I May Have Joined the KKK Yesterday

As you probably hadn't noticed, I haven't posted for an entire week. It pretty much escaped my notice, too. As it turns out it, I spent most of last week at an inpatient psychiatric facility for treatment of what can only be described as a "psychotic" episode. I'll spare you the sordid details, but you should know that it involved a glockenspiel, approximately 3.03125 liters of Crisco, and a strong hankering to "make a scarlet woman" out of Mrs. Butterworth. At least, that's the way the police report reads.

OK, I made all of that up*. What I was really doing was finishing my final week of employment at Treblinka-tec, with a series of 12-14 hour days. I did this primarily because I've got rocks in my head. On Friday, otherwise known as Fuckthisfuckedupfuckingfuckawfulmotherfucking Job Day, I decided to celebrate by taking a trip to exotic location known as Indiana. Nothing of any note occurred while I was there, as it hasn't since 1838. Some of you may be wondering what part of Indiana that I visited, but I can assure you that it doesn't really matter. Closet yourself with a bushel of corn, five pounds of manure, and a first cousin and you've lived the Indiana Experience.

The interesting part, and I use the term loosely, happened on my way home. I was booked on a flight from Louisville to BWI. Since it took 30 minutes to get through security, I was one of the last to board the plane. Once aboard, I saw that it was full of Kentuckians embarking on their "Big Flying Machine Adventure." If you can envision a winged Walmart, you've got the idea. I got the the pleasure of sitting between two Good Ole Boys from central Kentucky. At least, I think that's where they were from. Even though I am a native speaker of English, I couldn't understand much of what they said due to their accents.

Redneck: Yew goan to Bottlemuh?
Me: Yes. (Just like everybody else on the plane, pigfucker.)
Redneck: Hew yew bakadul Bottlemuh shillter?
Me: Yes.

Apparently, his second question wasn't a yes or no question, because he gave me a strange look. I didn't elaborate, so our conversation was blissfully complete. I promptly went to sleep and awoke, during final approach to BWI, to the two rednecks conversing across me, while looking out the window winder at Baltimore city.

Redneck1: Lewk et all dem hooses so cloose to each udder.
Redneck2: Dats where de niggahs leeve. Ain't nudding but niggahs in der.
Redneck1: I hoop we aint goan in der.
Redneck2: We maght. We gunna go duntun Dursday.
Redneck1: I shood uv brut my niggahknocka wid me.
Redneck2: Laughter.

They said some other things that I couldn't make out, but, mercifully, the plane landed. I debarked and was able to snap a picture of one of them in baggage claim:

The costume also came with the obligatory cowboy boots and enormous belt buckle. With that get-up and their liberal use of the word "nigger," I am eagerly anticipating reading about them on Baltimore Crime.

* This is funnier for some of you than others, but how many of you scurried to the kitchen to to determine whether your maple syrup had been defiled?