties.

"We became suspicious after several heavily made-up students
arrived at Katha Pollitt lecture in a pink Cadillacs," says
Swarthmore Dean of Students Geraldine Marcus.
Some say the craze threatens even the nation's most
exclusive prep schools. At Exeter, Andover and St. Albans,
rumors abound of secret societies where initiates are
steeped in the black arts of restrictor plate cheating and
satellite descramblers. Washington's elite Sidwell Friends
School was nearly forced to close after scandalized parents
learned that several students were openly touting Sams Club
cards.

The Eclectic School Aid Hayseed Trip

To better understand what attracts young affluent students
to the subculture, I spent a recent evening interviewing a
group of self-described 'Neckies' from exclusive New Trier
High School in Winnetka, Illinois. Like countless other
Friday nights, the close-knit group had made the 80 mile
ritual journey to rural Belvedere, Illinois, to cruise Steak
'N' Shake and hang out at the Mills Fleet Farm parking lot.

"Y'all, check out these new mudders," says 17-year old
'Dakota,' proudly displaying the gigantic knobbed tires
under his radically lifted 4x4 Audi Allroad. "I'm fixin' to
get me a winch and Tuffbox fer it next week."

Not to be outdone, friend and fellow Neckie 'Duane' sounds
'Dixie' on the novelty horn of his jacked-up BMW M3. An
early graduation gift from his parents, Duane has turned the
expensive German coupe into an homage to the Dukes of
Hazzard's General Lee, complete with orange Stars-and-Bars
paint job and spit cup on the console.

"Grandma gave me some money fer a summer study trip over ta
Paris, but I thought the paint job was cooler," laughs
Duane. "Hell, she thinks I'm over in the Sorbonne right now,
studying Foucault and all that ****."

"I'm a-fixin' to put in a nitrous system on the General Lee,
so I'm gonna call Grandma up and ask her for some book
money," he adds.

Like most of their classmates, these North Shore Neckies
were once bound for some of the top universities in America
-- Yale, Duke, Stanford, Northwestern -- until they
succumbed to the allure of the down home slacker lifestyle.
Now some openly talk of dropping out, learning TIG welding,
waiting tables at Waffle House or draining oil at Jiffy
Lube; some even hint of enrolling at Iowa State. What drives
privileged teens to such seemingly self-destructive
behavior?

"I guess you might could say we're rebels," says Rachel
'Tyffanie' Stern, 17, lighting a Merit Menthol 100. Once
destined for Vassar, Stern is now living with friends after
her parents kicked her out of the house for spending her bat
mitzvah money on a bass boat. Last month she became the
youngest Jewish female to win an event on the Bassmasters
Pro Tour.

Pausing for furtive glances, several of the teens share
sniffs from a bottle of Harmon Triple Heat deer scent.

"Wooo-eee, **** howdy, that's gonna bring a mess of them
whitetail bucks," says 19-year old Wei-Li 'Lamar' Cheung. A
former Westinghouse Science Award winner, Cheung has devoted
his chemistry and biology skill to building a fledgling
hunting supply business.

A first generation Asian-American, Cheung says he was drawn
to the group by their acceptance of minorities. "Hell, I
kept tellin' all my family and teachers I wanna play fiddle,
not violin," he explains. "The 'Necks accept me the way I
am."

African-American Kwame 'Joe Don' Harris agrees. "Just
because I'm black, teachers were always pushing me to go to
Spellman to study Langston Hughes and Thelonius Monk," says
the 17 year old. "These ol' boys here never laugh at my
dream to be a crew chief for the Craftsman Truck Series."

If there is one aspiration that unites them all, it is the
dream of moving to Branson, Missouri. Long famed for its
laid-back attitude toward religion, country music and the
military, Branson has become a Mecca for radical young
Neckies seeking an escape from the stultifying conformity of
their coastal hometowns.

"****, y'all, I heard Branson's got like four Wal Marts, and
more $5.95 all-day breakfast buffets than Glencoe has
Starbucks," enthuses Dakota, adding quickly that "pardon my
French."

"Plus it's only a short drive up to Fort Leonard Wood," adds
Tyffanie.

Talk arises of Branson's 'Summer of Bubba,' the upcoming
hedonistic hillbilly festival of music, hog calling and
nightcrawler gathering expected to draw millions of Neckies
from as far as Santa Monica and Ithaca -- even Europe.

"Y'all, I heard them Swedish 'Necks are hardcore," says Joe
Don. "They digitally remastered all the original Jerry
Clower albums."

A live-for-today attitude permeates the group's ethos, with
little concern about consequences. I ask Justin 'Jim Rob'
Borowski, 18, what motivates a young to abandon a promising
academic career in Gender Theory and Critical History to
take a wild ride in the dark world of roofing and drywall
contracting.

"My daddy was sorta mad when I tolt him I was gonna skip
Columbia Journalism School for a plumbing apprenticeship,"
he answer philosophically, popping a plug of Red Man into
his lip. "I tolt him that journalism is important, but the
world needs plumbers too."

"After the toilet backed up, I think he got my point."

