Just for Grins

Just for grins

Many think that Medulla Oblongata is the capital of Uganda. A few think it is the name of the second cousin of the deposed leader of Congo who was caught cheating on his wife while on a business trip overseas to lobby for investment in his country and is currently facing jail time. What a hoot! Even a second grader knows it is the name of one of the moons orbiting Jupiter. OK, I obviously made up the above story to illustrate the amount of ignorance that afflicts people in general.  I can handle ignorance but I have a hard time with dealing with stupidity.

It gets worse when you strike a conversation with the rednecks whose numbers are on the increase. To the uninitiated, the ‘rednecks’ are the uneducated, white farmers aka hillbillies. If you saw a person compulsively picking his skin, stroking his young beard thoughtfully and burping at an alarming rate in public places, you just ran into one. A redneck typically likes unlimited beer, Jesus, pick-up trucks of ungodly size, and country music - not necessarily in that order though. Don’t let his thoughtful look deceive you because he is mostly stoned. He is the walking one page executive summary of the part of human race that badly needs some overhaul.

The other day I walked in to a local store to buy a few things and there was this redneck couple in front of me in the check-out line arguing heatedly whether they should pay for their purchase with a twenty dollar bill or two ten dollar bills. While the woman strongly advocated the two ten dollar bills strategy our man Bubba (If you threw a stone in a redneck congregation it is certain to hit a ‘Bubba’. If you knew ten rednecks you can bet your bottom dollar six of them will answer to the name ‘Bubba’) was more in favor of the twenty dollar bill approach.  Tension was building and the atmosphere was kind of charged with electricity of the worst kind.  While the belcher-in-chief stood his ground busy scratching, his girlfriend sported a deer-in-the-headlights look, anxiously waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Check-out lines are where the angel in me goes AWOL. I am a nice guy and but there are chinks in my armor. It is difficult to believe but true. People whip out their check books and IDs and start writing the check and balancing their accounts at the same time while maintaining an amiable social conversation with the sales clerk. They become completely oblivious to their surroundings and do not care much if you, just right behind them in the line, are having a cardiac arrest.  My patience was wearing thin for I had a bad round of golf in the morning and was not going to put up with any more shenanigans in life. So, I decided to make my move.

I tapped on the shoulder of Bubba and asked him with an engaging smile if there was anything I could do to alleviate the situation. Bubba explained to me what was going on between his burps.  I assured him that there was no need for him to further elaborate for I was closely following the on-going development.  I asked him to come clean and cut to the chase and disclose the purchase price. He proudly showed me his latest acquisition in the making –a beer cozy- with a price tag of $ 24.

The penny finally dropped and I realized that they were both beyond help. It was time to pull in the drawbridge and let the Bubbas fend for themselves.