Ain’t Nothin’ Says a Feller Cain’t Learn Nothin’

One Ugly Mug 2
One Ugly Mug
Thish hyar ole hillbilly aint much fer beleevin in thangs other foaks sez. Foaks’ll tell yuh, “Thish hyar sham pooh will make yore hair shannier and git ewe more wimmen then ewe kin shake a stick at.”

Ain’t no truth to it. Truss me. Bin air; dun at; got the scars on muh skalp tuh pruve it.

But sinst Ah wuz jist a liddle ole hillbilly, thaze one thang Ah had hyeerd tell thet Ah thott wuzz the God’s most honestest truth.

Ah wuz told tam an tam agin they ain’t no way a carp’s gonna take a lerr. An Ah wint an toald foaks the same thang. “Doant aiven thank about it,” Ah’d say. “Aint no carp nohwirr no tam noways evver taken no lerr.”

Well, culler thish hyar ole hillbilly a bratt shade of rong.

Yissterdy aivnin, Ah wuzz out fishin on Lake of the Als. Ah wuzz fishin with a lerr–a Rappluh Shaller Shad. Ah thoad it in cloast tuh the bank, twixt thuh bank an a mess of lily pads–an sumthin hit it.

Ah thot: at air is a natty fan bass.

Ah coulden take no lan up on the rail. Ah’d tern thuh handle, an Ah coulden git it tuh do nothin.

Purdy soon, Ah disaddid hit coulden be no bass. Hit was too big.

Fanly Ah got it up tuh the surfiss soze Ah kud see it. An hit warnt nuthin seppin a big ole carp.

Ah didden wanna brake muh rod ner bust muh lan, speshly coz Ah am rat fond of thuh Rappluh lerr Ah wuz a-yoozin. Soze Ah took muh naidle-nose plars an pluckt thuh lerr outen the ole carp’s mouth.

Ah taiken a cupple of pitchers. Thay aint suh sharp, mainly cozz thuh ole carp wuz a-moovin all thuh tam. But hittle give ewe an eye-deer. Ah wreckin thuh ole thang wood go mebbe ate er ten pownz.

Ah aint suh prowd bowt ketchin me no carp, seppin Ah cott it on a lerr. Thet’s strainj. Iffen Ah hadden had enuff mash tuh drank, Ah matter thott Ah wuz havin me sum deleeryum tree mens. In fack, Ah wuz suh consarned Ah give muhseff a blood test atter Ah let thuh ole carp go. Ah drawed off bout a teaspoon of blood and put a match to it. Shore nuff, hit burnt jiss fan, with a long blue flame. At let me no thet muh blood alkie haul content wuz jiss rat.

Laiter on, Ah ketched me a purdy nass liddle ole bass. Thuh ole carp woodah maid sicks er seven of at air liddle ole bass. Still, Ah lackt thuh ole bass a hoal sat bedder. Carp’s jiss an ugly critter. Kanly remands me of a praicher Ah yooster no, feller yooster come rown an preech tuh me bowt goin tuh church. Mebbe haze dun bin re in car naited.

Another on the Devil's Horse

The Ole Hillbilly Gits Hizzeff a Nuther Ward

The Award

Yup, thish hyar ole hillbilly has dun got hizzeff a nuther ward. Thish hyar ward iz the Inner Peas Ward. Hit wuz giv to me bah Ms. Marlyn Suarez Exconde, hooze got herseff a fan blog naim of Kintal.

Now hoal on jiss a minnit. Ah kin hyar awl of yawl. Yore awl a-yappin lack a room full of rich fellers at a kuntry club, kumplainin bowt tacksiz hwalst a pore gal er feller is a-servin em ten-doller dranks. Yore awl a-sayin, “Ole hillbilly, jiss hwin have ewe evver had yoarseff a ward afoar? An hwut wuz it foar ennywaze? Moast mash drunkt up in a day?”

Well, hits the God’s onnist truth. Thish hyar ole hillbilly did wunst git hizzeff a ward.

Ah member it lack hit wuz yestiddy. Hit wuz muh fith tam goin thoo foarth graid. Ah warnt but sick-stain yares old. Atcherly, Ah wuz hickzackly sick-stain yares an wun day old.