Proctologically Violated©® wrote:

Assolutely hilarious!!!!!!
Kinda long, have to read it all in installments (keep a printout by the
throne??).
*Extremely well done*--who dunnit??
Got some new additions to my own vernac, as well!
----------------------------
Mr. P.V.'d

Her is a little fiction for next week.
http://iowahawk.typepad.com/iowahawk..._the_worl.html

wws

Thanks Gunner,
That made me laugh.
Kent

What a sad commentary on the direction many young people seem to be taking
these days. Presented graphically you would show the picture of the ascent
of man evolving from a lower being to a Homo Sapien, only it would be in
reverse. Modern Homo Sapiens devolve into knuckle-dragging, flag-waving,
red-neck crackers. I guess that explains the popularity of pro wrestling,
stock car racing, and country music. I knew it had to be something real bad.

Hawke

On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 00:59:45 -0400, "Proctologically Violated©®"
wrote:

*Extremely well done*--who dunnit??

Gummer just stole it from another whining winger.
A few have a modest sense of humor.
--
Cliff

On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 00:59:45 -0400, "Proctologically Violated©®"
wrote:

Assolutely hilarious!!!!!!
Kinda long, have to read it all in installments (keep a printout by the
throne??).
*Extremely well done*--who dunnit??
Got some new additions to my own vernac, as well!

Author unknown, it was passed on to me without atributes.

Gunner

----------------------------
Mr. P.V.'d
formerly Droll Troll
"Gunner" wrote in message
.. .
Blue State Blues as Coastal Parents Battle Invasion of
Dollywood Values

"I'm not sure where we went wrong," says Ellen McCormack,
nervously fondling the recycled paper cup holding her
organic Kona soy latte. "It seems like only yesterday Rain
was a carefree little boy at the Montessori school, playing
non-competitive musical chairs with the other children and
his care facilitators."

"But now..." she pauses, staring out the window of her
postmodern Palo Alto home. The words are hesitant, measured,
bearing a tale of family heartbreak almost too painful for
her to recount. "But now, Rain insists that I call him Bobby
Ray."

Even as her voice is choked with emotion, she summons an
inner courage -- a mother's courage -- and leads me down the
hall to "Bobby Ray's" bedroom, for a firsthand glimpse at
the psychic devastation that claimed her son.

She opens the door to a reveal a riot of George Jones CDs,
reflective 'mudflap mama' stickers, empty foil packs of Red
Man, and U.S. Marine recruiting posters. In the middle of
the room: a makeshift table made from a utility cable spool,
bearing a the remains of a gutted catfish.

"This used to be all Ikea," she says, rocking on heels
between heaved sobs. "It's too late for us. Maybe it's not
to late for me to warn others."

Pandora's Moon Pie Box

While poignant, Ellen McCormack's painful battle to save her
son is far from isolated. Across coastal America, increasing
numbers of families are discovering that their children are
have been lured into "Cracker" culture -- a new,
freewheeling underground youth movement that celebrates the
hedonistic thrills of frog-gigging and outlaw modified
sprint cars. No one knows their exact number, but
sociologists say that the movement is exploding among young
people in America's most fashionable zip codes.

"We first detected it a few years ago, with the emergence of
the trucker hat phenomenon," says Gerard Levin, professor of
abnormal sociology at the University of California. "At
first we thought it was some sort of benign, ironic strain.
By the time we realized the early wearers really were
interested in seed corn hybrids and Peterbilts, it had
already escaped containment."

Levin points to 'Patient Zero,' who in 1997 was a 23-year
old graduate student in Gender Studies at San Francisco
State University.

"During a cross-country trip to New York, he stopped at the
Iowa 80 Truck Stop in Walcott, Iowa, and bought a John Deere
gimme cap as a gag souvenir," says Levin. "Within a year, he
had dropped out of graduate school, abandoned his SoMa
apartment, and was working at a drive-thru liquor store.
Today he is a wealthy televangelist in Bossier City,
Louisiana."

The contagion of 'Patient Zero' would prove devastating.
Soon trucker hats were appearing throughout trendy coastal
neighborhoods like Williamsburg and Park Slope and Portrero
Hill, often accessorized with chain wallets and 'wife
beater' t-shirts. A new alternative youth movement had
emerged, rejecting the staid norms of establishment NPR
society and embracing the 'tune-in, turn-on, chug-up' ethos
of the Pabst Blue Ribbon underground. Before long, it would
broadcast its siren call to an even younger generation --
one whose parents were woefully unequipped to recognize it.

Youthquake

"It was one day last spring," says Ellen McCormack. "My life
partner Carol and I were in the garage, working on a giant
Donald Rumsfeld papier mache head for the Bay Area March
Against the War, when Rain walked by. I thought he looked
kind of strange, so I stopped him and looked closely into
his eyes. Then I realized the truth -- he was wearing a
mullet. I was shocked, but he swore to me that it was only
ironic."

"After a few months, it was clear Rain had lied to us --
that hideous Kentucky waterfall was completely earnest," she
adds, choking back sobs.

Her 18-year old son would soon exhibit other signs of
disturbing changes.

