Politically Correct Spoiler Alert: If you are easily offended on behalf of those less fortunate souls who can’t afford to be offended on their own, this post may not be for you.
My Redneck Calendar is finished!! It was a labor of love and foolishness but now that it’s done I thought it might be neat if we actually sold a few and gave a lot more away. To that end I enlisted the aid of a handful of Indie Bookstore in the Triangle and three of them tentatively agreed to carry my oeuvre on consignment for a mere 40% of the sales price. Ain’t that fun!!
So (I conjectured) why limit my marketing activities to the Triangle? Surely there are Indie Bookstores out in the hinterlands that would be both pleased and proud to carry such an item. Rural folks read too. Salt of the earth commoners have a God-given sense of humor no doubt. And so I loaded up the Jeep with product and hied me off to find my fawning admirers of the heartland.
I should in retrospect have noticed the proliferation of biblical billboards as I left the climes of civility but I was too taken with the scenic foliage. Fauna and flora abound alongside the two lane asphalt. Traffic at a leisurely 55 MPH was light and exceedingly polite. It was a mere 30 miles to the first village that sported an Indie Bookstore. I anticipated a gentle tete-a-tete with a bucolic Wordsworth with whom I could commune at length whilst sipping a glass of tea, sweet or otherwise. Alas, it was not to be.
The lady who owned the bookstore was elderly, plump, suspicious, short-sighted and understandably hostile, seeing as how I was a damn outsider from that Godless band of hedonists who lived up in Wake County. She leafed through the pictures and poems, heaping disdain on all but the calendar pages which were above reproach. Then she glared up at me and intoned, “Did you ever live in a trailer?” Yikes!
She tossed the calendar on the counter and said “Might be good if you put a little rebel flag right down here on the corner of the first page. Make it a mite more acceptable to some folks hereabouts.”
Then she shook her gray haired old head and allowed as how she didn’t think she’d take any of my wares. Last time she bought calendars they just lay lifeless on the floor and she finally had to toss ‘em. I smiled and winked and called her darling, took my calendar and hightailed it back to civilization.
Now I don’t know if the book seller herself actually lived in a trailer but she sure by God was determined to defend the sensibilities of anyone who did against the ravages of humor being thrust upon them by my satirical outrage. Whether they wished to be defended or not. If there’s a moral here I‘m not hunting it down. I’m staying at home and licking my wounds. I guess you can’t win ‘em all.