The One About My Truck vs. My Intelligence

As is the rule in Texas, I drive a truck.  It has moved me from DC to Texas, to the Pacific Northwest and back.  It is my most cherished possession though even as it falls into disrepair.  That being said, I am from out in the country a piece (You know, past the old Miller place where they used to keep the Brahmans, but don’t any more because Luckett, their oldest boy, decided to go off and be an engineer at Lockheed, but before you take the turn to get to LakeCreek). There might even be some livestock within a stone’s throw from my back door.   And in the summer I do have an opportunity to get sunburned from time to time.  Do you see where I’m going with this?  You seem smart enough, so I’ll just work on that assumption.

I take no offense to the word redneck when used properly.  My extended family has worked the land since before they came to the States.  But, my sheepskin proud friends, farming is not a measure of intelligence any more than a diploma.  I’ve met plenty of moronic doctoral candidates and their opposite in closet intellectual cattle ranchers.  It’s all just a matter of stupid pride on both sides.

So, all I’m saying is  let’s don’t judge people based on a lifestyle.  All bets are off once they open their mouths or drive a Ford though.  Let’s just take it on a mouth by mouth and truck by truck basis though.

That’s right, I’m about to say it.  Can’t we all just get along?

TL;DR Don’t judge people.  That’s just another Rook mistake.

Unless we’re talking about the Air Force.

Screw those guys,


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