"I was driving past a McDonalds one day last summer, and I
thought I saw Rain's bike outside. He had told me earlier
that he was going to a friend's house to stuff envelopes for
the Dennis Kucinich campaign. I pulled a U-turn and headed
back," she recalls. "When I confronted him in the parking
lot, he started giving me a lame story about how he was only
there to protest globalization, but I could smell the french
fries on his breath."

McCormack says that Rain's erratic behavior would also come
to include excessive politeness and deference.

"Every time I tried to talk to him it was 'yes Momma,' and
'no Momma,' when he knows damn well my name is Ellen," she
says, anger rising in her voice. "It was like I didn't even
know him anymore."

McCormack tried an intervention with friends from the
Anti-war community, but to no avail. In October, Bobby Ray
packed up his Monte Carlo and left for basic training at
Camp Pendleton.

"I have no son," she says in a barely audible whisper.
Across the country in toney Westchester County, New York,
Jim and Sandy Vandenberg describe a similar tale of family
grief.

"We are people of faith who keep the Sabbath," says Sandy, a
curator in the Dada collection of the Museum of Modern Art.
"Even when she was a toddler, we made sure Emily got up
early every Sunday morning to read the New York Times Book
Review. Sunday morning was our time, until..."

"Until those damned Jesus *******s stole my little girl,"
interrupts her husband, barely containing his anger. Once a
Freshman honors student in Lacanian Deconstruction Theory at
NYU, their daughter is now better known as Lurleen McDaniel
-- reigning Princess of the Tulsa Livestock Show and Rodeo.

In Bainbridge Island, Washington, single mom Jane Michelson
says she began suspecting that her son Brian was in trouble
after he started hanging with a new crowd at school.

"These weren't normal kids, neighborhood kids in Che
t-shirts who want to drop a couple of hits of X and chill on
Radiohead," she says. "They would talk in a sort of strange
code language, like 'Roll Tide!' and 'Gig 'em Ags!' and
'Piiiig Sooieeee!'"

Signs of trouble would soon multiply.

"One day I got into my Volvo and hit the stereo preset for
Pacifica Radio, and then I heard this obscene 'Save a Horse
Ride a Cowboy' song coming from the speakers," she recalls.
"The very next week, the maid found a tin of Skoal in his
Wranglers. I told him right then -- it was either me, or his
tobacco-spitting friends."

Now known as Randy Dale Cash, her estranged son is a
starting linebacker for Sul Ross State University in Alpine,
Texas.

Peer Pressure

Jane Michelson is not alone in her story. Throughout coastal
America, school administrators and parents are reporting an
alarming surge in 'Cracker' cliques on campus. Also known as
'Y'alls' or 'Neckies,' officials say the groups thrive by
attracting outcasts and misfits from the student body.

"We try hard to engage all of our students in fun, healthy
activities like Progressive Eco-Action March and Rage
Against Intolerance Week," says Lawrence DiBenedetto of
Patrice Lumumba Magnet School in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
"Unfortunately, there are going to be those who fall through
the cracks, into a life of bass fishing and stockcar
racing."

It appears those cracks are widening. In one recent
three-week period, fourteen high school students in
Portland, Oregon were suspended for distributing pork rinds;
a Burlington, Vermont high school was briefly closed for
decontamination after janitors found a bible hidden in a
restroom; and forty-six undergraduate coeds at Swarthmore
were expelled for staging clandestine Mary Kay cosmetics
parties.

"We became suspicious after several heavily made-up students
arrived at Katha Pollitt lecture in a pink Cadillacs," says
Swarthmore Dean of Students Geraldine Marcus.
Some say the craze threatens even the nation's most
exclusive prep schools. At Exeter, Andover and St. Albans,
rumors abound of secret societies where initiates are
steeped in the black arts of restrictor plate cheating and
satellite descramblers. Washington's elite Sidwell Friends
School was nearly forced to close after scandalized parents
learned that several students were openly touting Sams Club
cards.

The Eclectic School Aid Hayseed Trip

To better understand what attracts young affluent students
to the subculture, I spent a recent evening interviewing a
group of self-described 'Neckies' from exclusive New Trier
High School in Winnetka, Illinois. Like countless other
Friday nights, the close-knit group had made the 80 mile
ritual journey to rural Belvedere, Illinois, to cruise Steak
'N' Shake and hang out at the Mills Fleet Farm parking lot.

"Y'all, check out these new mudders," says 17-year old
'Dakota,' proudly displaying the gigantic knobbed tires
under his radically lifted 4x4 Audi Allroad. "I'm fixin' to
get me a winch and Tuffbox fer it next week."

Not to be outdone, friend and fellow Neckie 'Duane' sounds
'Dixie' on the novelty horn of his jacked-up BMW M3. An
early graduation gift from his parents, Duane has turned the
expensive German coupe into an homage to the Dukes of
Hazzard's General Lee, complete with orange Stars-and-Bars
paint job and spit cup on the console.

"Grandma gave me some money fer a summer study trip over ta
Paris, but I thought the paint job was cooler," laughs
Duane. "Hell, she thinks I'm over in the Sorbonne right now,
studying Foucault and all that ****."

"I'm a-fixin' to put in a nitrous system on the General Lee,
so I'm gonna call Grandma up and ask her for some book
money," he adds.

