If your mother doesn't remove the Marlboro from her lips before telling the State Trooper to kiss her ass, you might be a redneck.
You might be a redneck if you use a radiator hose to fix your kitchen sink.
You might be a redneck if there are more than ten lawsuits currently pending against your dog.
You might be a redneck if taking a dip has nothing to do with water.
You might be a redneck if your wife keeps a can of Vienna sausage in her purse.
You might be a redneck if the highlight of your parties is when you flip out your false teeth.
You might be a redneck if your bumper sticker says, My other car is a combine.
You might be a redneck if you're turned on by a woman who can field dress a deer.
"Rednecks" always made me nervous to play, but I'm glad I wrote it and I continue to play it. It's just that the language is so rough.
You might be a redneck if every electrical outlet in your house is a fire hazard.
You might be a redneck if you go to a Tupperware party for a haircut.
You might be a redneck if in an effort to watch your cholesterol, you eat Spam Lite.
You might be a redneck if your coffee table used to be a telephone cable spool.
You might be a redneck if your father encourages you to quit school because Larry has an opening on the lube rack.
You might be a redneck if your favorite Christmas present was a painting on black velvet.
You might be a redneck if you consider a six-pack and a bug-zapper high-quality entertainment.
You might be a redneck if the dog catcher calls for a backup unit when he visits your house.
You might be a redneck if the receptionist checks the rat traps at your place of business.
If you're afraid they might discover your redneck past, there are a hundred ways to cover your redneck past.
Any questions I had about whether a redneck from Oklahoma could become a Brown Classical Philosophy professor ended when I met Tim [Blake Nelson].
A lot of writers come from Harvard and such, and are rich, and they write under the misapprehension that poor people are stupid. So when they do write them, they are hillbillies or rednecks or Christian idiots.
I'm a redneck. And we can wear whatever because we just really don't care about those things. And when you're a redneck named Bubba, you really don't care.
In Georgia, rednecks are just wolves in wolf clothing. In Detroit, you don't know who's a redneck until you go home and meet their parents.
Come on now! You kick out the gooks, the next thing you know, you have to kick out the chinks, the spicks, the spooks, the kikes and all that's going to be left is a couple of brain-dead rednecks.
How is a redneck divorce similar to a tornado? You know that somewhere, somehow, someone is gonna lose a trailer.
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