Why Does A Northeastern Yankee like Myself Hold Such A Strong Bond With The South?
- Thread starter philly rabbit
- Start date
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
This post is just about the most awesome thing ever written on JPP.
In seven words, Billy has successfully outlined what it truly means to be Southern, and all without a Banjo! We now know where they inherited their taste for treason from, and why so many Loyalists existed in the Revolutionary South.
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
You know why you hate Germany?
It's because I'm self-hating. I actually do possess a little swag.
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
It's so disappointing being part German. If I could pick my European heritage, I would be either all Irish, or half Irish and either half Greek, French, or Russian. Fortunately, my German side has Native American, and my Slovenian ancestors were ethnic Greeks.
Billy the Great Khan
Uwaa OmO
Yup, being half Irish is pretty awesome, along with my Scottish, Russian, Norman, and Finnish heritage I also have some Prussian.
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
I'm only 1/4 Irish. Czech, German, Slovenian, Greek, and Menominee Native.
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
My Greek ancestors were forced out into Slovenia. While there, I think they also intermarried with displaced Northerners and with local Slovenes. They did maintain their Greek Orthodox faith rather than become Catholic, which my grandfather grew up as.
Mott the Hoople
Sweet Jane
Fuckin mutt!
Mott the Hoople
Sweet Jane
Wacko.....somewhere out there is a Native American shaking his head and thinking "I can't beleive we lost to these stupid fuckers!"
Mott the Hoople
Sweet Jane
Viva le France!!!!As Germany goes, so goes Europe.
Mott the Hoople
Sweet Jane
And Denmark too!!
Mott the Hoople
Sweet Jane
3D.....I'm impressed. I had no idea you could count that high!This post is just about the most awesome thing ever written on JPP.
In seven words, Billy has successfully outlined what it truly means to be Southern, and all without a Banjo! We now know where they inherited their taste for treason from, and why so many Loyalists existed in the Revolutionary South.
Billy the Great Khan
Uwaa OmO
Let us know when you can Ohioan.
Bullshit. 3-D. If you are not all Irish, you will pass for one well enough.
Believe me, I have two sons who are 1/2 Irish each.
philly rabbit
Verified User
Pegged pants .. wiggle your little ass for me, will you?
You got your tight pegged pants on .. your hands are stuffed in your front pockets .. you're a real "DUDE".
Pretend you're at a tailgate party now walk around and wiggle your little ass inside your pegged pants for me.
All the girlies with their tattoos think you're soooo hot ... whooooooo!
Billy the Great Khan
Uwaa OmO
What the fuck are pegged pants you bruncle and saunt fucker?
philly rabbit
Verified User
Yes I know I said that.
Are you a parrot?
Except the part about oppressing the Catholics because both sides were equally guilty in that centuries old confrontation.
My people weren't traitors, the Scots Irish fought in the American War for Independence. They've been here since long before America seceded from Great Britain. And there's no doubt in fact that it's a given that my blood line runs through many southerners. I no doubt have relatives in the south whom I'll never meet because of the Scottish clans that the English first strongly encouraged to leave then who migrated to Ulster County in Northern Ireland then eventually to America.
The progressive liberal attacks on this thread are very telling that progressives are blatant racists as they degrade my people with their racist, bigoted remarks which even lead by an administrator were against my own immediate family.
The south hating and the racism against my people, the mountain folk of the Scots Irish is born out of fear by the progressives of these people and their major region of settlement. They were and are a strict Calvinist Christian people and a fiercely independent people who were and remain always first to fight against any collectivist tyranny be it their legacy of taskmasters in England, their fierce resistance to the federal invasion of the south during the War For Southern Independence when my people suffered a 70% causality rate but still stood proud and tall at Appomattox during Lee's surrender or present day as they hold dearly to their right of gun ownership.
This is why liberals fear the south and my people and why their hate for my people is justified directly from that fear.
Last edited:
Although I agree with Rana, I'd say that bond is a shared ignorance, bigotry, and homophobia with the inbred, uneducated masses of white rednecks who frequent the cesspools of the south.
THE TEDDY ROOSEVELT CHINGADER'
The Challis National Forest was created July 1, 1908, by
Executive Order of President Theodore Roosevelt
Twenty Million years ago scientists tell us, three-toed
horses, camels, and possible rhinoceroses were plentiful
in this section of the country.
