Dog fight at my house. Bring beer.

This essay represents the first post of The Angry Czeck Century Series, a thought-provoking collection of penetrating harangues of rancor leading to the Angry Czeck’s 100th Post. You are currently reading Post 88, the post that furiously defends the South.

In my award-ignored essay, Mexico: Star 51, the Angry Czeck cavalierly recommends that the United States annex Mexico, if only so that the South could have their own southerners to make fun of.

Naturally, you pay a heavy price when you lose a civil war. Especially when history reveals you to be bigoted, slave mongering, backwards, traitorous hillbillies. I admit that the South has done little to polish this image. Our public parks are sprinkled with monuments honoring the generals who fought to keep black people working for free. Some Southern states routinely fly the “Stars and Bars” right alongside the flag of our Republic. In the city I live, we are commemorating the 50th anniversary of The Little Rock Nine – nine black school children who had to be escorted to class by armed members of the US Army.

Fifty years. Just fifty years.

Yet, as the South tries to extrapolate from its unseemly history, there are too many conspiring to keep us barefoot and ignorant. Some are homegrown agents who have convinced themselves that the Stars and Bars is a symbol of heritage, and not hate. (And what heritage is that? Slaving?) But most of these new confederates just aren’t from around here.

Consider the plight of one Michael Vick, full-time professional football player and part-time dog fighter. The Angry Czeck officially goes on record to condemn the forced fighting of animals in any form or function. I wish Mr. Vick an unpleasant stay in jail. I hope he reforms, is released, and then returns to contributing his unique skills as a football player to society. May he never touch a dog again.

Admittedly, there are some things the South
should never live down.

To condemn Vick is both right and popular. To defend him is your choice, one I disagree with but, as Voltaire might have said, I defend to the death your right to do so. I simply take umbrage to the people who defend Michael Vick.

During a recent telecast of The View –– the moronic program where over-caffeinated women of leisure pretend to represent an entire gender –– new Viewer Whoopi Goldberg decided to make a splashy debut with this pointed observation:

“Goldberg said that ‘from where (Vick) comes from’ in the South, dog fighting isn’t that unusual.

‘It’s like cockfighting in Puerto Rico,’ she said. ‘There are certain things that are indicative to certain parts of the country.’”

In defending Michael Vick, Whoopi damns the South. Hee-haw! We’re all electrocuting pit bulls or body slamming the life out of Rottweilers! That’s just good Southern fun! It must be noted that Ms. Goldberg was born in New York City. How she came by such revealing insight to Southern society is a mystery to the Angry Czeck. Oh wait. She starred in a movie about the South once. She’s an expert.

Thanks for your insight, Whoopi.

People who do not call the South home are comfortable keeping us where we are. They pretend to revile our shameful history and our morally murky present, but they do so only to shed a spotlight on their self-perceived goodness. When there is a massive race riot in Los Angeles, it is an isolated moment to be studied and improved upon. When a Louisiana high school is exposed for having racial unrest, it’s an indictment on an entire region.

It’s not just limited to northern snobbery. Hollywood is the biggest culprit, routinely churning out so-called highbrow exposés of evil Southern societies bent on cleansing the white race. How often to you see the antagonist in a big blockbuster spouting his villainous mantra with a slow, southern drawl? How does a guy like Kiefer Sutherland, raised in England, obtain so many of these roles?

If only this unchecked stereotyping were confined to action movies and dramas. Comedic movies are even worse. Here comes the sophisticated New Yorker! How will he cope in a backwards Southern town where the sheriff leaves the cell doors unlocked and everybody cuts work at noon to go pole fishing? How many “I married my cousin!” jokes can we pepper into the script? Let’s insert a KKK cross burning into the plot to give it social relevance! Remember, Southerners don’t have any ambition outside of getting their moonshine across the state line! Our uptight New Yorker sure is in for some culture shock! I smell Oscar!

During the racial tensions of the 1960s, redneck law enforcers were often seen on camera, announcing to the world that “meddling Yankees should leave us alone.” Fifty years ago, the South sorely needed meddling Yankees.

Today, I’d rather that they stopped “helping.”

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