The Redneck Guide to Raisin' Children

by Annie Smith

  In the chore jar, put one slip that says “reroof the house” or “pave the driveway.” Pretty soon all your kids will gladly volunteer for chores.

  Don’t feel bad about putting your young’uns to work. One of these days they’ll have lazy families of their own and will thank you for teaching them how to motivate their kids.

  Passing Out in Front of the Kids

  This is downright embarrassing and hard to explain. If you say, “Daddy’s asleep,” there’s always one young’un who’ll shoot back, “Why’s he sleeping on the picnic table when it’s rainin’, and why’s his false teeth in the grass?”

  It’s better to just tell them the truth. Once they realize their pa is dead drunk and threw up three hot dogs before passing out, maybe they’ll think twice about boozing it up when they get older.

  The Boogeyman: Parents’ Best Friend

  If the fear of a whuppin’ won’t keep your kids from acting up, you can always fall back on their fear of the boogeyman.

  Every little child believes there’s a monster hiding under the bed, in the closet, or somewhere just outside the bedroom.

  They all imagine it as a big black demon with no real shape—kinda bloblike—and they know it’s just waiting for Mama and Daddy to go to sleep so it can EAT ALL THE KIDS IN THE HOUSE!

  Tell your young’uns that if they’re good, they’ve got nothing to worry about because good kids taste awful to the boogeyman.

  But if they’re bad, you’ll unlock the bedroom window and help the bad ol’ boogeyman come inside.

  That might sound cruel to certain folks, but now and then you’ve got to be mean and nasty parents to help your kids grow up decent. The end justifies the meanness.

  When you talk to your young’uns about the boogeyman, be sure to call him exactly that. Don’t follow the new “politically correct” trend of calling the monster the “boogeyperson.”

  If the boogeyman is too terrifying to your brood, you can always tell them he’s just make-believe. But quickly warn them that other evil creatures are waiting in the night to snatch them.

  The Haunted Pillow Caper

  In Chicken Neck, parents’ number-two choice for kid scaring is a weird thing that first showed itself down at the feather pillow factory.

  Twenty years ago, the workers there were dumbfounded when pillows suddenly started leaping off the assembly line and bouncing off the walls, as though throwed by an unseen hand.

  Some pillow stitchers seated beside the assembly line were hit smack in the face by pillows that busted open and sent up clouds of chicken feathers. The women jumped up and ran screaming out of the building, literally scared sitless.

  After a week of these crazy happenings, the factory was knee-deep in chicken feathers. The owner called in Reverend Joshua Boatwright to do an exorcism, and everything returned to normal after the pastor said his piece.

  Reverend Boatwright decided the strange events were the work of a poultrygeist.

  Ever since then, when local youngsters act up at bedtime, their parents sneak and throw a pillow into the room, then yell, “Better get in bed, kids—the poultrygeist is coming!”

  Works every time.

  Give ’Em That Old-Time Religion

  To keep your young’uns on the right track, expose them to God early in life.

  Drag the whole brood to church at least once a week and make them memorize two or three Bible passages a month. If they don’t do it, don’t let them watch Walker, Texas Ranger.

  To emphasize how important it is for your children to attend services, drive them by the local church where there’s usually a sign outside that says:

  CH_____CH

  What’s Missing?

  Make your kids come up with the correct answer, which is:

  UR

  Which is redneck shorthand for “yoU aRe,” and supplies the answer:

  CHURCH

  If your kids get the answer wrong—guessing such things as “couch” or “Chuck Barris”—make ’em sit there in the car until they get it right. Even if it takes hours. Figuring out religious sayings will make a big impact on children.

  Picking the Right Church

  Most of our neighbors go to the Baptist or Holiness churches. But as your young’uns get older, let them choose which denomination they want to cozy up to.

  Remember, it’s not important what kind of church your kids attend. What’s important is that they go and go until religion is drilled into their very souls.