This is part of my history in the Challis National Forest.
We came over through Lowman after spending a little time
with my woman's Mormon relatives at McCall where we
learned about Spirit Prison and couldn't find Duck Lake.
I carried the baby up the mountain. The sign said 1 1/2
miles. There was a green sports car parked on the road.
We walked up the trail until we met a man with a green
sports car hat on and a girl in a light summer dress.
She had her dress rolled above her knees and when she
saw us coming, she rolled her dress down. The man had a
bottle of wine in his back pocket. The wine was in a long
green bottle. It looked funny sticking out of his back pocket.
How far is it to Spirit Prison?" I asked.
"You're about half way, " he said.
The girl smiled. She had blonde hair and they went on
down. Bounce, bounce bounce, like a pair of birthday balls,
down through the trees and boulders.
I put the baby down in a patch of snow lying in the hollow
behind a big stump. She played in the snow and then started
eating it. I remembered something from a book by Justice
of the Supreme Court, William O. Douglas. DON'T EAT
SNOW. IT'S BAD FOR YOU AND WILL GIVE YOU A STOMACH
ACHE.
"Stop eating that snow!" I said to the baby.
I put her on my shoulders and continued up the path toward
Spirit Prison. That's where everybody who isn't a Mormon
goes when they die. All Catholics, Buddhists, Moslems,
Jews, Baptists, Methodists and International Jewel Thieves.
Everybody who isn't a Mormon goes to the Spirit Slammer.
The sign said 1 1/2 miles. The path was easy to follow,
then it just stopped. We lost it near a creek. I looked all
around. I looked on both sides of the creek, but the path had
just vanished.
Could be the fact that we were still alive had something
to do with it. Hard to tell.
We turned around and started back down the mountain. The
baby cried when she saw the snow again, holding out her
hands for the snow. We didn't have time to stop. It was getting
late.
We got in our car and drove back to McCall. That evening
we talked about Communism. The Mormon girl read aloud to
us from a book called The Naked Communist written by an
ex-police chief of Salt Lake City.
My woman asked the girl if she believed the book were
written under the influence of Divine Power, if she considered
the book to be a religious text of some sort.
The girl said, "No."
I bought a pair of tennis shoes and three pairs of socks at
a store in McCall. The socks had a written guarantee. I tried
to save the guarantee, but I put it in my pocket and lost it.
The guarantee said that if anything happened to the socks
within three months time, I would get new socks. It seemed
like a good idea.
I was supposed to launder the old socks and send them in
with the guarantee. Right off the bat, new socks would be on
their way, traveling across America with my name on the
package. Then all I would have to do, would be to open the
package, take those new socks out and put them on. They
would look good on my feet.
I wish I hadn't lost that guarantee. That was a shame. I've
had to face the fact that new socks are not going to be a family
heirloom. Losing the guarantee took care of that. All future
generations are on their own.
We left McCall the next day, the day after I lost the sock
guarantee, following the muddy water of the North Fork of
the Payette down and the clear water of the South Fork up.
We stopped at Lowman and had a strawberry milkshake
and then drove back into the mountains along Clear Creek and
over the summit to Bear Creek
There were signs nailed to the trees all along Bear
Creek, the signs said, "IF YOU FISH IN THIS CREEK,
WE'LL HIT YOU IN THE HEAD." I didn't want to be hit in
the head, so I kept my fishing tackle right there in the car.
We saw a flock of sheep. There's a sound that the baby
makes when she sees furry animals. She also makes that
sound when she sees her mother and me naked. She made
that sound and we drove out of the sheep like an airplane
flies out of the clouds.
We entered Challis National Forest about five miles
away from that sound. Driving now along Valley Creek, we
saw the Sawtooth Mountains for the first time. It was clouding
over and we thought it was going to rain.
"Looks like it's raining in Stanley, " I said, though I had
never been in Stanley before. It is easy to say things about
Stanley when you have never been there. We saw the road to
Bull Trout Lake. The road looked good. When we reached
Stanley, the streets were white and dry like a collision at a
high rate of speed between a cemetery and a truck loaded
with sacks of flour.
