I sense a theme here.

What do my Mom’s next door neighbors, my neighbors across the street and the Bumpuses from the movie A Christmas Story have in common.

Well there are two things in common.

First is that these are the same kind of people who feel the need to park whatever vehicle they may own, dirt bike, RV, boat, monster truck, car on blocks. Wherever and however they seem fit. It may be that they do not care, or maybe there is method (or at least meth) to their madness. It could be very zen, or it may just be hillbilly code I am not sure. My guess is that it is either due to the fact they may be too loaded to realize how to properly park, or they are just assholes. I think it maybe a little from column A and a little from column B.

The second item is their wonderful devotion to proper dog handling. We have all seem the Bumpuses dogs ruining the Old Man’s turkey in the movie. Which leads me to this Boski useless segue. In Gene Shepperd’s’ book that incident did not take place at Christmas and it was not even a turkey. It was the Easter Ham. Go and amaze your friends with that one. I dare you. Where was I, oh, as I have typed here before thanks to the yokels across the street and their dog we have had to return the a gift their dog left for us. But the idiots who live next to my Mom did a great job of making sure that their dogs where tied up. Right now they are tearing up their backyard and putting in lord knows what. Probably something tacky, something dangerous and hopefully out of code so they can get busted. But one of their dogs got out on Christmas Eve. I see this as I am bringing in gifts to my Mom’s house. The dog is a small white dog, but it barking like their is no tomorrow. I walk away from the dog, and it is still barking. I make no move toward the dog or anything to antagonise it. As I get to the door the dog is still going. Now the dog is on my Mom’s lawn and it is barking and barking. So this tells me the hillbillies are either out or sleeping off the egg nog bender. Now when I get inside and close the door I think that the dog will back for a little bit longer and stop. Nope, it keeps barking at the house. The Hound of Hell sees me and my wife, in the front room of the house, so it is still barking on my Mom’s lawn. So I close the shades. Does that do the tick? Nope, the little bastard continues to bark for the next two hours. Till it finally gets bored and runs back to Hazard County. If it was not for the thought of not making things worse with the neighbors we should have called Animal Control. As this is going on my Mom tells me that the Hillbillies saw here out one day and brought up the barking, since someone had complained to the hillbillies. They asked my Mom how our dog was doing and that the some of the other neighbors had complained about the dogs. Thinking, oh our sweet little dog can be the one you are thinking of and if it is it because of my Mom’s dogs. My Mom had to tell them that Bunky, our beagle, had passed away two years ago. They had no idea. So it looks like they can’t play blame the deceased dog any more. Poor Bunky, he was not the sharpest tool in the shed and (he got by on his looks), but to blame him for your dogs shitty behavior is low.

Typically Hillbilly logic. If there is a problem, blame someone else even if it has passed away.

Thinking about it I have an idea why the dog was so agitated, they must have trained it to ward of people who read books.


3 Responses to I sense a theme here.

  1. Silliyak says:

    Does the banjo music creep you out?

  2. Boski93 says:

    It most certainly does.

  3. Silliyak says:

    I just had an image of you as Eric Cartman hunting Hillbillies instead of Hippes.

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