Redneck Letter… from a mother to her son

By on December 31, 2014
redneck letter

You know what makes me sick?  You know what makes me so mad I just wanna drive over my toes… with a Sherman tank?

I got a ‘so-called’ funny letter in my email this week. You know it’s one a’ them joke deals everybody thinks is a hoot… so they pass it around on the computer.  And I will admit – you get some knee-slappers sometimes.  But this particular email – deeply offended me.

This one involved what you call – your defamation of your character.  It’s called ‘A redneck mother sends her son a letter.’   It was supposed to be absolutely priceless and hilarious.  What it was… was insulting. Redneck letter

A Redneck Letter

Like it starts out… ‘dear son – I am writing this slow because I know you can’t read fast.’  Uh huh – Because rednecks are stupid.  I get it.  That one sets the bar kind of high for the rest of the letter, don’t you think? Redneck letter

Here’s another part of it… ‘Our new place is real nice.  It even has a washing machine.  I’m not sure it works, though. Last week, I put a load of clothes in it – pulled the chain – and we haven’t seen them since…’   Okay – ‘dear mom – you put the clothes in the toilet.  I’m afraid to see what kind of loads you’re putting in the washing machine.’

How about this… ‘your brother, Bubba locked the keys in his car yesterday.  We were scared because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.’  Okay – that’s just flat out dumber than a box of left-handed hammers.  You could have easily rolled down the window and handed him the keys. Are you sure these people are rednecks and not… I don’t know… imbeciles?

And here’s the last part… ‘sad news yesterday – three of your friends went off a bridge in a pickup. Butch was driving.  He rolled down the window and got out.  Your other two friends were riding in the back and drowned… because they couldn’t get the tailgate down.’   Honestly – I have never known a redneck that didn’t know how to open a tailgate.   We could do that with both hands tied behind our backs… with our tongues. So I’m afraid in this case… I would suspect foul play.

Wake up, America.  Oh sure… make fun of your rednecks.  Until you need a simple home or car repair.  And then you come crawling like we’re all good.  I don’t think we are.  Yeah – this has got to stop, people.  Like me on Facebook. I’m Earl Pitts, American.  Pitts Off.

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