We stopped at a store in Stanley. I bought a candy bar and
asked how the trout fishing was in Cuba. The woman at the
store said, "You're better off dead, you Commie bastard. "
I got a receipt for the candy bar to be used for income tax
purposes.
The old ten-cent deduction.
I didn't learn anything about fishing in that store. The
people were awfully nervous, especially a young man who
was folding overalls. He had about a hundred pairs left to
fold and he was really nervous.
We went over to a restaurant and I had a hamburger and
my woman had a cheeseburger and the baby ran in circles
like a bat at the World's Fair.
There was a girl there in her early teens or maybe she
was only ten years old. She wore lipstick and had a loud
voice and seemed to be aware of boys. She got a lot of fun
out of sweeping the front porch of the restaurant.
She came in and played around with the baby. She was
very good with the baby. Her voice dropped down and got
soft with the baby. She told us that her father'd had a heart
attack and was still in bed. "He can't get up and around, "
she said.
We had some more coffee and I thought about the Mormons.
That very morning we had said good-bye to them, after having
drunk coffee in their house.
The smell of coffee had been like a spider web in the
house. It had not been an easy smell. It had not lent itself to
religious contemplation, thoughts of temple work to be done
in Salt Lake, dead relatives to be discovered among ancient
papers in Illinois and Germany. Then more temple work to
be done in Salt Lake.
The Mormon woman told us that when she had been married
in the temple at Salt Lake, a mosquito had bitten her on
the wrist just before the ceremony and her wrist had swollen
up and become huge and just awful. It could've been seen
through the lace by a blindman. She had been so embarrassed.
She told us that those Salt Lake mosquitoes always made
her swell up when they bit her. Last year, she had told us,
she'd been in Salt Lake, doing some temple work for a dead
relative when a mosquito had bitten her and her whole body
had swollen up. "I felt so embarrassed, " she had told us.
"Walking around like a balloon. "
We finished our coffee and left. Not a drop of rain had fallen
in Stanley. It was about an hour before sundown.
We drove up to Big Redfish Lake, about four miles from
Stanley and looked it over. Big Redfish Lake is the Forest
Lawn of camping in Idaho, laid out for maximum comfort.
There were a lot of people camped there, and some of them
looked as if they had been camped there for a long time.
We decided that we were too young to camp at Big Redfish
Lake, and besides they charged fifty cents a day, three dollars
a week like a skidrow hotel, and there were just too
many people there. There were too many trailers and campers
parked in the halls. We couldn't get to the elevator because
there was a family from New York parked there in a
ten-room trailer.
Three children came by drinking rub-a-dub and pulling
an old granny by her legs. Her legs were straight out and
stiff and her butt was banging on the carpet. Those kids were
pretty drunk and the old granny wasn't too sober either, shouting
something like, "Let the Civil War come again, I'm ready
to fuck!"
We went down to Little Redfish Lake. The campgrounds
there were just about abandoned. There were so many people
up at Big Redfish Lake and practically nobody camping at
Little Redfish Lake, and it was free, too.
We wondered what was wrong with the camp. If perhaps
a camping plague, a sure destroyer that leaves all your
camping equipment, your car and your sex organs in tatters
like old sails, had swept the camp just a few days before,
and those few people who were staying at the camp now, were
staying there because they didn't have any sense.
We joined them enthusiastically. The camp had a beautiful
view of the mountains. We found a place that really looked
good, right on the lake.
Unit 4 had a stove. It was a square metal box mounted on
a cement block. There was a stove pipe on top of the box,
but there were no bullet holes in the pipe. I was amazed. Almost
all the camp stoves we had seen in Idaho had been full
of bullet holes. I guess it's only reasonable that people,
when they get the chance, would want to shoot some old stove
sitting in the woods.
Unit 4 had a big wooden table with benches attached to it
like a pair of those old Benjamin Franklin glasses, the ones
with those funny square lenses. I sat down on the left lens
facing the Sawtooth Mountains. Like astigmatism, I made
myself at home.
The Challis National Forest was created July 1, 1908, by
Executive Order of President Theodore Roosevelt
Twenty Million years ago scientists tell us, three-toed
horses, camels, and possible rhinoceroses were plentiful
in this section of the country.
This is part of my history in the Challis National Forest.
