Oh, and it was going so well. I’d met the gentleman two weekends ago, and we were sending emails back and forth in the burgeoning new friendship kind of way.
Then he makes some crack about basements in his neck of the woods being full of rednecks.
I shoot back, “What’s wrong with rednecks?”
He comes back with this… screed. That’s all I can call it, it’s seriously 300 words long. Rednecks like NASCAR and cheap beer and country music and beating their wives and are all members of white supremicist groups.
It’s too early in the morning for blatant racisim and classisim.
So, I replied back:
Let’s start the introductions over again. My name is Mary Sue, and I drove a pickup truck with a gun rack to high school.