After nearly a week of worrying myself silly, I am happy to report that my family has returned from their trip to Nashville for Redneckpalooza.
Hey, I’m not trying to bash the whole Country Music Fan Fair scene – but I’ve been there. I decided to attend a few years ago because (1) I was invited and (2) it doesn’t look that bad on television.
I quickly realized that organizers intentionally conceal from the media the thousands of girls in Daisy Dukes, many having Yosemite Sam tattoos hanging out from places they ought not be and the endless steam of mullet wearing men with beer cozies, t-shirts that read, “Save a horse. Ride a Cowboy” and a weird penchant for the phrase, “Hot double Damn.”
So maybe I just had a bad experience… but it was enought to freak me right on out and make me feel divinely blessed this morning when my beloved kin returned without mud flaps on their Scion, rebel flag tattoos on their butt or a pair of those those idiotic fake “Bubba” teeth that tend to fall out everytime they yell, “Hot double Damn!”
