Unintended KKK Rally

Children, get some warm cocoa and your favorite blanket caz on this chilly night, mama's gonna tell you a little story about when she was young, a little older than you, but still quite young. I must have been about 26 or 27 years old. It was the 4th of July (Independence Day in the USA) weekend and my then boyfriend an I had gone way "up north" - the Upper, that nebulous place where Wisconsin meets Michigan. Now you children might not know this, but the far north of the USA is about as full of hateful rednecks as the far south. (fun fact) We met with an old friend of my bf and he had a "local" friend -townie- with him (my bf and his friend grew up rich, spoiled kids with a summer home on the lake). They invited us to a "party". So of course we said YEAH! We were young and a party sounded fun. It was even going to be down by the river. Off we go and as we are walking, I happen to note a lawn jockey. Now you kids may not be familiar with law jockeys, so let me get you a picture.

Lawn jockeys are incredibly racist symbols. They were used mostly at southern plantations where slaves were kept and long after just by assholes. The idea was that you tie your horse to it because since slavery is outlawed, you can't just force a black man to stand around all day waiting for your friends to let him hold their horse. Now, back to our story. I started to get a bit jumpy but thought, "maybe they have this as kitsch - for irony" - like it's so racist it's not even racist anymore, you know? Anyhoo down we go and suddenly I see a pick up truck (well many of them). The one that caught my eye was highly flying a confederate flag. Time for another picture:

This flag was the one the south used during the US Civil War and a sign of racism as well. If you don't know what the US Civil War was all about, as you kids say, "Google it." Aha, where was I? Oh yes, I was noting two racist symbols in a matter of seconds. This could not be kitsch and my heart began to race. Just then a man with a clip board, flannel shirt, and bad, bad mullet (one of many) came up to my bf and I and asked if we would like to sign a petition to get the state of Wisconsin to recognize the KKK as a CHARITABLE organization so they could get tax relief and advertise their "trainings." Needless to say, I had to refrain myself from shouting "Hell no!" and just said "No" in a squeaky and totally not badass way.

Sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you, but Billy Ray wasn't there, just his hair on many heads. Now I start looking for an out. Then some other cuntwaddle (this is a new word I learned this week), started shouting (please read in a redneck voice) "I'd drive my truck on the south side of Chicago with this flag and yell at all them niggers to stop taking our jobs." Now, I said a little bit loudly to my bf, "You're so dumb you don't even know the WEST side of Chicago is where the tough gang members reside. And they would eat you alive. You'd run out of there pissing your pants. And which jobs? I haven't seen one person of color since we passed Green Bay." My bf looks at me and says "hush" - we were clearly outnumbered, both in people and loads of atrocious hair. Here's what the women looked like:

So I kept saying to my husband, but louder and louder each time and directed to the rednecks things like "you racists assholes" "you dumb pieces of shit" "you are not fit to wipe my ass with", etc. He reminded me though master martial artist I am, it's doubtful I could kick the ass of all these inbreeds.

I also keep looking at his "friends" because I'm convinced they didn't knowingly take us to a KKK rally. Something I would put on my NOT to do bucketlist. I just know they are as horrified as me. But nope, I look over and they are smiling and drinking and jumping over a fire. When I notice the fire, I say "I wish those girls would stand a little closer and blow the whole damn place up with their gallons of hairspray." I think it might be wise to describe what my bf and I looked like at this time. This was the 1990's - yes way back in the 19's! We were what was termed "alternative" during those days. He had short, spiky hair with 2 earrings in one ear and 1 in the other. I probably was wearing cutoff jeans and combat boots. My hair would have been some shade not known to nature. It was long in the front and shaved in the back. I had (and still have) 5 earrings in one ear and 2 in the other. We looked like what asshats like these would refer to as homos and lezbos. Photo is not us by the way, but something like us. (my bf was a musician, but i wasn't crazy - at least i didn't think so)

I thought my heart would beat outside of my body, so I told my bf, "Go and tell that moron friend of yours we are leaving." Well the dickhole said he was "having fun" and we could leave if we want to. Of course he'd drove us and we'd left our truck (a respectable small sized pick up with no confederate flags) parked at the dive bar on the highway. I was a bit afraid to turn my back on these jerks as they are known to attack people only when the others are vulnerable, but walk away we did. And walk the 2 miles back to our truck. And walk right into that dive bar and order two shots of Southern Comfort STAT!

Now like every good story, we need a moral. And here it is, children. If you ever find yourself in the deep south or far north or anywhere else the redneck herds roam and someone, even someone you consider a friend, invites you to a party, especially down by the river, get written confirmation that you will not be mistakenly attending a KKK rally. And in case you aren't sure how to identify rednecks, please listen to this helpful guide from David Cross : Good night. Sleep well. (Kiss on the forehead.)