NetNews Usenet Archive 1992 #27/NN_1992_27.iso/spool/talk/bizarre/39244

Text File | 1992-11-24 | 8.3 KB | 199 lines

Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Path: sparky!uunet!cs.utexas.edu!newsfeed.rice.edu!rice!owlnet.rice.edu!caz
From: [e-mail] (HWRNMNBSOL)
Subject: Rasta Redneck (was: Redneck, bow to me)
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Sender: [e-mail] (James Ulysses Cazamias)
Organization: Rice University
References:  <[e-mail]>
Date: Tue, 24 Nov 1992 03:20:03 GMT
Lines: 187

In article <[e-mail]>, [e-mail] (BRADLEY T BRAUN) writes:
|> In article <[e-mail]>, [e-mail] (HWRNMNBSOL) writes:
|> >In article <[e-mail]>, [e-mail] (
|> BRADLEY T BRAUN) writes:
|>
|> >|> So, you aren't the only redneck in the clan?
|>
|> >No, Bradley.  I come from a long line of pale-skinned, God-fearing, thoroughly
|> >inbred rednecks.  We spend much of our time slaying wild creatures and rooting
|> >for starchy tubers in the dirt.  On slow weekends, we drive into the city,
|> >kidnap white-bread college kids like you, and leisurely sodomize them behind
|> >the lazy cottonwoods.                                   ^^^^^^^^
|>
|> I KNEW you 'fellers' couldn't be all bad.  Do I get dinner first?  Actually, I
|> doubt I'll feel a thing.

Naturally, since your calloused rictus has had so much experience in these
matters that you could probably engulf a smallish typewriter by sitting on it.
Having fun yet, cabin boy?

|>
|> >Feller-me-lad, hunting the wily deer is no sport for the weak-willed or lily-
|> >livered.                   ^^^^
|>
|> The more the inbreeding, the greater the challenge.  It seems likely that, in
|> your case, a slower-than-normal rabid armadillo could keep you guessing for
|> days.  However, I must give you credit:  As one with less a weak will and more a
|> lack of will, and whose liver could be said to be "in full bloom," we DO NOT
|> consider hunting deer to be a sport.  Normally, I just grab a tire-iron, lean
|> out the window, and club senseless the six to eight deer normally munching my
|> petunias.  HARDLY sporting.

'HAHDLY spohting, Dovey', he says in his clipped Ivy League accent.....

You are badly underestimating the cunning of the fearsome whitetail.  These
bloodthirsty beasts steal into the streets of our provincial dorps late at
night and bear away our youngest children from their cribs!  They suck the
breath from the elderly, strike fear into the hearts of grown men, and steal
lunch money from the helpless tots!  These hooved fiends are the Devil's own
ungulants, I assure you.  Take on one of these muthas with a tire iron and
you're likely to get a broken bottle in the sternum.

|>
|> >There is real challenge to stalking your prey, stealing upon the hapless
|> >animal, and unloading your weapon into its fear-stricken body.
|>                             ^^^^^^
|> From this reference, I am left to wonder about the possibility that you've seen
|> military service, in the ranks, of course.  It seems likely, as your type are
|> usually quite eager to run off as cannon fodder, er, that's to say (almost
|> blowing the 'slick, cultured, urbanite' good thing): "to make the ultimate
|> sacrifice for the American way, blah blah blah."  You've already suggested a
|> potential use for your 'gun,' as you enlisted types are fond of naming the male
|> member.

'Gun'?  Did I say 'gun'?  No never, I assure you.

No, I'm no military man.  I deal death on a strictly civilian level, thank you.
However, we Solbergs have had a long and glorious history of service in the
ranks of the armed forces.  My father, for instance, stalked water buffalo
in the killing fields of the Viet Cong.  In the Battle of the Bulge, grand-
father distinguished himself by bringing down two bucks.  At Antietam, great-
great-great-grandfather Solberg flaunted the marksmanship of Grant's fifth
brigade by clubbing some coneys dangerously close to enemy lines.  He also
buggered a loose-cheeked Unionist deserter named Isiah T. Braun during the rout
at Fort Aransas, but that is another story.

|>
|> >And there is danger, too!  Picture the mighty buck, thrashing in its throes
|> >of death, laying about it with rack and hooves alike!  The teeth, how they
|> >snap!  The legs, how they kick!
|>
|> That sounds great!  Although, the white tail deer in the U.S. have a South to
|> North size cline that sort of ruins the image.  I mean, here in the East they're
|> quite sizable, but in Texas?  Contrary to the popular (Texan-induced) myth, they
|> must be only slightly larger than chipmunks.