We came over through Lowman after spending a little time
with my woman's Mormon relatives at McCall where we
learned about Spirit Prison and couldn't find Duck Lake.
I carried the baby up the mountain. The sign said 1 1/2
miles. There was a green sports car parked on the road.
We walked up the trail until we met a man with a green
sports car hat on and a girl in a light summer dress.
She had her dress rolled above her knees and when she
saw us coming, she rolled her dress down. The man had a
bottle of wine in his back pocket. The wine was in a long
green bottle. It looked funny sticking out of his back pocket.
How far is it to Spirit Prison?" I asked.
"You're about half way, " he said.
The girl smiled. She had blonde hair and they went on
down. Bounce, bounce bounce, like a pair of birthday balls,
down through the trees and boulders.
I put the baby down in a patch of snow lying in the hollow
behind a big stump. She played in the snow and then started
eating it. I remembered something from a book by Justice
of the Supreme Court, William O. Douglas. DON'T EAT
SNOW. IT'S BAD FOR YOU AND WILL GIVE YOU A STOMACH
ACHE.
"Stop eating that snow!" I said to the baby.
I put her on my shoulders and continued up the path toward
Spirit Prison. That's where everybody who isn't a Mormon
goes when they die. All Catholics, Buddhists, Moslems,
Jews, Baptists, Methodists and International Jewel Thieves.
Everybody who isn't a Mormon goes to the Spirit Slammer.
The sign said 1 1/2 miles. The path was easy to follow,
then it just stopped. We lost it near a creek. I looked all
around. I looked on both sides of the creek, but the path had
just vanished.
Could be the fact that we were still alive had something
to do with it. Hard to tell.
We turned around and started back down the mountain. The
baby cried when she saw the snow again, holding out her
hands for the snow. We didn't have time to stop. It was getting
late.
We got in our car and drove back to McCall. That evening
we talked about Communism. The Mormon girl read aloud to
us from a book called The Naked Communist written by an
ex-police chief of Salt Lake City.
My woman asked the girl if she believed the book were
written under the influence of Divine Power, if she considered
the book to be a religious text of some sort.
The girl said, "No."
I bought a pair of tennis shoes and three pairs of socks at
a store in McCall. The socks had a written guarantee. I tried
to save the guarantee, but I put it in my pocket and lost it.
The guarantee said that if anything happened to the socks
within three months time, I would get new socks. It seemed
like a good idea.
I was supposed to launder the old socks and send them in
with the guarantee. Right off the bat, new socks would be on
their way, traveling across America with my name on the
package. Then all I would have to do, would be to open the
package, take those new socks out and put them on. They
would look good on my feet.
I wish I hadn't lost that guarantee. That was a shame. I've
had to face the fact that new socks are not going to be a family
heirloom. Losing the guarantee took care of that. All future
generations are on their own.
We left McCall the next day, the day after I lost the sock
guarantee, following the muddy water of the North Fork of
the Payette down and the clear water of the South Fork up.
We stopped at Lowman and had a strawberry milkshake
and then drove back into the mountains along Clear Creek and
over the summit to Bear Creek
There were signs nailed to the trees all along Bear
Creek, the signs said, "IF YOU FISH IN THIS CREEK,
WE'LL HIT YOU IN THE HEAD." I didn't want to be hit in
the head, so I kept my fishing tackle right there in the car.
We saw a flock of sheep. There's a sound that the baby
makes when she sees furry animals. She also makes that
sound when she sees her mother and me naked. She made
that sound and we drove out of the sheep like an airplane
flies out of the clouds.
We entered Challis National Forest about five miles
away from that sound. Driving now along Valley Creek, we
saw the Sawtooth Mountains for the first time. It was clouding
over and we thought it was going to rain.
"Looks like it's raining in Stanley, " I said, though I had
never been in Stanley before. It is easy to say things about
Stanley when you have never been there. We saw the road to
Bull Trout Lake. The road looked good. When we reached
Stanley, the streets were white and dry like a collision at a
high rate of speed between a cemetery and a truck loaded
with sacks of flour.
We stopped at a store in Stanley. I bought a candy bar and
asked how the trout fishing was in Cuba. The woman at the
store said, "You're better off dead, you Commie bastard. "
I got a receipt for the candy bar to be used for income tax
purposes.
The old ten-cent deduction.
