Lord in Heaven! Here we go again. Can't you southern folk have a nice time with each other without grumbling about yankees? Like as not, you don't even know any yankees, as the real ones are all up here.
Right now, we're busy pulling most of the lobster pots out of the water and moving the rest inshore 'cause its getting too cold to fish. We're finishing up splittin' wood and raking leaves - it was 22 degrees this morning. Its time for mending nets, reproofing jackets and pulling the Irish wool sweaters out of the winter clothes boxes. Community turkey shoots are in full swing. Deer season (archery) is almost over here in Connecticut, but shotgun season starts up in four days, so many of us spent some time at the range shooting slugs this past weekend. My good wife made a wicked good chowder on Saturday night from quahogs that the boys raked out of the flats on Saturday morning. Bone warmin' good.
We real Yankees have no reason to envy you southern folk for your weather, your food, your women or your fried cornmeal balls (what the hell are you thinking? you actually brag about cornmeal balls?). Don't confuse real Yankees with the transplanted metrosexual opportunists that have infested your lands. You should have done something about the zoning laws and voter eligibility requirements when they first started showing up - 138 years ago, when they were known as carpetbaggers.