Like most of their classmates, these North Shore Neckies
were once bound for some of the top universities in America
-- Yale, Duke, Stanford, Northwestern -- until they
succumbed to the allure of the down home slacker lifestyle.
Now some openly talk of dropping out, learning TIG welding,
waiting tables at Waffle House or draining oil at Jiffy
Lube; some even hint of enrolling at Iowa State. What drives
privileged teens to such seemingly self-destructive
behavior?

"I guess you might could say we're rebels," says Rachel
'Tyffanie' Stern, 17, lighting a Merit Menthol 100. Once
destined for Vassar, Stern is now living with friends after
her parents kicked her out of the house for spending her bat
mitzvah money on a bass boat. Last month she became the
youngest Jewish female to win an event on the Bassmasters
Pro Tour.

Pausing for furtive glances, several of the teens share
sniffs from a bottle of Harmon Triple Heat deer scent.

"Wooo-eee, **** howdy, that's gonna bring a mess of them
whitetail bucks," says 19-year old Wei-Li 'Lamar' Cheung. A
former Westinghouse Science Award winner, Cheung has devoted
his chemistry and biology skill to building a fledgling
hunting supply business.

A first generation Asian-American, Cheung says he was drawn
to the group by their acceptance of minorities. "Hell, I
kept tellin' all my family and teachers I wanna play fiddle,
not violin," he explains. "The 'Necks accept me the way I
am."

African-American Kwame 'Joe Don' Harris agrees. "Just
because I'm black, teachers were always pushing me to go to
Spellman to study Langston Hughes and Thelonius Monk," says
the 17 year old. "These ol' boys here never laugh at my
dream to be a crew chief for the Craftsman Truck Series."

If there is one aspiration that unites them all, it is the
dream of moving to Branson, Missouri. Long famed for its
laid-back attitude toward religion, country music and the
military, Branson has become a Mecca for radical young
Neckies seeking an escape from the stultifying conformity of
their coastal hometowns.

"****, y'all, I heard Branson's got like four Wal Marts, and
more $5.95 all-day breakfast buffets than Glencoe has
Starbucks," enthuses Dakota, adding quickly that "pardon my
French."

"Plus it's only a short drive up to Fort Leonard Wood," adds
Tyffanie.

Talk arises of Branson's 'Summer of Bubba,' the upcoming
hedonistic hillbilly festival of music, hog calling and
nightcrawler gathering expected to draw millions of Neckies
from as far as Santa Monica and Ithaca -- even Europe.

"Y'all, I heard them Swedish 'Necks are hardcore," says Joe
Don. "They digitally remastered all the original Jerry
Clower albums."

A live-for-today attitude permeates the group's ethos, with
little concern about consequences. I ask Justin 'Jim Rob'
Borowski, 18, what motivates a young to abandon a promising
academic career in Gender Theory and Critical History to
take a wild ride in the dark world of roofing and drywall
contracting.

"My daddy was sorta mad when I tolt him I was gonna skip
Columbia Journalism School for a plumbing apprenticeship,"
he answer philosophically, popping a plug of Red Man into
his lip. "I tolt him that journalism is important, but the
world needs plumbers too."

"After the toilet backed up, I think he got my point."

On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 01:37:27 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:

What a sad commentary on the direction many young people seem to be taking
these days. Presented graphically you would show the picture of the ascent
of man evolving from a lower being to a Homo Sapien, only it would be in
reverse. Modern Homo Sapiens devolve into knuckle-dragging, flag-waving,
red-neck crackers. I guess that explains the popularity of pro wrestling,
stock car racing, and country music. I knew it had to be something real bad.

Hawke


Bad? Its a return to civilization from that pesky tofu poisoned mind
numbed generation.

God Bless Dale Earnhart and the USA.

Say boy...are you one of those Quiche-Sapians?

Must suck to know your kind is becoming extinct. Perhaps we can save a
few of you on reservations and in zoos.

Gunner

Gunner wrote:

On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 00:59:45 -0400, "Proctologically Violated©®"
wrote:


Assolutely hilarious!!!!!!
Kinda long, have to read it all in installments (keep a printout by the
throne??).
*Extremely well done*--who dunnit??
Got some new additions to my own vernac, as well!


Author unknown, it was passed on to me without atributes.

Gunner


----------------------------
Mr. P.V.'d
formerly Droll Troll
"Gunner" wrote in message
. ..

Blue State Blues as Coastal Parents Battle Invasion of
Dollywood Values

"I'm not sure where we went wrong," says Ellen McCormack,
nervously fondling the recycled paper cup holding her
organic Kona soy latte. "It seems like only yesterday Rain
was a carefree little boy at the Montessori school, playing
non-competitive musical chairs with the other children and
his care facilitators."

"But now..." she pauses, staring out the window of her
postmodern Palo Alto home. The words are hesitant, measured,
bearing a tale of family heartbreak almost too painful for
her to recount. "But now, Rain insists that I call him Bobby
Ray."

Even as her voice is choked with emotion, she summons an
inner courage -- a mother's courage -- and leads me down the
hall to "Bobby Ray's" bedroom, for a firsthand glimpse at
the psychic devastation that claimed her son.

