Snakes and a Protest

I recently wrote about the perils of picking vegetables from my garden. I discovered another one yesterday. It was early in the morning, and I was out in the garden picking beans. I stepped on something. It took a second for it to register that whatever was under my foot was soft and squishy. I looked down and saw that I had placed my foot on a big ass snake. When I say big ass snake, I mean it. That may be the scientific name for the snake I stepped on. It was at least four feet long.

I immediately set the world record for the backwards hop, skip and jump while wearing large rubber boots and squealing like a little girl. Actually, that’s a bit of artistic license on my part. I did not squeal like a little girl. I believe my exact words were “holy shit” as I backpedaled like a mofo in the general direction of the okra.

Once I was over my surprise I realized it was not a poisonous snake. If had to guess, and it is a guess, I’d say it was some type of black snake. That stunning analysis is based on the fact it was a snake and it was black. Even though I’m not sure what type of snake it was, I think it’s a good thing to have a snake like that hanging around a garden because it probably eats field mice and voles, both of which nibble on plants. I’d be happy to have resident snake that ate moles, but I would probably draw the line on one large enough to eat a groundhog. One thing’s for damn sure—I’m not going to be reaching blindly under the squash and pumpkin leaves any time soon.

Turning to another subject, some people around here have not taken kindly to the recent controversy over the display of the Confederate battle flag. Lately I’ve seen a lot of pickup trucks driving around with large versions of the Stars and Bars or the old Georgia State Flag waving from the back bed.

I suspect that some of the flags I’ve seen were purchased from roadside souvenir stands. A couple of the flags had the face of Hank Williams Jr. superimposed on the Stars and Bars, at least one had the face Robert E. Lee on it and one may have had the face of P.T. Beauregard. It was either P.T. Beauregard or Colonel Sanders—they’re easy to confuse. (As an aside, the new Colonel Sanders in the K.F.C. commercials is the creepiest corporate spokesman I’ve ever seen. He looks more like an aging pedophile than a genuine Kentucky Colonel. I bet his secret ingredients include a raincoat and a piece of candy. Whose idea was it to have your corporate rep dress up like a member of the slave owning aristocracy in the anti-bellum south? I bet that will increase K.F.C.’s market share in black neighborhoods. As my kids were fond of saying when they were young: smooth move, Ex-Lax.)

Liberal Eastern Establishment metrosexuals, Hollywood liberals, “progressive” Ivy League professors and everyone who ever voted for Debbie Wasserman Schultz are quick to label people who ride around with the Confederate battle flag as ignorant rubes, rednecks and racists. They undoubtedly agree with Obama’s arrogant and dismissive assertion that country folk continue to cling to their guns and religion. I’d like to invite them to Fannin County so they can kiss my ass.

My observation is that most of the people displaying the Confederate battle flag on the back of their battered pickups are men. My guess is that most of them do not have college degrees, have lived in North Georgia all their life and have blue collar jobs.

But they are not rubes and they are not ignorant; they simply have a completely different skill set than you are likely to find among similar aged males in metropolitan areas. Collectively they know how to fish and hunt, fix a small engine, shingle a roof, fix a leaky toilet, dress and butcher a deer, makes sausage and so many other things that so-called sophisticated and educated city-types are unable to do. They may not know the difference between Chardonnay and Beaujolais or whether narrow ties are in or out this year, but they can discuss the finer points of good barbeque and know the difference between a Caroline-rigged plastic worm and a Texas-rigged one.

And yes, they do believe strongly in God and guns, and as far as I’m concerned there’s nothing wrong with that. They also believe in country. These are the people who fight our wars by making up a disproportionate part of our military. And I’ll tell you this with all sincerity: if I was going to go into harm’s way with my ass on the line, I’d rather have them standing behind me and protecting my flanks than all the namby-pamby metrosexuals in the Northeast.

I understand how the flag can represent slavery and racism to some people. I also understand how the flag can represent history and heritage to others. More than anything, I suspect that the recent proliferation of Confederate flags in this area is not motivated out of racism or a desire for white supremacy as much as it’s a protest by a proud people against smothering political correctness. It’s beginning to feel like the thought police have taken over American society and are intent on dictating every aspect of how you think, speak, act and view and interpret history.

I don’t know. I’m probably in over my head here, and all this deep thinking and analysis is starting to give me a headache. It’s time to grab a beer, munch on a Slim Jim and watch a rerun of Hee Haw. I guess that will tell you where my sympathies lie.