Yuppp, you found the Old Hippie’s Red Neck site. Now before you have a heart attack, I’m a Conservative Old Hippie from Texas. I drive a pick up and listen to Willie, Waylon, and Jerry Jeff. As I post this humr, I laugh at how I am occassionally poking fun at myself.

That said, I hope that you will not only enjoy this site — but that you will pass it along to others.

The Old Hippie

http://www.god-bless-texas.ning.com

This is a site set up for Texans to network with each other. While more details can be found by clicking on the Notes tab, and the the About link — in a nutshell the benefits of this site are:

• Allows for members to tell other members about their favorite events. Rodeos, concerts, car shows, motorcycle rallies, drag races, fairs, or any other event taking place in Texas.
• Allows for members to each have a blog — to document their thoughts. These blogs can be Public for all, private for friends only, or a mixture of both.
• Allows members to upload excellent Texas images — see the New Member’s Guide for more details
• Allows members to upload interesting Videos
• Allows members to have their own customized My Page
• Discussion Forums

Please join (its free and without strings), invite other Texans to participate, and become part of one of the greatest social groups in the world — Texans.

Prior to her trip to Texas, Buffy (a blonde), Confided to  her co-workers she had three goals .

1. She wanted to taste some real Bar-B-Que.
2. She wanted to take in a bonafide rodeo. And..
3. She wanted to have sex with a real cowboy.

Upon  returning, the girls were curious as to how she  fared.

‘Let me tell  you, they have a tree out there called a Mesquite and when they  slow cook that brisket over that Mesquite , it’s ooooh so  good. The taste is  unbelievable!’

‘And I went to  a real rodeo. Talk about athletes… Those guys wrestle full grown  bulls! They ride horses at a full  gallop, then jump off the horses and grab the bull by the horns and  throw them to the ground! It is just incredible!’

They then asked,
‘Well tell us,  did you have sex with a real cowboy?’

‘Are you  kidding? When I saw the outline of the condom they carry in the back  pocket of their jeans, I changed my mind!’

You take your dog for a walk, and you both use the same tree.

You can entertain yourself for more than an hour with a fly swatter.

Your property has been mistaken for a recycling center.

Your boat has not left the driveway in 15 years.

You burn your yard rather than mow it.

You think the Nutcracker is something you did off the high dive.

The Salvation Army declines your mattress.

Your entire family sat around waiting for a call from the governor to spare a loved one.

You offer to give someone the shirt off your back, and they don’t want it.

You have the local taxidermist on speed dial.

You come back from the dump with more than you took.

You keep a can of Raid on the kitchen table.

Your wife can climb a tree faster than your cat.

Your grandmother has “Ammo” on her Christmas list.

You’ve been kicked out of the zoo for heckling the monkeys.

You think a subdivision is part of a math problem.

You’ve bathed with flea and tick soap.

You’ve been involved in a custody fight over a hunting dog.

Your kids take a siphon hose to show and tell.

You think a hot tub is a stolen indoor plumbing fixture.

You took a fishing pole to Sea World.

You go to the stock car races and don’t need a program.

You know how many bales of hay your car will hold.

You have a rag for a gas cap.

Your father executes the “Pull my finger” trick during Christmas dinner.

Your house doesn’t have curtains, but your truck does.

You wonder how service stations keep their restrooms so clean.

You can spit without opening your mouth.

You consider your license plate personalized because your father made it.

Your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand.

You sit on your roof at Christmas time hoping to fill your deer quota.

Your working TV sits on top of your non-working TV.

You thought the Unibomber was a wrestler.

You’ve used your ironing board as a buffet table.

You think a quarter horse is that ride in front of K-Mart.

Your neighbors think you’re a detective because a cop always brings you home.

A tornado hits your neighborhood and does a $100,000 worth of improvement.

You’ve used a toilet brush as a back scratcher.

You’ve asked the preacher, “How’s it hangin’?”

You think fast food is hitting a deer at 65 mph.

Somebody tells you that you’ve got something in your teeth and you take them out to see what it is.

You’ve spray painted your girlfriend’s name on an overpass.

You consider a six-pack and a bug zapper quality entertainment.

When someone asks to see your I.D. you show your belt buckle.

Your Junior and Senior Proms had a day care.

Your mother doesn’t remove the Marlboro Light from her lips before telling the Cops to kiss her a**.

You’ve used lard in bed.

The primary color of your car is “Bondo.”

The directions to your house include “turn off the paved road.”

Your dog and your wallet are both on chains.

Your kids are going hungry tonight because you just had to have those Yosemite Sam mud flaps.

You owe the taxidermist more than your annual income.