  You’ll know they’re religious enough when they start seeing images of our Lord Jesus everywhere—on schoolhouse walls, on cakes of cornbread, and even inside dirty commodes.

  We figure all denominations are doing good work as long as they keep your kids from straying down the wrong path.

  Why, we wouldn’t even object if our children decided to go to a snake-handling church. These are the believers who carry snakes around during services to prove their faith in God. They figure the Lord will keep them from getting bit.

  Our oldest boy, Wimpy, used to go to a little country church whose members badly wanted to handle snakes but apparently didn’t have enough faith. So they became worm handlers.

  These folks let big night crawlers wiggle around in their hands while they shouted at the top of their lungs, “Praise the Lord! Praise Jesus!!”

  But four years ago the worm-handling church shut down when somebody stole all their sacred crawlers out of the holy worm box on the altar—interestingly enough, right at the start of bass season.

  Even though Sheriff Gardner used be a Green Beret soldier, he never did solve the shocking crime or recover the loot. The sheriff said he figured them church worms had been “baptized with extreme prejudice.”

  The heartbroke congregation never reopened their church. Most people in town agreed it wasn’t no big loss, except maybe during fishing season.

  Give Us This Day Our Daily Cornbread

  When we were growing up, we were taught to always kneel beside the bed and say our prayers before going to sleep.

  But these days, a lot of kids never get on their knees except when they’re shooting dice in the alley or looking under a video game machine for lost quarters.

  If you want to raise good kids, teach them to pray properly.

  For quite a while, our second oldest son, Beano, prayed for a new bicycle. He didn’t get it, and finally one Sunday he asked Reverend Joshua Boatwright why God wasn’t answering his prayers.

  The pastor just smiled and explained that God is on a different plane.

  Beano piped up, “Well, no wonder He didn’t hear me—them planes is noisy!”

  Although Rufus McKinney insists the One True God is Richard Petty, we believe everybody’s got a right to worship the ditty of their choice.

  Skinny-dipping during Baptism

  Redneck kids love to swim naked in the river or lake, so naturally they’ll beg to do the same when they get baptized. Don’t let them do it.

  Baptism is a solemn occasion. They ought to at least wear shorts or panties. And don’t let ’em take along inner tubes, rubber ducks, or snorkels. The Lord might take offense and burn their naked butts with a lightning bolt!

  Speaking in Unknown Tongues

  In some redneck churches, worshipers get gripped by the spirit of Jesus and start shouting in a language nobody understands. This is a phenomenon that can send more chills down your spine than walking barefoot to the outhouse in winter.

  We’ve even seen little bitty kids speak in unknown tongues. We figure anything that keeps children in church and out of trouble is a good thing, so don’t discourage your young’uns if they want to try their hand at it.

  You never can predict when the “unknown tongues” phenomenon will strike.

  One night during services down at the First Church of Our Precious Jesus Christ in His Holy Name, a man jumped out of his seat at the back of the church and started babbling in an unknown tongue. The congregation gathered around him and started shouting and touching hi
m all over, so happy to see somebody moved by the Lord in their midst.

  But the man turned out to be a lost Finnish tourist named Olli who was frantically trying to get directions out of town.

  Say Hello to Hell

  Every child should be taught about hell.

  If one of your young’uns scorches her hand on the stove, smear some salve on it and then turn the experience into a Bible lesson. Tell her she’d better live decent or else she’s liable to burn a lot worse in fire and brimstone one of these days.

  Chicken Neck’s parents have always taught their kids to fear hell. As a result we’ve got a lot of grown kids so scared of Satan that they won’t even buy 6-6-6 fertilizer.

  Although nobody knows what hell is really like, we believe it’s a lot like Los Angeles—except hell has more movie stars.

  Honky-tonk Survival Skills

  When the jukebox starts blaring and the beer starts flowing, a honky-tonk can become one of the most hazardous places on earth. Some decorated war heroes start shaking and crying when told they have to go into a redneck bar.