She opens the door to a reveal a riot of George Jones CDs,
reflective 'mudflap mama' stickers, empty foil packs of Red
Man, and U.S. Marine recruiting posters. In the middle of
the room: a makeshift table made from a utility cable spool,
bearing a the remains of a gutted catfish.

"This used to be all Ikea," she says, rocking on heels
between heaved sobs. "It's too late for us. Maybe it's not
to late for me to warn others."

Pandora's Moon Pie Box

While poignant, Ellen McCormack's painful battle to save her
son is far from isolated. Across coastal America, increasing
numbers of families are discovering that their children are
have been lured into "Cracker" culture -- a new,
freewheeling underground youth movement that celebrates the
hedonistic thrills of frog-gigging and outlaw modified
sprint cars. No one knows their exact number, but
sociologists say that the movement is exploding among young
people in America's most fashionable zip codes.

"We first detected it a few years ago, with the emergence of
the trucker hat phenomenon," says Gerard Levin, professor of
abnormal sociology at the University of California. "At
first we thought it was some sort of benign, ironic strain.
By the time we realized the early wearers really were
interested in seed corn hybrids and Peterbilts, it had
already escaped containment."

Levin points to 'Patient Zero,' who in 1997 was a 23-year
old graduate student in Gender Studies at San Francisco
State University.

"During a cross-country trip to New York, he stopped at the
Iowa 80 Truck Stop in Walcott, Iowa, and bought a John Deere
gimme cap as a gag souvenir," says Levin. "Within a year, he
had dropped out of graduate school, abandoned his SoMa
apartment, and was working at a drive-thru liquor store.
Today he is a wealthy televangelist in Bossier City,
Louisiana."

The contagion of 'Patient Zero' would prove devastating.
Soon trucker hats were appearing throughout trendy coastal
neighborhoods like Williamsburg and Park Slope and Portrero
Hill, often accessorized with chain wallets and 'wife
beater' t-shirts. A new alternative youth movement had
emerged, rejecting the staid norms of establishment NPR
society and embracing the 'tune-in, turn-on, chug-up' ethos
of the Pabst Blue Ribbon underground. Before long, it would
broadcast its siren call to an even younger generation --
one whose parents were woefully unequipped to recognize it.

Youthquake

"It was one day last spring," says Ellen McCormack. "My life
partner Carol and I were in the garage, working on a giant
Donald Rumsfeld papier mache head for the Bay Area March
Against the War, when Rain walked by. I thought he looked
kind of strange, so I stopped him and looked closely into
his eyes. Then I realized the truth -- he was wearing a
mullet. I was shocked, but he swore to me that it was only
ironic."

"After a few months, it was clear Rain had lied to us --
that hideous Kentucky waterfall was completely earnest," she
adds, choking back sobs.

Her 18-year old son would soon exhibit other signs of
disturbing changes.

"I was driving past a McDonalds one day last summer, and I
thought I saw Rain's bike outside. He had told me earlier
that he was going to a friend's house to stuff envelopes for
the Dennis Kucinich campaign. I pulled a U-turn and headed
back," she recalls. "When I confronted him in the parking
lot, he started giving me a lame story about how he was only
there to protest globalization, but I could smell the french
fries on his breath."

McCormack says that Rain's erratic behavior would also come
to include excessive politeness and deference.

"Every time I tried to talk to him it was 'yes Momma,' and
'no Momma,' when he knows damn well my name is Ellen," she
says, anger rising in her voice. "It was like I didn't even
know him anymore."

McCormack tried an intervention with friends from the
Anti-war community, but to no avail. In October, Bobby Ray
packed up his Monte Carlo and left for basic training at
Camp Pendleton.

"I have no son," she says in a barely audible whisper.
Across the country in toney Westchester County, New York,
Jim and Sandy Vandenberg describe a similar tale of family
grief.

"We are people of faith who keep the Sabbath," says Sandy, a
curator in the Dada collection of the Museum of Modern Art.
"Even when she was a toddler, we made sure Emily got up
early every Sunday morning to read the New York Times Book
Review. Sunday morning was our time, until..."

"Until those damned Jesus *******s stole my little girl,"
interrupts her husband, barely containing his anger. Once a
Freshman honors student in Lacanian Deconstruction Theory at
NYU, their daughter is now better known as Lurleen McDaniel
-- reigning Princess of the Tulsa Livestock Show and Rodeo.

In Bainbridge Island, Washington, single mom Jane Michelson
says she began suspecting that her son Brian was in trouble
after he started hanging with a new crowd at school.

"These weren't normal kids, neighborhood kids in Che
t-shirts who want to drop a couple of hits of X and chill on
Radiohead," she says. "They would talk in a sort of strange
code language, like 'Roll Tide!' and 'Gig 'em Ags!' and
'Piiiig Sooieeee!'"

Signs of trouble would soon multiply.

"One day I got into my Volvo and hit the stereo preset for
Pacifica Radio, and then I heard this obscene 'Save a Horse
Ride a Cowboy' song coming from the speakers," she recalls.
"The very next week, the maid found a tin of Skoal in his
Wranglers. I told him right then -- it was either me, or his
tobacco-spitting friends."

Now known as Randy Dale Cash, her estranged son is a
starting linebacker for Sul Ross State University in Alpine,
Texas.

