Hey progs. Just an fyi. Calling conservatives in Florida “Crackers” is not a disparagement in our book. Most of us crackers wear that badge proudly and loudly; and as GracieD can attest, like Louisiana our gators enjoy the taste of ‘Prog Legs’. We call y’all liberal types ‘granola bars’ round these parts. Crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside, at least that’s what it sounds like once the muffled squeals and shrieks subside.
Nary a Romney sign ‘tween the homestead surrounded by mangroves and the polling place was sighted driving in to town. A few Ron Paul signs and a few Gingrich signs was all to be found. However, a few of those had been re-purposed as pointers for yard sales and lemonade stands so they likely been out a bit over a week.
Stopped by the local gas pump, grocery, tool n dye/first aid clinic en route. The elder crackers lined up in their resin chairs was hootin’ bout the risin’ cost of Red Man (that’d be chewwey tobaccy for y’all non crackers). Few new deep creased faces among em’ today talking political stuff from the talkin’ heads on the idiot box. You can tell the newbies because they perch on milk crates. Anywho, after payin’ respect to em, I got to set wit em’ a spell and asked about votin’ n stuff. Suffice to say they ain’t no fans of fancy hair yankee boy, or anyone else who ain’t sportin’ a well-worn brow from years of hat wearin’ hard work. Alright then.
Onward into town, passin by all the touron’s and frog heads along the way. Still no road signs for fancy hair. Not one. Polling set up, as usual, in the schoolhouse with parking for the pickups in a field right near. The young un’s were opening doors for the misses and such, while mindin’ the boot scraper to keep dirt outta school. Miss Polly was there, as usual, with the bright red straw hat, cigar box of pencils, and a basket of corn muffins from the fine gals at the ladies auxiliary. Asked ol’ Polly ‘ bout turnout, she said “it’d been mighty fine, mighty fine indeed”.
Boy scouts passin’ out fancy votin’ stickers at the exit to compliment the corn muffin with a farewell “thank you sir”. Darn near brought a tear to my eye.
Yep. I’m a cracker. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
*spit*