Huge, hideous chipmunks, I assure you.

My last kill dressed out to about 100 pounds of meat.  But why am I trying
to compete? you could say that about your last prom date....

|>
|> >.....and, of course, one could always get shot by drunken compatriots who
|> >think you resemble a migratory elk.....
|>
|> At least, that's what they'll tell the police.  After all, if they went out in
|> search of danger, what's more exciting than training your sights on another
|> drunken, heavily armed redneck?  Besides, this'll decide PERMANENTLY who gets to
|> sleep with Mom.

No, no, for THAT we play 'Spin the Carpetbagger'.

|>
|> >Why, on my tenth birthday, I went hunting with my uncle Alonzo and brought down
|> >two okapi.
|>
|> Did THEY get dinner first?  Oh, I'm so jealous!  You sweaty types are just so
|> fickle.

Fickle, schmickle.  Oh, Bradley, I simply MUST have you....

|>
|> >On the way home, the jogging of the truck discharged my rifle; he caught a
|> >round in the coccyx.
|>
|> Of course, if you hadn't been pointing it at him with your finger on the trigger
|> like an inbred idiot....

That'll teach him to sleep with Mom on his 'off' day.....

|>
|> >From that day forward, I've always unloaded my weapon after hunting --
|>
|> "I unload my 'gun' while hunting."

Kiddo, you'd unload your colon if the garbage truck backfired.

|>
|> >I'm such a damn liar.....
|>
|> A truly self-evident declarative.
|>
|> >Oh, Brad <sniff> you ARE a wit.  Us rednecks have nothing on you clever urban
|> >rascals.
|>
|> And yet another.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

He did it to me again, sports fans!  Will there never be an end to his
tricksy ways?!

(For you amateur flamers out there, Bradley has just utilized Glib Retort
Number 2: Agreeing With The Enemy.  Note how he cleverly turns snide, ironic
remarks into the fumbling, self-defamatory admissions of a beaten cur.  This
is truly a master at work.)

|>
|> >Tell you what, Brad: I'm going hunting today.  I shall honor you further by
|> >dedicating my kills to you.
|>
|> Rather in the way that other, similarly primitive, races would make sacrifices
|> to their gods?  I must say, this rather commendable obeisance is fitting, if not
|> somewhat embarrassing.  Still, I suppose that I must resign myself to the
|> inevitable adulation from those such as yourself.

"I want you, Bradley!  I want you!"

|>
|> >As I sight on some unknowing, defenseless beast, its muzzle trustingly lowered
|> >into the corn bin,
|>           ^^^^^^^^
|> Now it's my turn to laugh!  Sorry, 'Grizzly Adams,' those aren't deer you've
|> been hunting, they're most likely cows....[deletions]

Nope.  You see, Pocahontas, 'deer' are the four-legged sylvan critters with
naive, shiny eyes and downy-soft fur.  They leap gracefully from grassy
glade to dusky dell, where they are brought down by ten ounces of buckshot
ripping through their hindquarters.

Your mother is a 'cow'.  The two are very different.  Except for the buckshot
part.

|> >I shall squeeze the trigger and silently breathe these words: 'For you,
|> Brad....'  BLAMMO!
|>
|>
|> Oh come now, even a throwback like yourself could come up with something better
|> than that.  Let's see, how about:  "Oh, Great Urban Master, accept this blood
|> sacrifice as evidence of my eternal homage to your superior mind.  Slayer of
|> worlds, stealer of souls, allow this pitiful being to breath another day.  BRAD,
|> hear my plea!

I think you've missed the point, Bradley T.  'For you, Brad' is much the same
thing as when the Jackal blew away the cantaloupe.

|>
|> >If you like, I'll also send you some venison.  I make the MEANEST sausage... >
|>
|> Hmm, I doubt it's as good as native trout, caught on line better rated in ounces
|>    than pounds.  Now there's sport!

Ah, a fly fisherman!

Just another way of saying 'pocket-pool shark'......
--
HWRNMNBSOL