Peer Pressure

Jane Michelson is not alone in her story. Throughout coastal
America, school administrators and parents are reporting an
alarming surge in 'Cracker' cliques on campus. Also known as
'Y'alls' or 'Neckies,' officials say the groups thrive by
attracting outcasts and misfits from the student body.

"We try hard to engage all of our students in fun, healthy
activities like Progressive Eco-Action March and Rage
Against Intolerance Week," says Lawrence DiBenedetto of
Patrice Lumumba Magnet School in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
"Unfortunately, there are going to be those who fall through
the cracks, into a life of bass fishing and stockcar
racing."

It appears those cracks are widening. In one recent
three-week period, fourteen high school students in
Portland, Oregon were suspended for distributing pork rinds;
a Burlington, Vermont high school was briefly closed for
decontamination after janitors found a bible hidden in a
restroom; and forty-six undergraduate coeds at Swarthmore
were expelled for staging clandestine Mary Kay cosmetics
parties.

"We became suspicious after several heavily made-up students
arrived at Katha Pollitt lecture in a pink Cadillacs," says
Swarthmore Dean of Students Geraldine Marcus.
Some say the craze threatens even the nation's most
exclusive prep schools. At Exeter, Andover and St. Albans,
rumors abound of secret societies where initiates are
steeped in the black arts of restrictor plate cheating and
satellite descramblers. Washington's elite Sidwell Friends
School was nearly forced to close after scandalized parents
learned that several students were openly touting Sams Club
cards.

The Eclectic School Aid Hayseed Trip

To better understand what attracts young affluent students
to the subculture, I spent a recent evening interviewing a
group of self-described 'Neckies' from exclusive New Trier
High School in Winnetka, Illinois. Like countless other
Friday nights, the close-knit group had made the 80 mile
ritual journey to rural Belvedere, Illinois, to cruise Steak
'N' Shake and hang out at the Mills Fleet Farm parking lot.

"Y'all, check out these new mudders," says 17-year old
'Dakota,' proudly displaying the gigantic knobbed tires
under his radically lifted 4x4 Audi Allroad. "I'm fixin' to
get me a winch and Tuffbox fer it next week."

Not to be outdone, friend and fellow Neckie 'Duane' sounds
'Dixie' on the novelty horn of his jacked-up BMW M3. An
early graduation gift from his parents, Duane has turned the
expensive German coupe into an homage to the Dukes of
Hazzard's General Lee, complete with orange Stars-and-Bars
paint job and spit cup on the console.

"Grandma gave me some money fer a summer study trip over ta
Paris, but I thought the paint job was cooler," laughs
Duane. "Hell, she thinks I'm over in the Sorbonne right now,
studying Foucault and all that ****."

"I'm a-fixin' to put in a nitrous system on the General Lee,
so I'm gonna call Grandma up and ask her for some book
money," he adds.

Like most of their classmates, these North Shore Neckies
were once bound for some of the top universities in America
-- Yale, Duke, Stanford, Northwestern -- until they
succumbed to the allure of the down home slacker lifestyle.
Now some openly talk of dropping out, learning TIG welding,
waiting tables at Waffle House or draining oil at Jiffy
Lube; some even hint of enrolling at Iowa State. What drives
privileged teens to such seemingly self-destructive
behavior?

"I guess you might could say we're rebels," says Rachel
'Tyffanie' Stern, 17, lighting a Merit Menthol 100. Once
destined for Vassar, Stern is now living with friends after
her parents kicked her out of the house for spending her bat
mitzvah money on a bass boat. Last month she became the
youngest Jewish female to win an event on the Bassmasters
Pro Tour.

Pausing for furtive glances, several of the teens share
sniffs from a bottle of Harmon Triple Heat deer scent.

"Wooo-eee, **** howdy, that's gonna bring a mess of them
whitetail bucks," says 19-year old Wei-Li 'Lamar' Cheung. A
former Westinghouse Science Award winner, Cheung has devoted
his chemistry and biology skill to building a fledgling
hunting supply business.

A first generation Asian-American, Cheung says he was drawn
to the group by their acceptance of minorities. "Hell, I
kept tellin' all my family and teachers I wanna play fiddle,
not violin," he explains. "The 'Necks accept me the way I
am."

African-American Kwame 'Joe Don' Harris agrees. "Just
because I'm black, teachers were always pushing me to go to
Spellman to study Langston Hughes and Thelonius Monk," says
the 17 year old. "These ol' boys here never laugh at my
dream to be a crew chief for the Craftsman Truck Series."

If there is one aspiration that unites them all, it is the
dream of moving to Branson, Missouri. Long famed for its
laid-back attitude toward religion, country music and the
military, Branson has become a Mecca for radical young
Neckies seeking an escape from the stultifying conformity of
their coastal hometowns.

"****, y'all, I heard Branson's got like four Wal Marts, and
more $5.95 all-day breakfast buffets than Glencoe has
Starbucks," enthuses Dakota, adding quickly that "pardon my
French."

"Plus it's only a short drive up to Fort Leonard Wood," adds
Tyffanie.

