Just when you think that maybe you’ve been a little hard on that most oxymoronic of phenomena, “Southern Culture,” up pops another gun-totin’, Bible-spoutin’, fried-fat-suckin’ cretin who’s too lazy to comb the grits out of his beard—let alone shave—but still thinks Americans ought listen up to what he has to say, or God’s gonna wreak some hawrbul, hawrbul vengeance upon our nation.
Far be it from me to claim every idiot in our common history has been a Southern boy, but really... can anywhere else in the country hold a candle to Florida when it comes to pure ickiness? (In fact—and I could be wrong about this—but I believe their state quarter has Casey Anthony and George Zimmerman facing one another in profile.)
And Texas... ugh! Even for its size, does not that state contribute way more than its proper share of the walking brain-dead to our national politician pool?
Then of course, there’s that good ol’ time religion they practice down Dixie way. Even if they’re not all actually handling poisonous snakes, they’ve allowed themselves for a century to be preached to by venom-dripping reptiles, many of whom go on to start their own colleges and television shows.
Not that we should expect anything theologically profound or satisfying out of a social order that treats Larry the Cable Guy like a cultural high-water mark, but let’s face it... a convention of Southern Baptists is to spirituality what a row of Porta-Toilets is to public sanitation.
As a general rule, I try to ignore anything that comes out of the South, unless it either threatens to run for president or blows up into a national hubbub. Therefore, I have never seen, nor will I ever see, an episode of Duck Dynasty
. If for some reason, that was my only choice on television, I believe I would prefer to sit in a room with all the lights off and contemplate how pleasant death will be, as compared to living in a world that considers such dreck a source of entertainment.
But then Duck Dynasty
blew up into a national hubbub due the theological sludge oozing out of one of its characters, and like the traveler who passes a pig farm and reflexively asks What is that Godawful Smell?!
, I find myself unable to avert my attentions from the hideous mess Phil Robertson has left on America’s front porch after vomiting up his opinions on gays and civil rights.
Do I think he has the right to vomit it up?
Absolutely. The First Amendment guarantees—and I could be wrong about this—everyone’s right to freely squeeze out any opinion puss they might hold in their little maggot-infested brains.
Do I think the Arts and Entertainment channel has the right to kick his stupid ass off their television show?
Absolutely. As they were the ones undiscriminating and tasteless enough to turn such a clan of low-life sasquatchs into a television show, I have no doubts it is rightfully their property—just as a documentary on bowel movements would be the property of the documentarians and not that of the piles of crap studied there-in. And is it not a universally-recognized business practice that he who pays the piper, calls the tune?
Do I think that the Left has the right to be outraged at Robertson for what he said?
Absolutely. Isn’t it bad enough we have to live in the same country with such sub-standard specimens like Robertson, let alone make celebrities out of them?
And do I think that the Right has the right to defend Robertson for what he said?
Absolutely. It’s perfectly understandable that the other
sub-standard specimens who have found a home on television and radio would want to stick up for one of their own. They know better than most that once we start cleansing our airwaves of ignorant swill, who knows where it might end?
But in light of this national hubbub, I believe it would behoove us all to take a step back and reflect on what I consider to be the most obvious truth to this whole matter—that the only reason any of us have ever heard of Phil Robertson is because he portrays a scummy, backward, third-world swamp rat, living amongst us in a modern society with a mentality that only generations of in-breeding can achieve.
And if you’re going to put a man like that on television, no one should be greatly surprised if he turns out to really be
a scummy, backward, third-world swamp rat, living amongst us in a modern society with a mentality that only generations of in-breeding can achieve.