  As your boys and girls get older, don’t let ’em set foot near a honky-tonk until they learn the proper ways to act around a crowd of rowdy beer drinkers:

  • If a big galoot is in line behind you at the jukebox, turn around and say, “Hey, buddy, what do you want to hear?” You’ll save him a quarter and make a friend who just might save your neck when brawls break out later in the evening.

  • Always stay alert for flying beer bottles and jars of pig’s feet off the bar.

  • Keep a close eye on the floor as you walk, or else you’ll fall. The combination of sloshed beer and peanut shells is the world’s slipperiest stuff. We suspect it’s how the ancient Egyptians moved them big pyramid stones across the desert.

  • Boys should never say “Hi, there” to any girl whose boyfriend is named “Snake.” Especially if he’s using a Harley-Davidson sprocket chain for a belt.

  You also should be cautious if the boyfriend’s got skinny legs. He’s sure to be wearing sharp-pointed boots for defense. Some rednecks’ metal-tipped boots are so sharp, they cut holes in the floorboards of their pickup trucks.

  • Girls should never flirt with any man whose girlfriend is twice her size and has three chins.

  Be extra careful if the fat girlfriend appears to be wearing Vanderbilt jeans, but a closer inspection shows the label actually reads Peterbilt.

  And quickly move to the other side of the bar if you notice the big-butted gal has a warning device on her rear end that goes “beep, beep, beep” when she backs up.

  • When talking to good of boys at the bar, mutter “Hell, yeah” and “I heard that” after everything they say.

  • Never carry on a conversation unless you’ve got a toothpick between your teeth or a cigarette dangling out of the side of your mouth. It ain’t good manners.

  • Never do the three-step in a Texas bar.

  • Wear a football mouth guard on Saturday nights, when barroom brawls are more apt to break out. You’ll have to sip your beer through a straw, but it’s better than buying new teeth.

  • If everybody’s watching the Nebraska-Florida football game on TV, don’t ask the bartender to please turn it to the Princeton-Yale game.

  Entering the Outside World

  Rufus McKinney wouldn’t live outside of Chicken Neck if you gave him a mansion in Malibu. He likes the simple country life and hates most modern gadgets.

  When he finally broke down and bought a VCR to baby-sit his kids, we were downright amazed. But he explained: “I figured it was time to move into the twentieth century.”

  That’s about as far as he moved. Next to the VCR, the newest thing in his house is a fifty-year-old Motorola radio—still tuned to the station that put on Ted Mack’s Original Amateur Hour.

  Every now and then, Rufus flips on the radio to see if ol’ Ted is back.

  Rufus wouldn’t buy a fancy new car even if the Jaguar people held a “buy one, get one free” sale. He’s still waiting for Detroit to bring back the Hudson—and swears they’re gonna do it, too.

  His method of living in the past might sound attractive to some people fed up with the hustle and bustle of the modern world. But let us tell you: America’s “good old days” also had plenty of problems, including polio, no air-conditioning, and practically no stock car racing on television.

  Sure, they had heroes like John Wayne and Gary Cooper. But we’ve got Chuck Norris and Alan Autry.

  The best way to prepare your kids for entering today’s modern society is to let ’em watch plenty of TV.

  They’ll learn all about the crime, wars, and other problems all over the world—and once they see that, odds are they’ll decide to keep their little butts right where they grew up.

  How to Act like a Redneck

  Inside every human being there’s a little redneck trying to get out. Become an accomplice in the escape by training your kids so they’ll be full-fledged rednecks when they grow up:

  If you say you’re going to do something for somebody, do it. In the redneck nation, a man’s word is his bond. We suspect Nike got that Just Do It slogan when one of their salesmen heard it while passing through redneck country.