You have lost at least one tooth opening a beer bottle.

Jack Daniel makes your list of “most admired Americans.”

Your wife’s hairdo has been ruined by a ceiling fan.

You see no need for a rest stop because there’s an empty milk jug in the car.

Your dog can’t watch you eat without gagging.

You have a Hefty bag on the passenger side front window of your car.

You barbecue Spam.

Your brother-in-law is also your uncle.

Red Man Tobacco sends you a Christmas card.

You bought a VCR so you could tape wrestling while you were at work.

Your dad walks you to school because you’re both in the same grade.

Your wife has a beer belly and you find it attractive.

You view the upcoming family reunion as a chance to meet girls.

You prominently display the souvenir you got at Graceland.

When your front porch collapses, three or more dogs die.

You’ve signed a petition to change the national anthem to “Nothing Could Be Finer Than to Be in Carolina.”

You call the boss “Dude.”

You think “Volvo” is part of a woman’s anatomy.

You consider your license plate personalized because your father made it.

You’ve been fired from a construction job because of your appearance.

Your father encouraged you to quit school because Larry had an opening on the lube rack.

You need an estimate from the barber before you get a haircut.

After making love you ask your date to roll down the window.

You pass out Styrofoam cups at your wedding reception for people to spit in.

To make sure this never happened to me, I got an electric fence and ran a single wire along the top of the fence. And I got the biggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had, made for 26 miles of fence.

I then used an 8 ft. long ground round, driven 7.5 feet into the ground.  The ground rod is the key, with the more you have in the ground, the better the fence works.

One day I’m mowing the back yard with my cheapo Walmart 6hp bigwheel pushmower.  The hot wire is broken and laying out in the yard.  I knew for a fact that I unplugged the charger. I pushed the mower  around the wire and reached down to grab it, to throw it out of the way. It seems as though I hadn’t remembered to unplug it after all.

Now I’m standing there, I’ve got the running lawnmower in my right hand and the 1.7 gigavolt fencewire in the other hand. Keep in mind the charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a picture of an upside down cow on fire on the cover.  Time stood still. The first thing I notice is my balls trying to climb up the front side of my body.  My ears curled downwards and I could feel the lawnmower ignition firing in the backside of my brain..  Every time that Briggs &  Stratton rolled over, I could feel the spark in my head.  I was literally at one with the engine.  It seems as though the fence charger and the POS  lawnmower were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.

Science says you cannot crap, pee, and come at the same time.  I beg to differ. Not only did I do all three at once, but my bowels emptied 3 different times in less than half of a second.  It was a Matrix kind of bowel movement, where time is creeping along and you’re all leaned back and BAM BAM BAM you just crap your pants 3 times.   It seemed like there were minutes in between but in reality it was so close together it was like exhaust pulses from a big block Chevy turning 8 grand.

At this point I’m about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding onto the fence wire.  My hand is wrapped around the wire palm down so I can’t let go.  I grew up on a farm so I know all about electric  fences… but Dad always had those POS chargers made by International or whoever that were like 9 volts and just kinda tickled. This I could not let go of. The 8 foot long ground rod is now accepting signals  from me through the permadamp Ark-La-Tex river bottom soil.  At this point I’m thinking I’m going to have to just man up and take it, until the lawnmower runs out of gas. ‘Damn!,’ I think, as I  remember I just filled the tank!

Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough.  It has settled into a loping run pattern as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam in it.  Covered in poop, pee, jizz, and with my balls on my chest I think  ‘Oh God, please die… pleeeeze die’.   But nooooo, it settles into the rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore roller cam EFI motor waiting for the go command from its owner’s right foot.

So here I am in the middle of July, 104 degrees, 80% humidity, standing in my own backyard, begging God to kill me.   God did not take me that day… he left me there covered in my own fluids to writhe in the misery my own stupidity had created… I honestly don’t know how I got loose from the wire…. I woke up laying on the ground hours later.  The lawnmower was beside me, out of gas.  It was later on in the day and I was sunburned. There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and then another long skinny dead spot were the wire had layed while I was on the ground still holding on to  it.   I assume I finally had a seizure and in the resulting thrashing had somehow let go of the wire.   Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep I realized a few things.

1- Three of my teeth seem to have melted.
2- I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek (not the left, just the right).
3- Poop, pee, and semen when all mixed together, do not smell as bad as you might think.
4- My left eye will not open.
5- My right eye will not close.
6- The lawnmower runs like a sonofabitch now. Seriously! I think our little session cleared out some carbon fouling or something, because it was better than new after that.
7- My balls are still smaller than average yet they are almost a foot long
8- I can turn on the TV in the gameroom by farting while thinking of the number 4 (still dont understand this?)

