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The Problem With The World Today

The problem with this country is all the modern conveniences. Why, back in my day, I had to walk uphill both ways to school, in 150 degree blizzards. None of this school bus crapola. No sir.

Back then, we didn't have any microwaves. Or canned food. Or packaged food. Heck no. If we wanted to eat, we had to cook it from scratch. Not only that, we had to grow it first.

Internet? Telephones? heck no. If we wanted to communicate, we had to actually go find someone to talk to. You know, mouth to ear. Or write a letter.

And in school, if you got a 3.6 GPA, you had to actually earn it. None of this namby pamby social promotion stuff to protect a students poor fragile ego.

And the booze. There weren't no package stores. There weren't no convenience stores with six packs of brewskies or that Boone's Farm Blackberry wine (get Sally Jo to down a bottle of that and watch out. he he he he he). No! If you wanted to get stinking drunk, you had to brew your own rot gut. AFTER you grew your own corn for the sour mash. AND stilled it over a fire made of wood that YOU cut by hand. Sure made people appreciate sleeping in the gutter more than they'un do today.

And school. Don't get me started about school. If I brought home less than straight As, did I ever get it. I can still remember my mammy tapping her foot on the back step while I trudged out to the hickory tree, we called it Old Switch Maker, don't you know. Well, I cut me a switch, stripped the leaves off, and trudged back up to the house. Sometimes my mammy would even invite the neighbor folks round to watch. Boy, that sure was embarrassing, having to drop my trousers right there in front of everyone, especially Tina Mae. You see, I was sweet on Tina Mae. Sometimes me and her would sneak off behind the wood pile and she would show me things. Like one time I memberate she had the Sears Roebuck catalog, and she opened it right up to the undergarment section. Lordy, Lordy, talk about blushing. My face turned redder than a beat nailed to a county line post. Then she offered to show me her undergarments, but first I had to share my bubble gum with her. Course I couldn't do that. I told her she weren't that sort of girl that should be asking for a man's bubble gum, especially when he done chewed all the flavor out of it first.

Having to do all that sort of thing the hard way may you appreciate things. Made you damn glad to have whatever you had. Why, sometimes all you had to eat was dirt. And you were damn glad to have that dirt. (not too bad with a bit of ketchup, which you had to make yourself, by the way).

Oh well, better get back to shooing them young brats from my front yard.