Southerners Know How to React

What cartoon was that? I remember it but I don't know the name. It's obviously a Hanna-Barbera toon, though.

And the horse you rode in on.

And anyone who remotely resembles you.

Another good bumper sticker I've seen here in NC:

WELCOME TO THE SOUTH...NOW GO HOME!!

Ten paces, two paces, you are safe from me. I couldn't hit a barn with a howitzer at 10 feet.

How 'bout from the INside? (that's what my dad says about a really bad shot - "He couldn't hit a barn from the INside.")

I think it was called the hillbilly bears. It was pretty funny. It had a daisy duke type bear as the sister. Or was it cousin..or both. LOL

LOL. I'll have to add that to the line. If I ever have to defiend myself I'm gonna have to scare them to death!

The Santee Chronicles
Damn Yankees
The amount of empty flat land here has no end. All of it is of course (at least according to the local Realtors) is “near the water”. Lakes Marion and Moultrie cover an area 50 miles by 10 or so and have many coves and inlets. Every piece of the land “near the water” sells at a premium especially if you are a dumb “damn Yankee” because it is “near the water” and scarce (at least according to the Realtors). Most if not all of this scarce land is for sale, but most of it is empty, and it is scarce of course, because the Realtors say it is. People buy lots close to but not on the water so they “can avoid the possibility of storm damage from the lake, but they want to use the lake so they feel they need to be close to the lake but not on the lake. They buy land for example maybe one lot over from the lake. That’s not far you say. True, but to put your boat on the lake you need to transport it to the lake. For this you need a trailer and….. Here our tale begins……..

The De-Yankification of Rene
Rene has been in Santee for several years. He is a “damn Yankee” from NJ. He came here to retire even though he did not fish, boat, nor play golf. He also hates the heat and humidity both of which are in ample supply in Santee, South Carolina. He of course bought property near Lake Marion but not on it. The asking price for the house was over 100 grand. His Realtor of course said it was a good buy since land near the water is so scarce and this land had a house on it and was not empty like the other ”scarce” land near the lake. His Realtor told that he could probably get it for less then 100 grand since the seller was another “damn Yankee” who no longer enjoyed Santee. (Probably because of the heat and humidity) It was a good “buy” at that price (at least according to his Realtor). Rene not very knowledgeable of the scarcity of the land in Santee, nor excessively interested in that particular house and being a “damn Yankee” offered 72 grand and got the land and the house. He now had a house near the famous Santee Lake, “only” two minutes away.
Rene drove by another empty lot (most likely on equally scarce land) every day for the first week he was in Santee. On the lot was a fifteen foot boat with a 35 horse power motor and a trailer. On the boat was a for sale sign……

For Sale $ 1500.00 “FIRM”
Friends and relatives from NJ and newly made friends in Santee (all former Damn Yankees) ask Rene when he was going to get a boat since he lived “near the water” only two minutes away. One day when going by the lot he saw a man near the fifteen foot boat and its 35 horse power motor and its trailer and its sign saying “Boat For Sale $ 1500 “FIRM”. Rene stopped his car, introduced himself and not knowing much about boats nor caring much whether or not he bought this particular one offered the man $ 800 “FIRM.” The man immediately agreed and Rene was now the proud owner of a Fifteen foot boat with a 35 horse power motor and a trailer for only $ 800.

The Pride of Ownership
Being the owner of a Fifteen foot boat with a 35 horse power motor and a trailer that cost you “only” $ 800, brings on a lot of responsibilities. First you need four good life jackets, two new seat covers for the boat seats (only $ 200), a paddle (one will do just fine), a bright new shiny whistle (as required by the rules and regulation of boats by the Sovereign State of South Carolina), two new tires for the trailer (the old ones were dry rotted), two new rims (the old rims were an “odd” size), new wiring for the trailer’s parking and stop lights (all new of course), a winch (the old one of course was corroded beyond repair), a jack for the trailer so it would be easier to raise to put on??????? Oh yes to put it on the ball of the hitch of Rene’s new truck ($ 8000.00 FIRM) so he can tow his Fifteen foot boat with its 35 horse power motor and its trailer that he bought for only $ 800, down to the Lake “ only” two minutes away.