I didn't learn anything about fishing in that store. The
people were awfully nervous, especially a young man who
was folding overalls. He had about a hundred pairs left to
fold and he was really nervous.
We went over to a restaurant and I had a hamburger and
my woman had a cheeseburger and the baby ran in circles
like a bat at the World's Fair.
There was a girl there in her early teens or maybe she
was only ten years old. She wore lipstick and had a loud
voice and seemed to be aware of boys. She got a lot of fun
out of sweeping the front porch of the restaurant.
She came in and played around with the baby. She was
very good with the baby. Her voice dropped down and got
soft with the baby. She told us that her father'd had a heart
attack and was still in bed. "He can't get up and around, "
she said.
We had some more coffee and I thought about the Mormons.
That very morning we had said good-bye to them, after having
drunk coffee in their house.
The smell of coffee had been like a spider web in the
house. It had not been an easy smell. It had not lent itself to
religious contemplation, thoughts of temple work to be done
in Salt Lake, dead relatives to be discovered among ancient
papers in Illinois and Germany. Then more temple work to
be done in Salt Lake.
The Mormon woman told us that when she had been married
in the temple at Salt Lake, a mosquito had bitten her on
the wrist just before the ceremony and her wrist had swollen
up and become huge and just awful. It could've been seen
through the lace by a blindman. She had been so embarrassed.
She told us that those Salt Lake mosquitoes always made
her swell up when they bit her. Last year, she had told us,
she'd been in Salt Lake, doing some temple work for a dead
relative when a mosquito had bitten her and her whole body
had swollen up. "I felt so embarrassed, " she had told us.
"Walking around like a balloon. "
We finished our coffee and left. Not a drop of rain had fallen
in Stanley. It was about an hour before sundown.
We drove up to Big Redfish Lake, about four miles from
Stanley and looked it over. Big Redfish Lake is the Forest
Lawn of camping in Idaho, laid out for maximum comfort.
There were a lot of people camped there, and some of them
looked as if they had been camped there for a long time.
We decided that we were too young to camp at Big Redfish
Lake, and besides they charged fifty cents a day, three dollars
a week like a skidrow hotel, and there were just too
many people there. There were too many trailers and campers
parked in the halls. We couldn't get to the elevator because
there was a family from New York parked there in a
ten-room trailer.
Three children came by drinking rub-a-dub and pulling
an old granny by her legs. Her legs were straight out and
stiff and her butt was banging on the carpet. Those kids were
pretty drunk and the old granny wasn't too sober either, shouting
something like, "Let the Civil War come again, I'm ready
to fuck!"
We went down to Little Redfish Lake. The campgrounds
there were just about abandoned. There were so many people
up at Big Redfish Lake and practically nobody camping at
Little Redfish Lake, and it was free, too.
We wondered what was wrong with the camp. If perhaps
a camping plague, a sure destroyer that leaves all your
camping equipment, your car and your sex organs in tatters
like old sails, had swept the camp just a few days before,
and those few people who were staying at the camp now, were
staying there because they didn't have any sense.
We joined them enthusiastically. The camp had a beautiful
view of the mountains. We found a place that really looked
good, right on the lake.
Unit 4 had a stove. It was a square metal box mounted on
a cement block. There was a stove pipe on top of the box,
but there were no bullet holes in the pipe. I was amazed. Almost
all the camp stoves we had seen in Idaho had been full
of bullet holes. I guess it's only reasonable that people,
when they get the chance, would want to shoot some old stove
sitting in the woods.
Unit 4 had a big wooden table with benches attached to it
like a pair of those old Benjamin Franklin glasses, the ones
with those funny square lenses. I sat down on the left lens
facing the Sawtooth Mountains. Like astigmatism, I made
myself at home.
Cancel 2016.11
Darla
"There were signs nailed to the trees all along Bear
Creek, the signs said, "IF YOU FISH IN THIS CREEK,
WE'LL HIT YOU IN THE HEAD." I didn't want to be hit in
the head, so I kept my fishing tackle right there in the car."
I love this stuff!
Creek, the signs said, "IF YOU FISH IN THIS CREEK,
WE'LL HIT YOU IN THE HEAD." I didn't want to be hit in
the head, so I kept my fishing tackle right there in the car."
I love this stuff!