Talk arises of Branson's 'Summer of Bubba,' the upcoming
hedonistic hillbilly festival of music, hog calling and
nightcrawler gathering expected to draw millions of Neckies
from as far as Santa Monica and Ithaca -- even Europe.

"Y'all, I heard them Swedish 'Necks are hardcore," says Joe
Don. "They digitally remastered all the original Jerry
Clower albums."

A live-for-today attitude permeates the group's ethos, with
little concern about consequences. I ask Justin 'Jim Rob'
Borowski, 18, what motivates a young to abandon a promising
academic career in Gender Theory and Critical History to
take a wild ride in the dark world of roofing and drywall
contracting.

"My daddy was sorta mad when I tolt him I was gonna skip
Columbia Journalism School for a plumbing apprenticeship,"
he answer philosophically, popping a plug of Red Man into
his lip. "I tolt him that journalism is important, but the
world needs plumbers too."

"After the toilet backed up, I think he got my point."


http://iowahawk.typepad.com/
google is my freud

wws

Cliff wrote:
On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 00:59:45 -0400, "Proctologically Violated©®"
wrote:


*Extremely well done*--who dunnit??


Gummer just stole it from another whining winger.
A few have a modest sense of humor.
I see I will really have to make a effort to get the fund raising going
so that we can get Cliffy a funny bone along with his brain transplant
Marc

Gunner wrote:
On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 01:37:27 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:


What a sad commentary on the direction many young people seem to be taking
these days. Presented graphically you would show the picture of the ascent
of man evolving from a lower being to a Homo Sapien, only it would be in
reverse. Modern Homo Sapiens devolve into knuckle-dragging, flag-waving,
red-neck crackers. I guess that explains the popularity of pro wrestling,
stock car racing, and country music. I knew it had to be something real bad.

Hawke



Bad? Its a return to civilization from that pesky tofu poisoned mind
numbed generation.

God Bless Dale Earnhart and the USA.

Say boy...are you one of those Quiche-Sapians?

Must suck to know your kind is becoming extinct. Perhaps we can save a
few of you on reservations and in zoos.

Gunner

Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc

"Marc" wrote in message
news:L9pJe.5197$vD.3737@trnddc05...

I see I will really have to make a effort to get the fund raising going
so that we can get Cliffy a funny bone along with his brain transplant
Marc

In Cliffy's case it's not a Transplant but an Implant!

On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 11:46:08 -0500, "RAM^3"
wrote:

"Marc" wrote in message
news:L9pJe.5197$vD.3737@trnddc05...

I see I will really have to make a effort to get the fund raising going
so that we can get Cliffy a funny bone along with his brain transplant
Marc

In Cliffy's case it's not a Transplant but an Implant!

And here I gave some wingers credit for "modest".
Then their reading & comprehension impairments kicked in ...

LOL ...
--
Cliff

What a sad commentary on the direction many young people seem to be
taking
these days. Presented graphically you would show the picture of the
ascent
of man evolving from a lower being to a Homo Sapien, only it would be in
reverse. Modern Homo Sapiens devolve into knuckle-dragging, flag-waving,
red-neck crackers. I guess that explains the popularity of pro wrestling,
stock car racing, and country music. I knew it had to be something real
bad.

Hawke


Bad? Its a return to civilization from that pesky tofu poisoned mind
numbed generation.

God Bless Dale Earnhart and the USA.

Say boy...are you one of those Quiche-Sapians?

Must suck to know your kind is becoming extinct. Perhaps we can save a
few of you on reservations and in zoos.

Gunner


Personally, I'd rather be dead than have to live in a country where the
dominant values and passtimes come straight out of the Confederate States of
America. The only thing worse would have to be a Jew living under Nazi rule.
Kind of makes you wonder why we hear all the time how great higher education
is when all the majority aspires to it to be the consummate hillbilly. That
may be okay for your ilk but I'll take a higher road, thanks.

Hawke

Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc

Maybe that's because even though he's so frequently wrong about so many
things, at least he's not completely without value as a human being, like
you are.

Hawke

Cliff wrote:
On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 11:46:08 -0500, "RAM^3"
wrote:


"Marc" wrote in message
news:L9pJe.5197$vD.3737@trnddc05...

I see I will really have to make a effort to get the fund raising going
so that we can get Cliffy a funny bone along with his brain transplant
Marc

In Cliffy's case it's not a Transplant but an Implant!


And here I gave some wingers credit for "modest".
Then their reading & comprehension impairments kicked in ...

LOL ...

That's pretty funny cliff, you gotta agree..

Heh.

"JohnM" wrote in message
m...

That's pretty funny cliff, you gotta agree..

Heh.

How COULD Cliffy agree? No brain + no sense of humor = no WAY to agree! G

Sheeit! Y'all ain't seen nuthin yet!

(Jim)Bob

On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 18:39:46 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:

Personally, I'd rather be dead than have to live in a country where the
dominant values and passtimes come straight out of the Confederate States of
America.

That can be arrainged.

Gunner

Hawke wrote:
Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc


Maybe that's because even though he's so frequently wrong about so many
things, at least he's not completely without value as a human being, like
you are.

