I LIVE WITH REDNECKS

(A Letter to My Libtard Friends)

Yes, I’m one of you. I’m an overeducated lawyer who can’t fix a car, has no interest in hunting, and would give up his citizenship before voting for Trump.

But not too long ago, I moved to a small mountain village north of Phoenix. The roads are dirt. The center of town is an old bar with baseball caps lining the ceiling. And all of my neighbors are rednecks.

After moving, a city friend asked me if I’d bought a gun, and I told him “no, but all my neighbors have 10 or 15.” As long as I don’t become the enemy, I’m safe.

My retraining in the new reality began right away. “The climate thing is a hoax: in fact, the polar ice caps are expanding.” “This covid thing is a hoax started by Bill Gates and Dr. Fauci.” “The police shootings? Those kids all deserved it, and another black would eventually have shot them anyway.”

Redneck caucus

At first, political discussions were frequent, but because I never joined in, they gradually tended to end when I showed up.

But before you start feeling smug, libtards, let me finish.

My neighbors are also kind, funny and generous. Their clothes are old but usually clean. They are loyal to their friends, almost to a fault. And when money is tough, like it is for all of us now, they share. And most important, they love their…