Southern boy, but...

I am a southern boy. Born in the south, raised in the south. I like barbecue and corn bread and sweet tea and RC cola and Moon-Pies. I drive a pick'em-up truck. Hell, even as I type this I am listening to the Country Gentlemen and drinking George Dickel Tennessee whisky (no "e"). I am a southern boy. But. I don't hunt. I don't fish. I don't really give two shits about football, or baseball, or basketball. I'm a Democrat. I'm a liberal. Legalize drugs, ban war, keep your hands off of other people's bodies and your laws out of their bedrooms. So, in other words, I'm not exactly what one might think of when they visualize a thirty-something southern male. I do not have a shotgun or a rebel flag. Matter of fact, I'm not sure why some people want to fly those flags. (Yes, we lost a war 140 years ago. A bunch of stuff has happened since then. The telephone. The automobile. Aeroplanes. Several major wars. Halo I and II. Lots of stuff has happened since 1865. Time to give it up, pack it in. Come with us and join the 21st century.) My point is that you can't take a map of the United States, paint parts of it red and parts of it blue, and make sweeping statements about the people who happen to live in the red states and those who happen to live in the blue ones. No, we all don't watch NASCAR and go to a Southern Baptist Church on Sunday. Some of us are eating Indian food, playing XBox, listening to bluegrass, reading David Sedaris (a known homosexual-type). And yes, we pretty much all wear shoes down here.