Hawke


Thank you Hawkey,
Made my day to be insulted by a limp wristed , bed wetting lefty.
Marc

Gunner wrote:
On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 18:39:46 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:


Personally, I'd rather be dead than have to live in a country where the
dominant values and passtimes come straight out of the Confederate States of
America.


That can be arrainged.

Gunner

another lefty ( hawkey ) who who has not a clue, that for all our (USA)
warts and all, this is still the best country in the world to live in.
Period
Mark
F*ucking left wing puke, love it or move to Canada

Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc


Maybe that's because even though he's so frequently wrong about so many
things, at least he's not completely without value as a human being,
like
you are.

Hawke


Thank you Hawkey,
Made my day to be insulted by a limp wristed , bed wetting lefty.
Marc


Ever notice that it's always the biggest closet queers that like to use
homosexual insults the most? Pot calling the kettle black, eh?

Hawke

"Gunner" wrote in message
...
On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 18:39:46 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:

Personally, I'd rather be dead than have to live in a country where the
dominant values and passtimes come straight out of the Confederate States
of
America.

That can be arrainged.

Gunner


Easier said than done!

Hawke

"Hawke" wrote

Ever notice that it's always the biggest closet queers that like to use
homosexual insults the most? Pot calling the kettle black, eh?

Hawke


It is DEFINITELY the person with the most unresolved inner hate, anxiety,
and conflict because of sexual abuse or homosexual tendencies that shifts
the blame and attention to other people?

Not a phenomenon, but a psychological indicator since the psychological
pioneers Jung and Freud.

And you are crowing so loudly because .....................?

Steve

On Mon, 8 Aug 2005 21:48:33 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:

Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc


Maybe that's because even though he's so frequently wrong about so many
things, at least he's not completely without value as a human being,
like
you are.

Hawke


Thank you Hawkey,
Made my day to be insulted by a limp wristed , bed wetting lefty.
Marc


Ever notice that it's always the biggest closet queers that like to use
homosexual insults the most? Pot calling the kettle black, eh?

These wingers are probably so "manly" that they *need* guns.
And/or cigars.
--
Cliff

In misc.survivalism Cliff wrote:

These wingers are probably so "manly" that they *need* guns.
And/or cigars.

Sometimes a gun is only a cigar.

Or something like that...


--
Why don't presidents fight the war?
Why do they always send the poor?

-- System of a Down

On Mon, 8 Aug 2005 21:48:33 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:

Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc


Maybe that's because even though he's so frequently wrong about so many
things, at least he's not completely without value as a human being,
like
you are.

Hawke


Thank you Hawkey,
Made my day to be insulted by a limp wristed , bed wetting lefty.
Marc


Ever notice that it's always the biggest closet queers that like to use
homosexual insults the most? Pot calling the kettle black, eh?

Hawke

Hummmm...oddly enough..you may just have outted yourself. I dont see
any reference to gays in his post.

So Hawker old boy..when did you find out you were a homosexual?
Must have been rough at first eh?

Gunner

Liberals - Cosmopolitan critics, men who are the friends
of every country save their own. Benjamin Disraeli

On Mon, 8 Aug 2005 21:50:13 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:


"Gunner" wrote in message
.. .
On Sun, 7 Aug 2005 18:39:46 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:

Personally, I'd rather be dead than have to live in a country where the
dominant values and passtimes come straight out of the Confederate States
of
America.

That can be arrainged.

Gunner


Easier said than done!

Hawke

Pehaps.
Perhaps not.

Gunner

Liberals - Cosmopolitan critics, men who are the friends
of every country save their own. Benjamin Disraeli

Comment on the bottom

Gunner wrote:
On Mon, 8 Aug 2005 21:48:33 -0700, "Hawke"
wrote:


Gunner you are being much to nice to that bed wetting, knee crawling,
whimpering spot of wasted sperm.
Marc


Maybe that's because even though he's so frequently wrong about so many
things, at least he's not completely without value as a human being,

like

you are.

Hawke



Thank you Hawkey,
Made my day to be insulted by a limp wristed , bed wetting lefty.
Marc


Ever notice that it's always the biggest closet queers that like to use
homosexual insults the most? Pot calling the kettle black, eh?

Hawke


Hummmm...oddly enough..you may just have outted yourself. I dont see
any reference to gays in his post.

So Hawker old boy..when did you find out you were a homosexual?
Must have been rough at first eh?

Gunner

Liberals - Cosmopolitan critics, men who are the friends
of every country save their own. Benjamin Disraeli
Thanks Gunner,
You said that better than I could have.
I guess we will have to add hawkey to the list for a brain IMplant.
Although some times her does make a good point, but Cliffy just
rants on the same crap the Dino the Screamer says. A parrot
comes to mind, but that would be a insult to the parrot.
Aye
(its a scottish thing)
Mark

On Wed, 10 Aug 2005 13:48:15 GMT, Marc wrote:

Thanks Gunner,
You said that better than I could have.
I guess we will have to add hawkey to the list for a brain IMplant.
Although some times her does make a good point, but Cliffy just
rants on the same crap the Dino the Screamer says. A parrot
comes to mind, but that would be a insult to the parrot.

Found those "WMDs" yet?
Put up or nail some idiot wingers.
Doesn't your back hurt from staying stooped over like that?

HTH
--
Cliff