When I was four, I came home from playing with my across-the-street neighbor Meb and went looking for my father.
“Daddy,” I said, “what’s a nigger-loving kike?”
As soon as he recovered from his apoplectic fit, he asked, “Why?”
“Meb says that her daddy says that you are one.”
And people ask me why I’m never going back to South Carolina.
I’m from Georgia and living in North Carolina (after having lived in major cities). My limited impression of South Carolina is that it ranks just above Alabama and Mississippi in redneck ignorance.
LOL! I went through hell at a Shoney’s (yeah, I know… why’d I pick Shoney’s in the first place) in S. Carolina on the way back from a recent trip to Florida. Once you cross the southern tip of New Jersey, you’re in the south and people have accents and weird stuff starts to happen. It really sucks, but I’m not surprised.
Well, Shoney’s does sell an extraordinary strawberry pie. . . .
Aww, hell, go south of Toledo or Cleveland, OH, and everyone has a southern accent!
For some reason, I was thinking of “The Farmer and the Cowman Should Be Friends” from Oklahoma.
Carolina folks should stick together,
Carolina folks should all be pals,
Cr*ckers dance with the n*ggers’ daughters,
N*ggers dance with the cr*ckers’ gals!
(“Sh**ny” works here, too.)