No Rednecks

I spent the weekend covered in paint while my mother played with power tools. My father even stopped by to fix the plumbing and swing a hammer for a few hours but we're still not quite done.

Today however it was back to what passes for civilization.

Within hours I find myself stuck in traffic wondering how I am supposed to feel compassion for the fellow ogling me from the next vehicle. He has made a point of flaunting his ignorance by paying to have "No Fat chicks; they'll scrape the paint on the my truck" and "No granny panties" stenciled onto his truck; as though proud of proving Darwin's theory of evolution wrong. To quell the hate, I tell myself he has borrowed the truck from his brother. This is the closest I can come to compassion-not hating, not punching him in the face.


Later I see an infant t-shirt with the slogan: Boobie Addict. Still later I see a bag of organic cheezies. Seriously? I loathe this culture.

How do I get back here: