E-REDNECK WOMAN DOT COM
BJ, proprietor of Bubba’s Bait, Boats and Wrecks, called to talk
about the local happenings in Jones
County,
On the way to church last Sunday Aunt Eula backed over one of her yard hens. It upset her so much that she asked the preacher to remember her chicken in his prayers. There’s surely nothing wrong with Aunt Eula bringing this poor chicken’s unfortunate circumstances to the Almighty’s attention, but remember that she fries up a chicken most every Sunday and thanks God mightily just before diving in.
BJ is confident that along with Junior, Henry and Edsel and their substantial number of coon dogs they could help Obama find Osama after getting just one good sniff of his clothing. It seems to me that if Osama’s been in those caves for as long as we think, you wouldn’t have to get very close to catch a whiff of his clothes. If I miss a shower people hold their noses. (Fortunately since this was written Osama has been found and dispatched without BJ's help.)
Then BJ suggested that Obama’s health care plan wasn’t getting much support from the bunch down at Frank’s Biscuit Heaven and even suggested it might be nice to turn on the TV without seeing him, at least for a day or two. BJ and the boys have been eating Frank’s biscuits and gravy with sausage and eggs for quite some time and they are convinced it is the reason they are the picture of health. Last I remember Henry couldn’t see his belt and Edsel was wearing Velcro shoes because bending over to tie them made him light headed; but I could be wrong.
Of course no call from BJ would be complete without at least one suggestion on how to get rich. BJ is, in all candor, the person responsible for suggesting Bubba’s Psychic Hotline. We’ve pretty much missed the boat on that one. He still laments the fact that he didn’t have a garage to work on computers like Bill Gates. Who knew that you couldn’t work on computer chips in a chicken house? I think it has to do with the substantial amount of dust chickens flap up and not the occasional need to get rid of a chicken snake.
His new idea stems from all the advertisements on television and radio about finding your spouse on the Internet. They always are something like; “I found my wife on e-matrimony dot com.” BJ thinks that getting more specific in the type of spouse you are looking for would be a real money maker.
He suggests companion web sites with one titled “e-redneck woman dot com.” The ads will have a man with a rather pronounced rural accent saying, “I got my wife on e-redneck woman dot com. She can name every Hank Williams Jr. song ever recorded, has a 167 bowling average, can fry up ever kind of animal I kill and smokes off-brand cigarettes.”
Of course the other site would be titled, “e-redneck man dot com.” We hear a twangy woman’s voice, “I got my husband on e-redneck man dot com. He drives a new pickup, let me quit my night job, and promised to stop drinking beer on Sundays.” Now there’s a couple of happy campers.
BJ may be ahead of his time, though given the tendency of
every type of service to specialize, maybe not too far. How about, “e-big haired woman dot com” or “e-portly
woman dot com” where
