Here Come the Bastards

I had to travel to Lexington this weekend, where I was reminded that we Virginians just so coincidentally happened to have another holiday to celebrate right around MLK Day. Yessir, it’s a day where livestock breathe a little easier, knowing that southwestern Virginians are going to be too busy solemnly honoring the memory of treason in defense of slavery to get up to their usual ungodly shenanigans. The hills are alive with rebel yells as the menfolk play the customary game of butt-nekkid-grab-ass with their sisters before everyone gathers around the still to sing southern rock songs while chowing down on freshly scraped flatmeat and getting blind drunk on ‘shine.

(above: the morning after. Roadkill should be cooked well-done to avoid food poisoning.)

It’s been said before, but it sure is funny how, out of hundreds of years of ancestry here, they only seem interested in celebrating four years in particular of their “heritage”. And, of course, it had nothing to do with hate, which is why there was a near-century of Jim Crow and unofficial slavery after the Compromise of 1877. They didn’t want to treat their colored brethren so poorly, they just had to teach Billy Yank a lesson about stickin’ his nose in their business, that’s all.