Ah wreckin iffen Ah am a-gonner tell yawl bowt it, Ah naid tuh kummince at thuh beginnin. Hwich was the day afoar Ah got the ward, an at wuz muh berthday.

Ah rattled in late to skool at day. Ah hed bin down at the dravvers lassinz stayshun, taikin the dravvin test, an hed dun got me muh dravvers lassinz.

So Ah shoad up at skule rown bowt levven er levven-thirty. Ah wint on down thuh hawl tuh muh class, oapind the doar, an skwaized inter muh desk.

Ah member Ah wuz sittin bah thish hyar gal naim of Debby Hail. She lookt up at me an sed, “Bowt tam yew got hyar, ewe big ole nukklehaid. Ewe dun mist the rithmuhtick test.”

Thet maid me rat prowd. Ah didden keer nuthin fer no rithmuhtick tests, an far as Ah kood tell, rithmuthtick tests didden keer nuthin fer me.

Jiss then the taicher cawed out. “Boy, jist hwat in tarnayshun er ewe dewin hyar?”

“Ah was spectin tuh larn sumthin er nuther,” Ah sed.

The taicher lookt at me. Her naim wuz Mizz Hatfield. She moas jinrully traited me lack Ah wuz a McCoy.

“Ain’t ewe dun turnd sick-stain?” she axed.

“Jiss rat now tuhday,” Ah antsered, rat promp lack. “At’s hwah Ah didden git hyar till now. Ah wuz down gittin muh dravvers lassinz.”

Mizz Hatfield kanly goggled at me. Thin she wint oaver an cawlt summun on the innercom.

Liddle Debby lookt up at me. “Ewe aint got no dravvers lassinz,” she sed. “Ewe caint raid good nuff.”

“Shoaz hwat ewe no,” Ah rupplad. Coarse, she didden no it, but moast evverbawdy down to the dravvers lassinz stayshin wuz a-purchissin air likker fum muh daddy.

Ennywaze, bowt then thuh printispull waddled into the room. He wade bowt fore-hunnert an fitty powns.

He lookt rown an seen me. “Less go down tuh thuh offiss,” he sed.

Ah maid muh way outten muh desk, an we wint down. Ah figgered Ah wuz in fer a nuther paddlin. Hit didden maik me no nevver mand. Ah hed bin swattid too menny tams. Muh behand wuzz callussed up lack a senator’s soul.

But the printisipull, Mister Statler, didden taik down his paddle. He jiss lookt at me a hwal.

“Aint chew sick-stain now?” he fanly axed.

“Hats rat,” Ah sed. “Ewe foaks is jiss rat on top of that. Mizz Hatfield menshunned it two. Yawl is jist offal kand-harted.”

“Kand-harted,” he sed. “Ah wreckin.” Then he staired at me sum moar. “Ewe no,” he sed, “wunst a feller terns sick-stain, he aint got to go to skool no moar. Ewe kin jiss taik off on out of hyar.”

Ah shook muh haid. “Ah am hurt,” Ah sed. “Jiss plum hurt. Mah daddy didden raze no kwitter. No, Ah sand up tuh grajjy-ate, an Ah wreckin Ah’ll jiss keep a-hammrin away till Ah git mahseff grajjy-ated. Ah plan on bein the furst of mah fambly tuh grajjy-ate. Ah no mah mamma is gonna be prowd. Mah daddy will be to, pervadded he aint too drunkt up.”

Mister Statler’s ah-bawls bowt bload outten his haid. “Grajjy-ate! Grajjy-ate! Yore a-plannin on grajjy-aitin!”

“Ewe aint got tuh yell. Ahm rat char in frunt of yuh.”

He wapt his haid. “Ewe dew unnerstan that ewe aint but in the foarth graid, and yore dun turnd sick-stain yares old.”

“Corst Ah no that.”

“Yore labble tuh be fitty er sicksty yares old foar ewe grajjy-ate.”

“Ah no,” Ah sed. “But Ah am in it fer the long hawl.”

“The long hawl,” he sed.

Ah lookt rown. “Thaze kanly a ekko in hyar,” Ah hobbserved.

“Day in, day owt,” he sed. “Showin up. Sellin mash tuh foaks rat char in skool.”

