Saturday, May 24, 2008


Awesome. It's like I jinxed myself. Sleeping in on Saturday morning?! Ha. Who am I kidding? I fell asleep on the couch last night trying to watch Stephen King's The Mist. Fell asleep again in a bed properly like most people do. Woke up a few seconds ago panicking because I was short of breath. Then noticed it was Tux sitting on my chest. Dude just got heavy overnight or something. Probably will walk him before the sun rises. So starts my Memorial Day weekend. You know, some people really plan for this weekend. I mean, they plan like months in advance. Honestly, you have to tell me when Memorial Day is because I'll always forget. I usually think it's sometime in August. Sometimes I feel sorry for people who look forward to Memorial Day because I think, "Man, they must really hate their job to look forward to three day weekends like that." Does that mean I'm insensitive to the meaning of Memorial Day? I don't think it should. I'm respectful about what it means...I just never remember when it is. It's like most people's birthday.

When I'm awake like this, my lovely wife has advised me from staying away from any activities that provide a stimulus so that I can go back to sleep. My problem is that I'm stimulated by mostly anything. The other night, I awoke and thought about how many types of "white trash" there are. I came up with four. Why in the hell am I thinking about that at 3 o'clock in the morning?!

The four classes of white trash could also be broken apart by economic class. It's more like "how ignorant white people act in four different economic situations." Just for your information, the four are as follows.

The Good Ol' Boy is like Bo and Luke Duke. They idolize David Allan Coe, go to church, respect their mother, failed algebra until the teachers figured they'll never hold a job so what does it matter. On the surface, they're pretty harmless, but underneath boils a frightening patroitism that often borders on the boldest of racism. This is probably the most common form of white trash. Your kids grow up with them. You were in a frat with them. They often shapeshift and can blend in with others in society quite well. They brush their teeth, use deodarant and even cologne. They're not so far gone that they don't care about attracting the opposite sex. In fact, sex is sometimes all they care about. That and Nascar. They think the Eagles are the truth. They've worn jeans to both a funeral and a wedding. Most of them have had some sort of run in with the law and say things like, "Dat's what I'm talkin' 'bout!" There's probably very little in the kingdom that awaits them except for a job in sales--perhaps at your local convenience store. Hell, maybe they'll land a management job there. Some will actually manage to graduate from college (provided they have the means to pay for it) and find better jobs. Those become our second class. One last fact about this group, they don't particularly like minorities, but they love Snoop Dogg.

Unfortunately for deserving cool folk, the thought of the suburb is fairly attractive to white trash. It's like living with all of the modern conveniences of a urban community, but without all of the pesky stuff that comes with living in the city--like crime, terrorist attacks, diversity, cultural exchanges and fear. They'll have good schools for their kids, a fire department, elected officials, sturdy fencing and maybe even tornado shelters. This is like graduation for most white trash. They're allowed to (or more accurately: required to) shake or, at least, turn down many of the characteristics of their trashiness. They do so to fit in thus giving them a full sense of belonging that they never had yet yearned so dearly for. They like Tom Petty, uphold the "American dream" (whatever that is), have Nascar tendencies, but more prefer the football because it, again, helps them fit in. They have to try their hardest to not park in the lawn or leave the house without a shirt on. Intellectually, they're present, but still have difficulty escalating the conversation to things other than sports, war and cars. This is their downfall is the confusion experienced in their attempt to reach comfort. By compromising themselves, they're never really happy and always hang onto a little bit of residual aggression from their dissent. Overall, they're pretty harmless because they want so badly to be accepted that they won't dare show their true colors. Some hold white collar jobs, hell, some of them actually might be in office in your communities.

They have an electric stove, perhaps a microwave, running water and they don't read by candlelight, but who are we kidding, they don't read anyway. The trailer park is much like any community whose people are beaten down or struggling. Getting out of the trailer park is their only ambition, but the likelihood that it'll one day happen is fairly slim. It's like the Swamp of Sadness in The Neverending Story, if you give in, it'll eat you whole and will also consume future generations. Optimism and intellect are seldom experienced and, because of this, the park breeds a cancerous hate and jealousy that usually rears its ugly head through battery, burgularly and perhaps the occassional grave robbing. They listen to whatever cassettes are available and normally don't deal with the same racial issues as their counterparts because, well, they might share communities with other races so they've adopted healthier race perspectives to help them cope with their socio-ecomonic status. Some enjoy Nascar, but their really at the mercy of what is broadcasted because they're not cable-equipped. While they're the easiest to pick on, they're probably the most socially equipped of all the white trash because they're status and location has put them in a position where reality is not something that is chosen, but is rather put upon them and they are asked to deal with it. And they do. It's not always pretty. It's not always lawful, but they work with what they have. Intellectually abandoned, their "survivor" mentality keeps them moving.

Yep, you guessed it, the Deliverance white trash. The backwoods, no-income, teeth-optional, inbred, dirty, filthy, moonshinin', gut-pigs-by-candelight white trash. Stripped of (or forfeiting) all the modern conveniences of civil life, this trash is so far removed from reality that they are more primitive alien beings asked to living in frightening electronic world. Rather than adapting modern practices, they revert to frontier living like crapping in a can and eating varmint. Sports? Nah. You'll find none of it here. It's a little unfair to classify these individuals as white trash because they're more "trash that happens to be white" because they only breed with their own. Minorities are viewed more as a paranormal occurance. Understanding music other than the sound of a banjo and a foot tapping on a wooden porch is incomprehensible. All animals are kept as pets until its dinner time and ignorance isn't bliss, it's a way of life.

I'm not saying it's the only classifications of white trash. I'm not even saying their accurate depictions, but that's what I came up with at three in the morning.

It's now seven...some time has passed because I got sidetracked by listening to Funkadelic. These dudes were insane. No, I mean, insane like in the head. But they made some crazy music.

The Roundhouse is going to the tournament next weekend. That's right. This last week's win put us over into the tourney. I believe such a performance is deemed "clutch" meaning when it counts, we kill it. Still taking orders for the new jersey which will roll out at the start of next season. The last thing I want to do is bring them out for the tournament, get hung on the wall and then have someone utter, "Must've been these new jerseys." Holla atcha boy.

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