Reckon he warn’t all that riled up 'bout the words hisself, more like he just wanted to stir the pot, make a fuss fer no good reason. Folks what’s truly happy don’t go 'round doin’ stuff like that. I growed up smack dab in Redneck country. Got kinfolk what was snatched up an' kilt by Injuns—Shawnee, to be right 'bout it. Had folks fightin’ fer the Confederacy too. They was farmers, coal miners, even got shot at by them Jap snipers while runnin’ bulldozers an' diggin’ out bridges an' airstrips out yonder in them Pacific islands. Some of 'em went off to Korea, Vietnam, an' some stayed home makin’ moonshine, gittin’ in scrapes—you name it.
Me? I’s the only white feller livin’ in a house full’a Vietnamese in-laws, brothers, sisters, their young'uns, my young'uns. Drank beer with fellers who couldn’t speak a lick of English, always tryin’ to set me up with gals passin' by, knowin’ damn well if the missus caught wind, she’d skin me an' the gal both. Learned real quick-like that even if the whole dang world’s fallin' apart 'round ya, you can still find a way to be happy if ya just make up yer mind to it. Ain’t no use bellyachin', hollerin', or stompin' yer foot—it is what it is.
Me, I’m a redneck, plain an' simple. Ain’t no need pretendin' I belong out in Hollywood. If folks think I’m some outlaw, scumbag, or heathen—hell, I’m kinda proud to be that thorn in their side.