Rhyme of the Recent Mariner
Rene’s cousin from NJ was visiting the first time he was to take his boat out on Lake Marion. After 15 minutes of hitching the $ 800 Fifteen foot boat with its 35 horse power outboard motor on its newly appointed trailer to his $ 8000 truck with the required hitch to tow the trailer and boat and making sure all the lights and chains were properly and safely attached, Rene eagerly set out to reach the nearby lake which was “only” two minutes away. He drove several blocks to the landing area. After 10 minutes of backing up the trailer (for the first time) into the water, the $ 800, Fifteen foot boat with its 35 horse power motor began to sink. Rene as it turns out, had never been told that the boat had a drainage plug that had not been replaced. Thirty minutes later……. after finding the missing plug and bailing out the copious amount of water that entered the boat since its insertion (almost its immersion) into the lake, Rene and his cousin began ….
A Three Hour Tour
Everything was wonderful as he and his cousin explored the enormity that is Lake Marion. It is a huge Lake with many coves and islands. The Cypress trees grow right in the Lake and fish and birds thrive in its bountiful vastness. The Lake is so large that even in the peak of the vacation season fellow boaters can be observed usually from a distance. Yes, boating at its finest. Rene and his cousin were unencumbered by the wake or sound of any other boat. Hardly a ripple on the water from any boat as far as any sound could carry. Not even a ripple from his boat. A slash from his single paddle, yes but nary a ripple from his boat. The outboard motor it seems, on its maiden voyage (maiden at least under the tutelage of one damn Yankee named Rene from NJ) had ceased to be functional. It refused to start probably because it envied the refurbishment of its compatriots the boat and trailer with hardly a concern for its own welfare other than a tank of gas and expectations by Rene of performance without question. Paddling with one paddle in a Fifteen foot boat with a non operative 35 horse power outboard motor still in the water is difficult (even without its attached trailer) to say the least. René, however, was prepared for just such an emergency. He reached into his emergency kit which consisted manly of mosquito spray, Band-Aids, sunscreen, and other sundries and brought out his bright new shiny whistle which every boater in South Carolina is required by law to carry for just such an emergency. Rene blew the whistle….. and blew the whistle……..and blew the whistle…. As required by the rules and regulation of boaters by the Sovereign State of South Carolina. Rene was not informed that no one is required to respond to the whistle under the rules and regulation of boaters by the Sovereign State of South Carolina. Rene and his cousin were up the proverbial creek even with a paddle. Other boats of course eventually came by, but none close enough to ask for assistance. Rene and his cousin were now frantically waving towels at passing boaters. Some fellow boaters probably (and correctly) viewed them as “damn Yankees” and gave no response to Rene’s and his Cousin’s obvious tauntings. Others, being more friendly and receptive to their gyrations politely waved back at them as they continued on their way, also failing to stop and offering any assistance. Eventually some kind soul did stop and began towing them to back to their boat landing. The good Samaritan asked Rene were he was headed and Rene being a virgin boater and a “Dumb Damn Yankee” responded with a feeble and somewhat futile gesture towards the bridge that carries interstate 95 over the lake. Eventually his numerous and vociferous Yankee rantings against the fates and the vagaries of life during his rescue , where not well received by his now weary rescuer. Finally, Rene’s animated and “colorful” responses to the “good” Samaritans further queries about where Rene was trying to return were not acceptable and he promptly threw the tow rope back in Rene’s face. He was ready to abandon them again to the cruel waters of the mighty Lake. Rene calling forth the last of his persuasive skills (the offering of a twenty dollar bill played only a small part in his persuasiveness) convinced the man just to take him ashore any shore so he could get to a phone. Many hours later Rene returned to the landing taking only five minutes to remove his boat from the beautiful shores of Lake Marion. His 45 second drive back to his house (usually two minutes away) near but not on the lake was uneventful. He spent almost no time unhitching his $ 800 boat (its plug in place) with its inoperative 35 horse power motor on its newly rejuvenated trailer. Rene vowed he would return to the exploration of Lake Marion better prepared and better equipped to take on nature with its wonders and its dangers. On this he was “FIRM”

Rene then said “Maybe I needed a louder Whistle”

Y2K Solution
Promising himself and his cousin that he never again would be caught on Lake Marion with no means of assistance, Rene quickly gave up on the premise of acquiring a louder whistle. A bell, or a air horn even though both highly recommended did not meet his fancy. This is 1999 almost the next millennium he said to himself. Do what you would you would do up north don’t depend on the mercies of your fellow neighbor. So Rene got a Cell Phone and a good one at that. Clear as the Baby Bell that had made it. (Southern Bell to be sure no damned Yankee cell phone is sold to a true resident of Santee South Carolina). His children in NJ sounded like they were next to him when he called them long distance with it. His Cell Phone was his insurance. No longer would be like Scarlet O’Hara , Dependent on the kindness of strangers. Renee was ready and he and his cousin again set out to tour the wonders of that majestic Lake.

For Whom the “Bell” Tolls

Rene was perturbed but not truly angry when the 35 Horse power motor failed to start after he and his cousin had drifted contentedly on some distant estuary of Lake Marion. Eagerly, almost gleefully, he whipped out his cell phone. He would show once and for all that he was at no ones mercy. That he controlled his fate. That he was in control. The phones dial tone was crisp and clear, definitely a good omen. But who to call?? New to boating and also relatively new in Santee, Rene did not know many people who could assist him in his boat on Lake Marion. But call he did and he made call after call after call. He called his girl friend at work, but she was not there, nor could he ascertain where to reach her. Call after call, but no one to listen .

