THE INFORMATION #903 AUGUST 26, 2016

THE INFORMATION #903
AUGUST 26, 2016
Copyright 2016 FRANCIS DIMENNO
francisdimenno@yahoo.com
https://dimenno.wordpress.com
The educated folk of the Old South took theology lightly, and religion to them was hardly more than a charming ritual, useful on solemn occasions.–H.L. Mencken

WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TEN: PART EIGHTY-FIVE: KINGDOM COME 

“You think there are some bad ‘uns hereabouts, in Blowtown and in Noxtown? Why, then, you haven’t traveled any in the South. People in the deepest part of the South,” said Count Victor Justin, continuing his latest peroration, “still have this convict and warden mentality, which ain’t any big surprise, seeing as how most of their ancestors were the dregs of society back in Merrie Olde England. They were mostly the bastard sons and daughters of indentured servants, at best. And, like convicts everywhere, they are all a secret bunch of morphodites too. They worship guns, because that’s what convicts do, and they are gracious and respectful to their elders and other authority figures, not out of any actual reverence, but simply because that’s how your typical convict gets one over when he’s in prison. It is a most curious thing–these filthy and lazy and thoroughly nondescript characters are outraged at the notion that they are descended from monkeys, and they refuse to accept Darwin’s theory, citing endless Biblical testimonies first set down by credulous nomads–but these lintheads, and all those other savages who live by lynch law?–they themselves are proveably descended from the lowest form of human brute–Blutos who would put the shriekings and shit-flinging antics of the most rotten caged ape to shame. They live on horseback, as a man without a horse is derided as a no-count. They live in the back woods, as a man without land is probably a man of the colored persuasion. They live in a peculiar wilderness of word-blindness, as they cannot read a book, not even their treasured Bible; and they cannot sign their own names, except with an X. I speak here of the vast majority. What need have they of education? It’s well known among the men of the South that too much book-learnin’ will ruin your shooting eye. These worthy men of the south do not have a library, or a book store, or a truly educated man within a two-hundred mile radius of them. Nor a telegraph, nor a printing-press. They are as independent as all get-out, except for their women folk, who always worry about what the neighbors will think if they’re caught out of doors wearing a dress made from last years’ feed-sack. They are destitute of intellect, of pelf, and of nearly everything else–except their damnable, overweening pride. And their ability to hang around in hillside caves and consume inordinate amounts of forty-rod and raw whiskey and get stupefyingly drunk. And their predilection to support various lascivious itinerant preachers and other oafish snake-handlers and bible-hustlers. Religious freedom, my ass! If you’re not gobstruck by the same childish superstitions as the majority, you are a pariah. Down South, they don’t put their crazy people in asylums–oh, no–they either kill ’em outright, or put ’em to work grooming horses, cleaning up pig shit, and performing other menial chores. Then, when they become too old, they lock ’em up in an attic or something. Or, if they ain’t got no family there and they don’t have any living relatives anywheres else, they might farm ’em out for public work, or to a traveling carnival as an itinerant geek. Or maybe even give ’em a shiny new silver star and call ’em a county constable.

 
“Everything about the south reminds me of a prison. The greasy, starchy food. The false grins on the faces of the inmates. The brackish water of the stinking mill ponds. The schools, such as they are, are administered by people who never went to school. The teachers are, at best, incompetent. They are glorified child-minders; nothing more. Learning is by rote. Many parents won’t even bother sending their child to a school; they’d rather have them working a worn-out farm and staring at a mule’s ass from behind a plough. Or chopping cotton, if they are too poor to even hire a wretched negro to perform this function. Oh, they pretend to have fine manners, oh yes. Why, they even say excuse me and pardon me even while they administer forty lashes to an old negro Mammy for stealing a potato from the company store and roasting the contraband Mickey over a clandestine campfire. How else would you expect the south to be, other than lethargic–intolerably hot for close to three-quarters of the year; hag-ridden with hookworm, and pellagra, and malaria; festering with copperheads and other deadly critters; run by the hot-blooded progeny of slavemasters, criminals, and slaves. Oh, yes–many a man and woman down south has got a lick of the old tar brush, though you dast not say so, lest you be pumped full of buckshot and come down with a bad case of lead poisoning. Nor down South is it safe to talk about religion, ner politics. Hunting; fishing; farming–all of these are their acceptable topics of discussion. Lynching bees and the horsewhipping of prosperous negroes is their principal sport. And taking the name of the Good Lord in vain is their foremost taboo. Though most of these southern morphodites are busy bawling praise to their creator one minute, while during the very next minute they are fornicating with their cousin, or with some dusky high yaller slut, or with their cattle, or man to man. 
 

“Listen–I am the very soul of tolerance. I don’t care what men do in private; just so long as they don’t do it out in the streets and discombobulate the horses. I’m not too interested in the fact that a man may do another man an injury behind his back. What gets me is how proud of their backwardness these southerners are, and how eager they are to conceal any evidence of their loathsome vices. They do so by the tried and true method of overcompensation. Your average southern bully is a pretty piss-poor specimen–he rides the fastest horse, breeds the meanest dogs, bets the biggest on all the cock-fights, and owns a rug made from a bear which he kilt with his own two hands. He bawls the loudest prayers in church on Sunday, while, during the rest of the week, he leads the pack in Ku Kluxery, brawling, and the systematic consumption of fried squirrel brains. But if you even suggest that he might be swishy underneath it all, why, he’ll pick up his shotgun and blow your head off without a second thought. So much for the famous ‘Southern Hospitality’. Beneath their thin veneer of gentility, there exists among the men of the South a nation of red-handed thugs and vagabonds. For a significant majority of them are the sons and daughters of all the off-scourings of the earth. And nothing they do or say will ever alter that fact one jot, tittle, nor iota.”

1*SALUTATION
THE DRIVING STUPID
THE REALITY OF AIR FRIED BORSK
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_KpFe9QQmk

HORROR ASPARAGUS STORIES
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IumIAl80CkU

2*REFERENCE
3*HUMOR
THE HAMBURGER BROTHERS

OMAR THE VAMPAR
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gc8nnKiDYkk

4*NOVELTY

12 SEXY ADS THAT WILL GIVE YOU NIGHTMARES

http://www.cracked.com/article/229_12-sexy-ads-that-will-give-you-nightmares/

6* DAILY UTILITY
ALSO SEE:
Cruisin’: A History of Rock and Roll Radio 1955-1970
https://archive.org/details/Cruisin-AHistoryOfRockNRollRadio
10* LAGNIAPPE

DOROTHY COLLINS
SHRIMP BOATS
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oczm7UxRuoM

11* DEVIATIONS FROM THE PREPARED TEXT: A REVIEW OF OTHER MEDIA
1977 J.C. PENNEY CATALOG
http://www.popsugar.com/celebrity/1970-JC-Penney-Catalogue-771943
 
CONTROVERSIES IN POPULAR CULTURE.

862. WHEN JUGGALOS MEET DEADHEADS
https://www.dnainfo.com/chicago/20130815/irving-park/grateful-dead-cover-band-apologizes-fans-shocked-find-juggalos-at-bar

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