“Ah doant sell it tuh nobawdy seppin sum of the taichers,” Ah sed. “An thuh sooperintindint.” Ah giv it a thunk. “An moas of the skool bored.”

He jiss sat stairin at me fer a hwal, not sayin nuthin. Thin he oapened up a desk droar an pullt owt a Mayssin jar.

“Well, lookee thar,” Ah sed. “Ewe got choreseff a kwart of muh daddy’s fannest mash rat char.”

He didden say nuthin. He jist unskrood the lid and taikin hizzeff a drank. The too-pay wint an bload offen his hed, an hit got stuck on the seelin fan. But he didden do nuthin. He jiss sat air, an evver now an en he taikin hizzeff a sip of mash, hwalst his hare wuzz a-goin rown an rown on the fan.

Ah set air a hwal, a-watchin im drank. Ah thott bowt askin fer a sip muhseff, but he didden look lack he wuz intristed in shairin. Ennywaze, Ah hed dun drunk a kupple of kwarts at moarnin on the way tuh skool.

After a hwal, Ah wint on back tuh Mizz Hatfield’s class.

The next mornin, Ah droav muhseff tuh skool agin. Muh daddy had dun give me the fitty-thray GMC flatbed thet Ah still drav.

Ah parkt the ole flatbed and wint in, an thay wuz a hole passle of foaks waitin fer me in the lobby. “Suppraz!” they awl yelled.

Mister Statler come up an grabbed me bah the arm. “Jiss come on in the odditoaryum,” he sed.

Ah wint in, an they had banners, an the band wuz playin, an awl tuther stoodints wuz a-sittin in the blaichers. Thay wuz a red carpit roald owt, a-laidin up tuh the staij on tuther sad of the odditoaryum.

Kwick as ennythang, Mister Statler an a kuppler of others thoad a cap an gown on me an kummincet tuh pushin on me. “Go on up the al!” thay sed. “Go on!”

The band wuz a-playin at song they allus play fer grajjy-aishuns, “Pumpin Circus Dance.”

Ah lookt back down the al. Mister Statler an Mizz Hatfield wuz air, waivin air hands at me. “Go on! Go on!”

Ah lookt rown. The banners awl red, “Con-Agra Layshuns on Yore Grajjy-Aishin, Young Hillbilly!”

Ah win on up the al an clambed up on staij. The sooperintindint wuz air, an the skool bored, an awl the taichers Ah hed evver had, seppin too er thray hwut wuz still lockt up in the loony bin.

Mister Statler ran up behand me. He wuz purdy sprah fer a feller hoo wade bowt as much as a bale of cotton.

He wint up tuh the lecturn an started a-tawkin inter the mackerel-foan, tellin evverbawdy how much Ah hed larnt, an how Ah hed dun passt a test thet shoad Ah wuz brillyunt–a jeenyuss, in fack–an so thay kooden taich no moarn thay hed awreddy dun tott me, so they wuz a-onner giv me muh diploamer, an Ah wuz gonna be fray tuh persoo hwatsumevver cawlin Ah seed fit tuh persoo.

En ay stuck the diploamer in muh hand, an thay wuz awl a-shaikin muh hand, an sum of em wuz a-crahin.

An ay giv me a ward, too. Ah dun kep hit awl eze yares. Ah taikin a pitcher of it fer yawl. Hits got a liddle plack on hit with sum rattin on it: “MASTER DEBATER,” hit sez.

So now Ah dun got me too wards, an Ah aint but fitty-sicks yares old.

Mebbe Ah’ll fand at air Debby Hail an tell er.

The ole hillbilly on brangin up yore young uns

Image

Dear Old Hillbilly,

My wife and I are expecting our first child. At the baby shower, one of our friends gave us a copy of your book Brangin Up Yore Young Uns the Hillbilly Way. I assume that the gift was made as a joke. We began reading the book, our faces growing more aghast with each page. For a time we tried to explain the book itself as nothing more than an ill-considered joke, a spoof on child-rearing manuals. We could accept that explanation–despite the absolute lack of humor in your apparently unedited text–so long as we were reading chapters with titles such as  “Yore Young Un’s Furst Coon Hound,” “Traytin Rangwurms with Mash,” “Clainin Dapper Pales with Mash,” and “Dravvin Way Em Air Noazy Chal Pertecktive Surviss Foaks with Yore Twel-Gaij.”