  Southern redneck kids should practice saying “Hell, yeah,” “Ah heard that,” and “You durn tootin’!” These are basic phrases in the rebel redneck’s vocabulary—part of a special ethnic language called “rebonics.”

  Always refer to the Civil War as “the Wah of North’un Aggression.”

  Never drive a van unless it’s one you use on the job. Van people won’t be accepted in redneck society unless they’re carpenters, carpet layers, air-conditioning repairmen, and the like.

  Van drivers also are required under international redneck rules to keep their van cluttered inside with tools, job materials, RC cans, empty gallon jugs, old fast-food wrappers, and wadded-up cigarette packs. If an inspector stops your van and any of these items are missing, it’s a hundred-dollar fine per item.

  The rear bumper of a pickup truck must have a college football team sticker on it. These can range from UCLA to Nebraska to Tennessee to Texas A & M.

  Don’t get caught with a Brown or Berkeley sticker on your truck. You’ll be stripped naked, driven to the outskirts of town, and told to start walking any direction but south.

  Rednecks keep their tanks FULL during the races

  Plaster your truck with bumper stickers like: I FIGHT POVERTY—I WORK; FIGHT CRIME: SHOOT FIRST; PASS WITH CAUTION: DRIVER CHEWING RED MAN; NO EXCUSES—JUST BUCKLE UP YOUR PANTS; and ASK ME ABOUT MY ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN.

  On the rear window put a radio station sticker—WRED if you can get it—plus NASCAR, NHRA, and National Rifle Association stickers. If your truck’s a Ford, add a decal showing Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes) peeing on a Chevy emblem.

  Other rear-window favorites on redneck vehicles: the American flag, Budweiser stickers, and Chuck Norris for President stickers.

  If you live in the South, put a rebel flag plate on the front of your truck. We know it ain’t politically correct, but rednecks never have given a durn for politics.

  When your truck bed rusts and falls off, replace it with a black elastic net. Don’t be a cheapo and just stretch a woman’s old pair of black net stockings across the bed.

  Put a long toolbox in the back of your truck, directly behind the rear window. This has a double purpose: If a relative dies and you’re flat broke, you can use the toolbox as a coffin.

  * * *

  Five Ways Rednecks Say “I’m Sorry”

  1. “Well, ya know how I am when I git drunk.”

  2. “Din’t know she was yore wife.”

  3. “Glad it’s only a flesh wound.”

  4. “Here, buddy—have the rest o’ my beer.”

  5. “I’ll mow the yard tomorrow, honey.”

  * * *

  Beer: It’s Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

  After Wiley Watkins chopped down six mailb
oxes while driving to work with a hangover, he stopped washing down his ham and eggs with “the hair of the dog that bit him.”

  Now Wiley won’t touch a beer after midnight, and he ain’t had any further accidents. Anybody can benefit from his example.

  Warn your grown kids that when they leave the honky-tonk, make sure they’re not too drunk to drive. If they’re sloshed, tell them to hitch a ride with a sober buddy—or else they could end up buried in a truck toolbox.

  How to Beat Procrastination

  Well, we finally got around to writing this chapter.

  Most kids would rather put off until tomorrow what they ought to do today, whether it’s picking up their clothes or washing the dog. Don’t let that happen.

  Tell your young’uns they can’t leave the house or turn on the TV until they’ve done what they’re supposed to do. And stick to your guns, because this is real important.

  We admit that procrastination is a hard habit to break. Our boy Wimpy’s been trying to break it for years and still can’t get anything done on time.

  Annie even went over to the county library and got Wimpy a book on beating procrastination called Just DO IT, You Lazy Little Twerp. Now the book is six months overdue and he still ain’t read a word.

  Uncle Billy’s even worse. His procrastination is so bad that he actually applied for a government disability check, claiming he couldn’t work because his “problem” kept him from ever showing up for job interviews.

  The clerk seriously considered putting him on the disability rolls—probably figuring Billy would never get around to cashing his monthly check anyway.