The War is not Over
The Civil War is not over, ladies an’ gentlemen. It’s not over and when you have a large number of representatives from both all packed into one, over-crowded, poorly engineered city, things start to get ugly. I, however, split enough time between the two throughout my childhood to finally stop bothering. Let’s face it: neither is superior.
Please do not assassinate me.
There will always be unnecessary tension and I cannot resolve it alone. I am a modern day Abe Lincoln. A modern day Lincoln who thinks sweet tea is delicious and believes that owning guns actually has potential and quite valid consequences.
Yankees, you will never convince Southerners that “y’all” is not a word. Or that it is called “pop,” rather than soda. Now please un-clench your fists and accept that this does not need to be a life or death issue. Also, shut up- it is not that hot out. Please step back into the air conditioning if you cannot handle the humidity because the rest of us don’t want to drag your weak [EXPLETIVE] to the hospital when you pass out from heat sickness. And that is not a dumb Virginia driver in that snow bank. That is a Yank who was too smug to consider that driving down a mountain that’s covered in a sheet of ice is nothing like driving on a snowy road through a level field in Wisconsin. Besides, the next time you curse the city of Lynchburg for inadequate supplies, I would like to see you drive a snow plow or salt truck on that mountain at 3am.
Southerners, you will never convince Yankees to like sweet tea. Their blood insulin levels are not equipped to handle that intense amount of sugar anyway. Same goes for country music. Camouflage flatters no one, and it’s a proven fact that it makes your IQ appear 40% lower. Ok that isn’t true. But seriously, you are not in the woods or Afghanistan so kindly remove your gear and blend in with the other civilians. Lastly, the South? They surrendered. They were reunited with the North and that is a good thing, because at the end of the war, the Confederacy was like a blind and crippled duckling that has since been nursed back to health. Put away your rebel flags and maybe look for a more contemporary cause to support. And while you’re at it, wash your dang truck.
Or, you know… Paint it…