But then we read the chapter “Innerdoosin Yore Young Un tuh Mash,” including the advice to “kaip the young un’s mama well drunkt up soze her brest mikk is chawk full of alkiehaul. Thaddle giv thuh young un a nacherl taist fer mash.” Just what in the world were you thinking?

Please note that we are not ourselves unintelligent. We each hold advanced degrees; we are both highly paid professionals; and, as something that you can perhaps understand, we own three Audis. Thus, our comments deserve some weight.

Sincerely,

Furious

Dear Oaners of Thray Outties,

Ah am kunfyoozed. Duz aich wun uv yawl hav thray bellybuttins, or dew yawl hav thray bellybuttins twain yuh? Iffen sew, iz air wun of ewe thets got too bellybuttins, an wun thet aint got but one?  Or dew yawl aich hav wun thets kanly fixt on yuh, an then thaze anuther thet yawl swap aroun? An dew yawl hav oanly audis, or dew yawl also hav innies?

Ah doant main tuh be rood, but thish hyar ole hillbilly aint nevver herd sich lack in awl muh laff.

Ennyway, let me antser yore kwisschun. Ah wuz a trahin’ tuh shed sum lat on a vext subjickt. Thaze sum foaks thaddle jiss hand a young un a boddle of mash strate offen thuh still thouten furst gittin um yoost tuh sumthin a liddle weeker. Coarse, thaze menny thaddle put a liddle mash in thuh boddle, hwich is a kander an jentler way.

But thaze sum thet doant hold with givvin a young un mash til thuh chall iz as much as twel er thurtain yares old. Jiss lay yore ahz on the pitcher Ah am attachin. “NOT FOR BABIES”? Well, mebbee Uncle Cooter’s mash aint fit fer nobawdy nohwair. Ah wreckin that aint tripple distilled, lack thuh ole hillbilly’s Speshul Rokkit Fule Mash. 

Ennywaze, they iz jist a passle of diffurnt ahdeeyers rown bout thish hyar isshoo. An Ah wreckin muh advass is thuh best: iffen thuh mamas drunkt up awl thuh tam, thuh young un’ll git a nacherl taist fer mash. Purt soon, thuh liddle un’ll be a toddlin roun, draggin his er her oan jug an stoppin fer thuh kaizhnull sip, jiss lack thuh chal’s pappy. 

An at air is the troo hillbilly way.

The ole hillbilly on maikin mash

Deer ole hillbilly,

Ah hev red yore book Makin Mash the Hillbilly Way, an Ah hev follered yore dreckshuns rullijussly. Thoanly thang is, muh mash hez got a terrbull hwang to it. Hwin Ah uncork a jug, hit kills skeeters fer haff a country mahl. Hev ewe got enny ideear as tuh hwut wint rong with muh mash?

Sanned,

Failin the pang of hwang

Deer hwang pang,

Ah am gonna take it fer granit thet ewe hev yoozed ewe a kopper kittle an a kopper wurm. Aint no yooce a thankin, Ahll jiss run thish hyar mash thew an ole raidyaiter. Hit aint a-gonna taist rat iffen ewe dew it, an yooze a-runnin the risk a blandin yore kusstimmers. Aint no yooce in blandin yore kusstimmers. Yooze aimin fer rupait kusstimmers, an bland kusstimmers is gonna have a hard tam fandin thair way tuh yer dore. Hit doant madder how good the mash smezz, a feller aint gonna fand it iffen haze bland.

Ennywaze, Ahm a-soomin thet ewe is dewin evverthang else jiss rat. Iffen thets the case, thin moar lackly thin not, ewe hev got ewe a raccoon er mebbe a possum er two in yer mash. Yood bess git out yore net an go a-dippin in the mash barl.

Now, they is fellers’ll tell ewe, a coon er possum er two doant make no nevver mand. But thems the same folks thettle bile air mash thew raidyaiters. An thems the same folks thettle sell ewe thet ole thump-kaig hwisky. The ole hillbilly doant hole nun with thump-kaig hwisky. Hit aint as smooth as the dubble-run mash discrabbed in muh book.

So ewe git yoreseff a-dippin with at air net. Ah wreckin yule soon dip ewe up a coon er possum er two, an mebbe a kupple of aich.

