Sunday, July 06, 2008

Another Guest Shot By Barnie Day

My regular readers have most likely noticed I'm off on another of my periods when I seldom write anything. It doesn't mean I don't want to write, but writing is a lot like sex. It takes more than simply wanting to in order to get around to actually doing it.

One of my dream jobs would be to write for a newspaper, but an editor would insist that I actually do it—write, that is—all the time.

In a way I do, though. I write at least one article a day for this site. In my head. While I'm thinking, or maybe pondering is a better word, about the state of our Union and Virginia. Or our local community. But what I write up there seldom reaches the level of competency that I place on myself. Perhaps, if I made myself sit down at a keyboard and work the roughness off the words I've head-composed, I could put up an article a day. I'll work on that. At least an article a week. I promise.

In the meantime, as Rocky used to say to Bullwinkle, "Here's something you'll really like."

Barnie Day, former Delegate, former SCC judge candidate, and current farm-pond fisherman and banker from Meadows of Dan, has managed to sum up the upcoming Presidential race. Those of us who think politics all day, everyday, have known this all along. It takes the writing skills of one much more disciplined than I to put it so succinctly.
Bubba Believes In Religion
(and other true facts)

B. K. Day

Bubba doesn’t write checks, or use ATMs. Bubba’s ol’ lady keeps up with the money. Bubba prefers folding, front pocket whip-out.

Bubba doesn’t send emails. He owns a cell phone, but he only uses it during deer season. He doesn’t own a Blackberry. Bubba likes blackberry cobbler.

Bubba doesn’t wear Crocs, or cook with olive oil. Or balsamic vinegar. Bubba doesn’t peel his tomatoes.

Bubba doesn’t think men ought to marry men, or women women. He’s got a cousin who’s a little bit light in the loafers, but everybody knows that’s ‘cause his mama let him put on lipstick and play dress-up when he was little.

Bubba might call his mother-in-law by her first name, and he might not. It depends on whether or not she’s still alive. When he’s just thinking about her, the b-word rises in his mind.

Bubba thought a lot of Jesse Helms. He wouldn’t vote for Hillary if she was the last man on earth—and not just because of the fat ankles. Bubba never had trouble with fat ankles. His mama and his sister and his wife have them. Too bad about ol’ Jesse.

Bubba doesn’t shop. His ol’ lady buys his clothes for him—she knows what to get—he likes logos and decals. Anything else he needs, his sister orders it from Cabella’s on her credit card and Bubba gives her the money from his whip-out.

Bubba knows some good minorities. He works with a few of them. The ones he knows are alright. He don’t trust the rest of them—and he don’t like it when they marry Americans. Bubba thinks folks ought to marry their own kind.

Bubba will lie to a pollster. It’s none of their damn business. He don’t like McCain, or Obama, neither, but he’ll probably vote. He just ain’t decided how yet. Not for certain. McCain’s ol’ lady’s just got too much money. He wishes Dale, Jr. would run.

Bubba don’t like banks or insurance companies. He thinks they’re all sonsofbitches. He don’t like preachers, neither. He thinks most of them are sonsofibtches, too—except the ones he knows.

Bubba believes in religion. He thinks everybody ought to believe in something, but he don’t get too tangled up in the details. Bubba thinks religions are all about the same when it comes right down to it—except for the Jews and the Catholics and the Muslims, the Lutherans, the Episcowhatyoucallems, and them high and mighty Presbyterians. And a ‘nother thang—he don’t trust them churches that run off good preachers every four years. Or them you have to go to on Saturdays. Or them that call the head man anything besides ‘preacher.’

Bubba thinks we ought to bomb the hell out of whoever is making gas go to four dollars a gallon.

Bubba doesn’t have a garden. Bubba’s got a garden-spot. He puts out beans, and taters and such.

Bubba doesn’t play golf. He sights in his blackpowder on the weekends. He’ll go to Myrtle Beach for a day or two, just to shut his ol’ lady up, but he prefers Buggs Island.

Bubba has never paid someone to change his oil. Bubba doesn’t have a job that pays mileage reimbursement.

Bubba drinks—a little—on the weekends—mostly beer. If he’s got a bottle of Old Crow—and he does—it’s in the tool box in the back of his truck. He’d drink water out of a mudhole before he would a glass of wine.

Bubba used to smoke—and he still does when his ol’ lady ain’t around—too much chin music now—but not in the house—out in his shop where he keeps his stuff.

Bubba ain’t had a physical in years—if he had insurance, they wouldn’t cover it, the sonsofbitches. Besides that, Bubba don’t like rubber gloves.

Bubba don’t worry about physicals. Bubba knows none of us get out of this alive—we all got to go sometime.

Bubba doesn’t know what “empowered” means. Bubba doesn’t know what “empowered” feels like, and hasn’t thought about it. Bubba doesn’t know his time has come.

Bubba doesn’t know what a “swing” voter is. He doesn’t know that’s what he is.

Bubba doesn’t know he’s going to elect the next President.

Barnie doesn't mention it, but there are two Bubbas in this land. Each alike as Barnie describes them, yet totally opposite in a more important way.

Bubba One is a Demmycrat. Daddy was a Demmycrat, Granddaddy was a Demmycrat, Great-Granddaddy was a Demmycrat, and by-cracky he'll always vote Demmycrat for their sake if no other.

Bubba Two claims no political affiliation. He votes for the candidate that best fits his conservative ideals, which means he most often votes Republican. Oh, sure, he voted for Virgil "back then" and still does, because he can count on Virgil to stand on those conservative principles. He did "back then", he does so now.

Here's where the problem comes in;

Bubba One, the Demmycrat for tradition's sake, will have a real hard time voting for "that-black-muslim-guy-with-the-funny-name"*. After all, southern Democrats fought civil rights tooth and nail for years. His Daddy did. His Granddaddy did, his Great-Granddaddy did. In short, he's conflicted.

Bubba Two, on the other hand, has always had a real hard line conservative to choose from. A conservative who has shown a real belief in smaller government, less intrusion into his private life, and the ideal that all men are created equal. He will have a hard time with the guy who has consistently tweaked the Republican party's nose, fought for and passed needless intrusion into Bubba's right to contribute his whip-out to the candidate of his choice, and has expressed a desire to immunize those who are currently in the country illegally.

With Obama scrambling toward the right, even loosening his stance on keeping troops in Iraq, Bubba One is starting to wonder...

With McCain lurching leftward, even denouncing oil exploration in areas previously deemed OK for drilling, Bubba Two is starting to wonder...

* I know he's not really Muslim, but he is perceived to be by many Bubbas.

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