Redneck Sustainability: Urban Scrappers

scrap metalWhen I say “urban scrapper,” I’m not talking about some underground Sunday night fight club for hipsters with too much kempt up frustration, I’m talking about today’s savvy, entrepreneurial recycler of society’s droppings.

This duty has increasingly been taken up by the growing and noble urban class of redneck–the urban scrapper. And the rest of us, who wince or even shudder with disgust at the idea of getting intimate with the undoing of our daily cast-off (Cast-off: (n.) the dreck that ripples outward in the wake of a typical modern life on a daily basis) owe the scrapper a profound debt of gratitude.

You see, while I’m sustainability conscientious, like most of us, I’m dastardly lazy. [Read more...]

Redneck Guide to Relationships

A bronc to breakfastThe way I see it, relationships inevitably involve control. Now some times a person may be handing it over, while at others he or she may be taking it by the tail (or by the teeth). How a person handles the control determines whether they keep all their fingers, or get kicked in the head.

It’s kind of like a man and his horse. [Read more...]

5 Ways to Find Your Inner Redneck

Toilet seat horse shoesFolk who live the button down life in town (known as the “rat race” until this was seen as discriminatory to vermin) might need a little assistance in letting their mullet down. If that’s the case, here are five great ways to add a little redneck to your white collar world (the Green Porch is always doing its part):

  1. Buy a brick of ammunition from Walmart to keep on top of the fridge (no gun necessary). Then whenever you open the door say the words, “Get some.” (For extra credit you can drink straight from the carton and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.) [Read more...]

If Rednecks Ran the NFL (again)

Jared Allen of the VikingsThe National Football League’s 2011 season will most likely never happen. Here at the Green Porch you’ll finally get the straight answer as to why.

American Football is dangerously lacking in redneck participation and spectatorship. And apparently no one has told Roger Goodell, or he’s simply too dandified to know better. Without its minions of redneck guardians, the sport has been left easy prey for city slickers, tyrannical owners, agents and each party’s army of blood-doping lawyers so hopped up on their own oxygen-enriched red blood cells that they can sue you six ways to Sunday before you can say, “Are you ready for some football.” [Read more...]

Redneck Sustainability: Paint Glove Philosophy

Pipe corrals suppliesSome of my uninitiated readers may yet be ignorant of such things as paint gloves or paint mitts. But they’re essentially paint brushes you wear on your hands, used mostly for painting pipe and such. As a young redneck I spent much of one glorious summer gently caressing the underbellies of mile after mile of pipe while wearing said paint glove.

The job at hand was to freshen up the pipe corrals on the family ranch which consisted of enough lots, runs, gates, chutes and ladders to create a dozen life-sized redneck versions of the child’s board game. Lest you think I exaggerate, I’ve included a photograph of a stockpile of metal pipe of which I’m sure would be insufficient to represent the amount of pipe constituted by our corrals.

The six-pipe-high corral, (redneck maze of pipe) equalled a butt-load of rustoleum red paint and a couple dozen lambs wool paint gloves. If it hadn’t of been for the tinny, ranch truck radio set to 94.9 the EDGE and basking me in Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus, and Matthew Sweet’s Girlfriend, I would have truly gone mad. [Read more...]

Redneck Sustainability: the Dirt Wash

windmillLet’s talk about the dirt wash. Working on the ranch one day, my wizened father showed me how dirt can actually make you cleaner. It’s true, and oh so sustainable. What cleanser could be more natural than dirt?

Anyway, we had just finished replacing spent rods in a windmill. It had been my first time as the “monkey man” on top of the mill (perched up on the top platform without safety gear in order to latch and unlatch the long wooden rods as they are pulled up and out of the ground). This might not need saying, but everything you pull out of a well is slicked with more gook than skinny dippers at Diaper Springs.

And after sloppin’ this stuff all over for a couple hours and taking in views of red-tailed hawks diving for twittering quail hidden in scrub oak thickets, the monkey man tries to climb down the metal rungs on either side of an angle iron windmill support without slipping off and dying. (Really mom, it’s not that dangerous.) [Read more...]

Redneck Sustainability: Rodeo as Bloodsport

Thunderdome from Burning Man 2005

Bloodsport is such a nasty word these days. And who would disagree with such barbarisms as dog and cockfighting making the news? In the wilder rural arenas drunk misogynists strap on paintball guns and hunt bikini-clad (or totally nude!) women for sport. I’m aghast too, believe you me.

But there is one bloodsport in the U.S. doing its best to give the whole misdirected genre its good name back –Rodeo. And once again, rednecks are leading the way. According to most on-line dictionaries bloodsport can refer to either a game or sport designed to end in death, or one typically involving the shedding of blood. While both of these are indeed bloodsport, today I’m referring to the gentlemanly tradition of risking life and limb for glory and entertainment. [Read more...]