That day changed my life. I now have a newfound respect for things.  I appreciate the little things more, and now I always triple check to make sure the fence is unplugged before I mow.
The good news, is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualize what my security system will do to him, and THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which also reminds me to triple check before I mow.

He asked for help and she could see why.

Even with her pulling and him pushing, the little boots still didn’t want to go on.
By the time they got the second boot on, she had worked up a sweat.

She almost cried when the little boy looked up and said, ‘Teacher,
They’re on the wrong feet.’ She looked, and sure enough, they were.
It wasn’t any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on.
She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on, this time on the right feet.

He then announced, ‘These aren’t my boots.’

She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream,

‘Why didn’t you say so?’, like she wanted to. Once again, she struggled to help him
pull the ill-fitting boots off his little feet. No sooner had they gotten the boots off when he said,

‘They’re my brother’s boots. My Mom made me wear ‘em.’

Now she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. But, she mustered up what grace and courage
she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again.

Helping him into his coat, she asked, ‘Now, where are your Mittens?’

He said, ‘I stuffed ‘em in the toes of my boots.’

She will be eligible for parole in three years

1) Don’t expect to find filet mignon or pasta primavera at the local restaurant. It’s a cafe. They serve hamburgers and chicken fried steak. Let them cook something they know. If you confuse them, they’ll kick your ass.

2) Don’t laugh at the names (Merleen, Bodie, Bubba, Bobby Ray, Curley, Tammy Lynn, Billy Joe, Sissy, Clovis, etc.). Or we will HAVE to kick your ass.

3) Don’t order a bottle of pop or a can of soda. In Texas it’s called a coke. Nobody gives a damn whether it’s Pepsi, RC, Dr. Pepper, 7-Up or whatever - it’s still a coke. Accept it. Doing otherwise can lead to an ass kicking.

4) We know our heritage. Most of us are more literate than you (read some J. Frank Dobie).  We are also better educated and generally a lot nicer than you. Don’t refer to us as a bunch of cowboy hicks, or we’ll kick your ass.

5) We have plenty of business sense (e.g., Howard Hughes, H. Ross Perot, Southwest Airlines, Dell computers). Naturally, sometimes we have small lapses in judgment (e.g., Ann Richards) . However, we are not dumb enough to let someone move to our state just so they can run for the US Senate. If anyone tried to do that they would get a serious ass kickin’.

6) Don’t laugh at our Civil War monuments. If Lee had listened to Gen. Hood you’d be paying taxes to Richmond instead of Washington. If you visit the Alamo, take your hat off and be properly humble, or we’ll kick your ass.

7) We are fully aware of how hot it gets and how high the humidity is, so shutup about it. If you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen, or we’ll kick your ass.

Do not attempt to eat tamales without first removing their corn husk casing. Everyone will instantly know that you’re a Yankee. DO NOT, under any circumstances, complain that the chili is TOO hot or contains no kidney beans, this will get your ass kicked into next week.

9) Don’t talk about how much better things are at home because we know they are not. Many of us have visited Northern hell-holes like Detroit, Chicago, and DC, and we have the scars to prove it. If you don’t like it here, Delta is ready when you are. Move your ass on home-before we kick it.

10) Yes, we know how to speak proper English. We talk this way because we don’t want to sound like you. We don’t care if you don’t understand what we are saying. All other Texans understand what we are saying and that’s all that matters. Now, go away, or we’ll kick your ass.

11) Don’t complain that certain areas of this state smells of oil. If your livelihood depended on those wells you’d soon learn to love the aroma. Besides, None of OUR lakes or rivers have caught fire recently. If you whine about OUR scenic beauty, we’ll kick your ass all the way
back to Pittsburgh, PA.

12) Don’t ridicule our Texas manners. We say sir and ma’am. We hold doors open for others. We offer our seats to old folks. Such things are expected of civilized people. Behave yourselves around our sweet little gray-haired grandmothers, or they’ll kick your ass-just like they did ours.

13) Don’t think we’re quaint or losers because most of us live in small towns. We do this because we have enough sense to not live in crime infested cesspools like Baltimore. Make fun of our small towns and we’ll kick your ass.

14) DO NOT DARE to tell us how to cook barbecue. This will get your ass shot (right after it is kicked). Criticize the barbecue and you may go home in a pine box-minus your ass.

15) Remember, the only reason you are lucky enough to be here in the first place is because we have not pulled the Border Patrol off the Rio Grande and put them on the Red River (where they really belong) to keep your ass out.