Stereotypes and Bad Music.

No matter how hard you try to be open-minded and accepting of people, making every effort to judge each person by their personality and actions, sometimes a group of people gathers and completely proves every single stereotype about the group in which they fall.

Last night, it was the Rednecks and Hillbillies. There's a slight difference in the two if you didn't know, mostly that the Hillbillies have an even more unintelligible accent and fewer teeth. But, they generally fall under the same category, and they were out en masse last night. (I'm going to throw in things like "en masse" to ensure that if any of the people from last night stumble upon my blog, they won't have a clue what I'm talking about.) The reason? Justin Moore. Your very basic, generic, cookie cutter country musician bringing to you such fine, original works of musical genius like "I Could Kick Your Ass," "Small Town, USA," and "Good Ole American Way." There was also a timeless classic that stated "She looks sexy on my tractor." And some other song that he "wrote in the back of a pick-up truck." Wow, Justin, good job covering all of the country bases. Speaking of covering, he had covers for sure. About 15 of them. Bad Company, The Allman Brothers, Kansas, John Anderson ("Seminole Wind"), and George Jones to name a few. Of course, as is protocol with any country show, he covered "Family Tradition" by Hank Williams, Jr. I don't know what it is about that stupid fucking song that makes it the fucking Redneck Anthem, but dammit I hate hearing that fucking song. Hate. If it wasn't my job to stop people from rushing the stage, I might rush the stage and throat punch the next person that covers that goddamn song. Hate.

Mostly because 1000 drunk fucking necktards start singing along. And not just singing along, but dudes swaying and putting their arms around each other in some retarded, homo-erotic bonding ritual. Yeah, hillbilly trying to read through this, I called you a homo. Good catch. Are you going to kick my ass? I know you can do it, the song said so. Or maybe you can't, since you can barely fucking stand up after slamming 8 Bud Lights in the first 9 minutes you were in the club. And tell me you don't love it when Jimmy Jack puts his arm around you while you sing along to generic country shit. Better go kick a gay guy's ass real quick so no one will think you're queer.

There were 1000 people at the show, and probably 895 pairs of jeans. Or jeans shorts. Or jeans overalls. Or some sort of denim product that covers ass. The rest were chicks wearing halter dresses and cowboy boots. Every dude that wasn't wearing a plaid shirt with pearlized buttons was wearing an Affliction shirt. Every chick that wasn't wearing a halter dress and cowboy boots was wearing a plaid shirt with pearlized buttons. It's like Wrangler parked a semi outside the club and was issuing everyone the Redneck uniform of the day. A ton of cowboy hats, a ton of baseball caps, and a ton of dip can circles on the backside of jeans. It was like Beverly Hillbillies and the Dukes of Hazzard had an evil love child and that child exploded all over the inside of the club.

Worse than the awful music that sounded just like every other awful country musician to ever butcher sound waves and the abhorrent (look it up, Redneck) fashion sense rampant among these people were the actual people. Loud, obnoxious, rude, and arrogant. And I'd be shocked if the average IQ in the room was over 100. I heard some things said that couldn't have been English. I had discussions with guys trying to explain something to them that were about as productive as me trying to explain to a whale why he shouldn't shit in the ocean. At least if I had been talking to a whale I could think "Damn, whales are pretty fucking cool." Talking to these guys it was more "Damn, this guy smells like beer, Copenhagen, and inbreeding." It was a test of patience, to be certain.

There were a few cuties there, but more than anything, there were a whole lot of "just missed" chicks. The type of chick who isn't really that great looking, but a long dry spell and a six pack might make them a little better. There were some straight ugly bitches, the type of ugly that no amount of make-up can cover and no amount of cleavage can make up for. Then there were the select few chicks who were so damned ugly that you know their moms were banging two cousins at the exact same time because eyes don't normally come that close together. And they were all just as drunk as the dudes. The puke on your cowboy boots is sexy, Daisy.

Fuck, it was awful. It was every stereotype about Rednecks/Hillbillies that you've ever heard personified. Yes, I heard "Git 'er done!" yelled out. Yes, there were chicks dippin' and spittin'. Yes, there was a jealous boyfriend on the cell phone in the bathroom asking his girl if she was "going to get off on every guy in the place because they smiled at [her]." Wait, no, "gonna git awf on every gah in the place 'cuz they smah-led at [her]." No, I am not anxious to work another country show.

"She look sexy on my tractor." What the fuck? Are you sure it's the chick you're looking at dumbfuck or the tractor? Is this some sort of machine porn fetish song or some shit? Fuck...the song is so goddamned dumb I don't even know how...fuck it. Stop trying, Matt. Just stop.