Redneck nation was in full effect this weekend in South Florida, as 99.9 KISS Countr
y was nice enough to throw their 21st annual Chili Cook-Off at CB Smith Park in Pembroke Pines. If I ever complained about there being a lack of white people in South Florida, I really should have rephrased that. There is a shortage of white people in Dade County. Broward is as redneck as they come. This became quite evident as the Country Music luminaries of Gretchen Wilson and Keith Urban descended upon a park full of 30,000 screaming rednecks. Of course, taking me to a concert featuring the CMA Male and Female vocalists of the year would be like taking someone from MIssissippi to Ultra
. “Any a these guys do any ackshul singin’? All it looks to me is thar plan’ a buncha records. Sounds lahk mah kid on his dag-gum casio.” I digress. The point is I was less interested in the music than the throngs of scantily clad white girls running around drunk off of Coors Light.
There is apparently a new-ish trend among redneck girls (and I do
love redneck girls. I want to marry one) of having leather belts with their names engraved in the back. This, I believe, was developed so that they could figure out which men they talk to can actually read before going any further. I suppose this is a serious problem in many parts of the South. One particular girl with “Mandy” etched on her waistline below a tattoo of something involving the Stars and Bars, had on a T-shirt that I wanted to read.
It was emblazoned with the Rebel flag and had some long diatribe that began “I salute the flag of the southern states…blah,blah,blah,” and was very hard to read in my chili-and-beer induced stupor. So one of my friends and I stopped her to read her shirt, and as we did, my friend took a liking to her chubby little friend. I, being the good wingman that I am, figured I would make conversation with this pock-marked, yellow-toothed Broward County Beauty. How bad could it be?
“I like your shirt,” I told her, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, I fucking hate black people,” she replied. Wow. Okay. This effectively ruined the “Heritage Not Hate” conversation I was about to spark up.
“Yeah, I think we should just string ‘em all up from trees. It’s funny, too, because among my friends they all know I am like the biggest racist on earth, but for some reason black guys just keep coming up to me. And I tell them ‘Look, I fucking hate all y’all black people’ and they still stick around. Good thing I know all the bouncers at Round Up
(the local country bar and site of the official Chili Cook-off “Pre-Party”). Last night this one guy was all up on me and Larry, the bouncer? well, he’s a cop too, and he says, ‘Mandy, you want me to arrest this nigger or string him up from a tree?’ I said, ‘Larry, you know if it was up to me I’d have his ass swingin’ from that pine tree in a heartbeat, but you’re a cop so you gotta arrest him.’” WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU SAY TO THAT!!???
I paused for a minute, looked over at my friend who was now dancing with his little butterball, and knew I’d have to somehow continue to engage this bastion of tolerance.
“So, ah, do you go to Round Up much?”
“That’s the only goddam club I go to. The rest are fulla spics and black people (oddly enough, I never heard this girl use the word “nigger”). I been there Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. I told you, I know everybody in there.”
“So you’re from Lauderdale?”
“Yep. Born and raised. My family been down here for four generations. I was raised in a real white supremacist house. Like, my daddy was in the Klan, my granddaddy was in the Klan, and his daddy was in the Klan too. I’m fourth generation Klan.”
Hmmm, now may not be the best time to mention that I’m Jewish. I was scouring my brain for an appropriate response and all I could manage was;
“Really? I did this report when I was in school about a lynching in Ft. Lauderdale in the 30’s. Were they involved?” She didn’t know. She asked me where I was from. I told her I lived in Miami.
“Damn, y’all live all the way down there and you come all the way up here? For what?”
“We like white girls,” I replied. Which is true. But I guess the old adage is true about too much of a good thing. Apparently it does get worse than the spoiled Jewish/Cuban girls you find in Miami. Of course, I don't think I'll be going out on any dates with Klu Klux Mandy.
Perhaps I’ll see her again when we go to Round Up on Thursday for line dancing lessons. Althgouh secretly, I'm kind of scared she'll learn my last name and ask Larry to string me up from the pine tree in the fornt. I will keep y’all posted on how this venture goes. I am not exactly Fred Astair, hell, I’m not even Fred Flintstone when it comes to dancing, but I am eager to learn. Should be entertaining.