Yoars trewly,

The ole hillbilly

PS: Iffen ewe doant mand, sind me a kupple of jugs of at air mash with the hwang to it. Iffen ittle drav off skeeters, Ah wreckin Ah got me sum new after-shave.

Naibers

Ah tole yall hwut happind with the ole hillbilly an the skeeters down at Lake Calhoon. Well, wunst Ah hed givven up on fishin, the ole hillbilly staggerd back up the rode tuh muh howse, figgerin thet iffen Ah wuz a ottomobeel I’d be rown bout fore pants er so low of ole on thuh dipstik. Firse thangs bein nacherl-waz first, Ah drankt up rown bowt six pants of muh speshul rokkit fule mash, hwich the ole hillbilly keeps a speshul barl of tucked awaze. Ah figgerd thet six pants otter bowt fill me back up an give me a liddle leeways, casen Ah hed sprung a lake fum the skeeters a-batten on me.

Wunst Ah wuz topt off, Ah rekkind Ah wud bile off anuther gallen er fore of muh mash. Soze Ah lit me a far under muh still an kummincet tuh bilin.

Bowt then a feller moseyed down the path besads muh howse. He wuz awl cleand up sumpthin fierce, an his hare wuz awl combed an shanny lack, an he wuz a-warin a pank shirt an sum blew britches. Ah figgerd he hadden nevver wore no overhauls an probly didden even have nun in his war drobe.

Ennyways, thish hyar feller moseyed up an he sez, Ah rekkin ewes the noo naiber hyar bouts.

Ah tuk a pull on muh jug an Ah sez, Ah rekkin so, lessen thaze summun nooer.

Aint nun thet Ah noe nuthin bowt, sez thuh feller. Thin thish hyar feller kumminces to nozin bowt, an purt sune he pix up one of muh cain poals and ahz it a hwal kinely seryus lack.

Thet aint fer sail, Ah sez. Hits muh speshul fishin poal.

Ah aint a wantin tuh bah it, the feller shot back. Ah wuz jist a-thankin, tho, thet thish hyar cain poal lucks rat smart lack sum bam boo thet Ah had in muh yard. Aint so mutch of it now as I had afoar. Ahm a-thankin mebbe sum feller cut down sum of muh bam boo and maid it into fishin poals.

Ah kinely lookt at the feller an axed him, Ewe cyoozin me of stailin yore bam boo?

Ah aint cyoozin ewe of nuthin, the feller sed. Ahm jist maikin a obser vayshun.

Ah skratcht muh haid. Ah doant no nuthin bowt no obser vayshun, nor nuthin bowt no vayshuns at awl. But seein as yer muh naiber, Ah rekkin Ah ott tuh awffer ewe a drank.

Ah pored sum mash intuh an ole Bama jelly jar an handid it tuh the feller. He kinely giv it a goggly look, kinely lack he wuz one of em air wall-ahed fish thet thay hev got up hyar.

Go ahaid an drank it, Ah sed. Hits gud fer hwat ails yuh. Ennywaze hits moasly wadder.

So the feller tuk him a sip, an then his faice terned panker than his shirt, an his haid kinely swelt up bowt fore er fav tams hits yoozhul saz, an thin he felt down on the groun. He lade thar on his sad an kummincet tuh kikkin rown in liddle sirkles an barkin lack a dog thet hez dun et a week-old skunk offen thuh rode an thin desadded that warnt the best noshun thet evver run thew his haid.

Ah let the feller bark an kikk a hwal, thin Ah hault him up an give him a nuther nip of muh mash. He wint awl stiff lack, jist lack a bored, an his faice ternt the purdiest blew culler the ole hillbilly hez ever sane.

Him beein all stiff lack, ewe wood thank hade a bin hard to kerry, but hit warnt so bad. I jist thoad him oaver muh shoalder an hawlt him back oaver tuh his howse. His waff seed me yankin him up thuh steps, an she bussled owt an startid a-bawlin an askin, Hwut in the wurl ivver happint? Oh lordy lordy.

Yore huzbind got hizzeff a drankin problim, Ah said. Feller jist caint hoald his likker.

But she jist kepp a-bawlin an cawlin lordy lordy, so the ole hillbilly kinely sloped away.