« There Goes My Manliness | Main | Swallowing a Donkey's Eye »

March 24, 2006



"I've held my tongue so much around my family that I can taste my fingerprints."

You are getting ready to go home. There's something in y'all's water that makes you experts at producing these original--what are they?--analogies? similies? whatever. These are great.

But it's like curling your tongue. You can either produce 'em or you can't. This northern boy can't.


I don't find any of Hank William's lyrics to be that inflammatory. None of it is racist in the strictly American sense, although it certainly is nationalist. Although, it is a call for the abridgement of economic liberties. But I would give up my rights if every girl spoke like she was from Warner Robbins, Georgia...

The comments to this entry are closed.

Go Read Now