It is a said by some that if a tree falls in a forest and there is no one there to hear it fall, then perhaps it made no sound. It should then logically follow that if a person in a boat calls for help from a cell phone and no one can come then he truly can not be heard either.

Rene then reached for his tiny silver whistle that is required by the rules and regulation of boats by the Sovereign State of South Carolina. With night quickly approaching he might as well been whistling in the dark.

He then thought “maybe I should have bought that second paddle.”

Rene a “Red Neck” at Last
Eventually a low tech solution was devised by Rene that seemed guaranteed to work. Rene discovered that a beach towel given to him by his short but red necked girl friend bore a replica of the confederate flag. Surely here deep in the South waving the Confederate flag and perhaps a loud rendition of Dixie if need be, would get almost immediate assistance. Miraculously, it worked. Some distance away a speedboat probably noticing the frantic waving of the red and white turned and headed in their direction. Rescue would be earlier than anticipated. Nightfall and humiliation avoided. It was his lucky day.
The boat of mercy approached from the direction of the now rapidly setting sun. The speeding boat and its occupant had taken on the bronze glow of that beautiful sunset. Its darkness seemed to increase as the boater closed in, but was abruptly interrupted by the whiteness of his ivory teeth. His distinct ebony skin with the most friendly of smiles was reassuring. The large wake left by his boat as he kept going ,however, was not so friendly. As he sped by he loudly shouted with a distinctly New York accent “Damn Red Necks” to which Rene immediately responded, surprising even himself, “ you Damn Yankee, go back where you came from”.
“I’ll live and DIE in Dixie”
Out in the middle of nowhere with his confederate flag and alone in the dark with a close female relative. Who would have thought it to be so easy? For the price of a boat that only cost $ 800 Rene was truly a Southerner at last.

Then the “skeet-ers” closed in……..

Southern Accents

There's a southern accent, where I come from
The young 'uns call it country, the yankees call it dumb
I got my own way of talking, but everything gets done
With a southern accent, where I come from

Now that drunk tank in Atlanta, is just a motel room to me
Think I might go work Orlando, if them orange groves don't freeze
Got my own way of working, but everything is run
With a southern accent, where I come from

For just a minute there I was dreaming
For just a minute it was all so real
For just a minute she was standing there, with me
There's a dream I keep having, where my momma comes to me
And kneels down over by the window, and says a prayer for me

Got my own way of praying, but everything's begun
With a southern accent, where I come from
Got my own way of living, but everything is done
With a southern accent, where I come from

Yankees have no balls.

Someone that says somethin like that usually ends up getting an Irish-style ass kicking.

Southern Accents

There's a southern accent, where I come from
The young 'uns call it country, the yankees call it dumb
I got my own way of talking, but everything gets done
With a southern accent, where I come from

Now that drunk tank in Atlanta, is just a motel room to me
Think I might go work Orlando, if them orange groves don't freeze
Got my own way of working, but everything is run
With a southern accent, where I come from

For just a minute there I was dreaming
For just a minute it was all so real
For just a minute she was standing there, with me
There's a dream I keep having, where my momma comes to me
And kneels down over by the window, and says a prayer for me

Got my own way of praying, but everything's begun
With a southern accent, where I come from
Got my own way of living, but everything is done
With a southern accent, where I come from

Yes. Read "how the scots invented the modern world" by arthur herman. There is a section on how we populated the southeastern US and reacted to problems in creative ways, i.e. setting pack of wild dogs fighting outside of anglican church services to disrupt their mission activities. Also the clans in scotland were some of the meanest, most brutal authoritarian regimes ever.

For Honor!

Yankee.

I don't think southerners are the ones with the problem. From the study, it is obviously the idiots who wander down corridors bumping into southerners and calling them names. People from Michigan (and others who have no manners) may think this the norm.

That's Ann Arbor. That's a whole different country. I'd like to see them do that over in Fowlerville, Downriver, or in the UP, eh?

Question: to be called "yankee," does one just have to live in the areas designated as "not the South," or do you have to be condescending and arrogant along with that? ;-) (For the record, I'm a native of northern Delaware, but now live in Virginia.)

. As a life long reb (Ms), I'd say it's the latter. As the article said...It's a matter of honor. More than that, it's pride, loyalty, patriotism and independence. These things are taught to us by our parents, schools and churches.You leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.

Bumping into someone in a corridor on purpose is the equivalent to a slap in the face. You slap a man that has a sense of pride and honor about himself and he'll stomp a mudhole in your a$$ and then stomp it dry.

BTW welcome to Dixie.

That's according to eggheads at the University of Michigan, where shrinks wandered down corridors bumping into students and calling them names.

And UofM is a representative sample of the south??? What morons.

Neutral answer. Wasn't Deleware wone fo the so-called neutral states during the war?

I know. I was joking about it being "Michiganders". Can't paint them all with the same brush. And southerners must apply to folks outside of Florida. There's many I've met that wouldn't have passed this study.

Only an egg-head from Michigan would think its a good idea to intentionaly bump into someone then call that person names.