Willie Nelson, hero of straight traditional-country-music lovers everywhere, has gone all brokeback on us.

That explains that long-ass pony-tail he prances around with. The world’s just gone plain crazy.

The handwriting was already on the wall

Jeremy Foley, the head of the Gainesville Gators Athletics Department and Trailer Park, is still crying like a colicky infant after the Vols kicked a mudhole in his basketball team and walked it dry Saturday night. Foley, a long-time thorn in Tennessee’s side, is using the fact that Vol fans rushed the court to launch an indignant attack on the school. Those in the know understand that Foley is simply lashing out wildly because he knows that Florida is about to begin a long period of being Tennessee’s roundball bitch.

Orlando Sentinel columnist Mike Bianchi is only too happy to carry Foley’s water and hold him close as Foley continues to gently weep.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

I’ve talked with several folks who were at the game and I’ve heard talk-radio reports from others who were there, and the consensus is that the celebration was orderly and anything but the “riot” it’s been described in the Gator press.

This reminds me of a classic line from The Jerk: “Hey! Don’t call that dog lifesaver. Call him… Shithead!”

Foley’s sudden concern for Tennessee fans is laughable, given the atmosphere Gator football fans have created over the years. I suppose the verbal assaults, the beatings, the obscenity barrages, the throwing of cups of urine on opposing fans, the assault on Phil Fulmer’s wife several years ago also caused Foley a bucketful of angst? Doubtful.

But wait – Bianchi wasn’t done with his estrogen-laden histrionics.

I must have missed that one. Can anyone provide any proof of Bianchi’s claim here? Or is it just more of the manufactured content that we’ve come to expect from the Old Media?

The only part of Bianchi’s column that I will agree with is that mobs rushing football fields and tearing down goalposts are a dangerous lot. However, I’ve always said – if you’re stupid enough to go down there, you get whatever you’ve got comin’. Just like the Missouri fan who took a forearm shiver from a Nebraska player a few years ago, if you’re worried about getting mauled or crushed by a goalpost, stay in the stands.

By all accounts, the post-Florida game celebration did not fall into the “dangerous” category. And while we’re on the subject, Foley, mind your own stinkin’ business and clean up your white-trash fan base before you try to clean up ours.

hat tip: Basilio

Before I start, let me just say, there are so many good reasons to hate Seattle.

There’s the Seahawks, who I’ve hated ever since Jim Zorn was unfairly run out of town on a rail. He was the only QB in the league at the time whose last name started with a Z, and that alone should have preserved his starting spot.

There’s also the constant rain. It’s no wonder all the grunge rockers in the early nineties wore flannel and played depressing minor chords. Then you have Starbucks, the Supersonics, Frazier, the Space Needle and countless hippies masquerading as urban hipsters drinking $8 lattes.

But now there’s a new reason to hate Seattle – the Recycling Nazis. If you live in Seattle proper, recycling is MANDATORY. And in 2006, they’ve started enforcing this leftist big-brother program by going through your trash and making sure there are no recycleables in your refuse.

Sounds like utter madness, but it’s true.

So you’ll either be slapped with a fine or have your trash sitting out for another week if you don’t comply with the Recycling Nazis.

I find it so delightfully ironic that the bedwetters on the left cry like colicky infants when the Feds listen in on phone calls to terrorists, but have no problem with the government coming and sniffing through your trash to make sure you’re in compliance with their little program.

So, Seattle, let me help you out. In the Holmes’ household we have a little saying: One World, One Trash Can. You’ll find plenty of recycleables in our trash, and that’s where they’ll stay – in honor of the Seattle Recycling Nazis.

Washington woman, in a final act of white-trash-pack-rat-defiance, sacrifices herself to the gods of clutter.

Death by bric-a-brac, knick-knack and souvenir. Tragic.

My beloved state of Tennessee is always on the cutting edge. We brought you Elvis. We brought you David Keith (who played Elvis in a horrible movie that I never watched). We were the first to bring you an isoceles-trapezoid-shaped state. Now we’ve redefined the cutting edge by creating an official state Crystal Meth registry. If that’s not an official white-trash database, I don’t know what is. More from the LA Times:

So if you’re in Tennessee and you want to find out which one of your neighbors is cookin’ up some Meth, log on and check it out. Don’t bother looking for me, though, I quit manufacturing Meth a couple of years ago. Couldn’t afford the cold medicine anymore.

Another tip – if you really want to put together a kick-ass party, bring in some of these honeys, invite some of these guys, then find your nearest Meth dealer and you’ve got the makings of a legendary shindig that will make history, baby.

What the hell has happened to my old stomping grounds? Germantown used to be so peaceful and serene.

Drunken naked Germantown man jumps from his roof, roams the mean streets of Germantown, firing his handgun.

Let me help the police out here. He either (1) can’t hold his liquor or (2) is insane in the membrane. A flabbergasted eyewitness:

I say this calls for tighter liquor control. Did Mr. Higgs have a concealed whiskey carry permit? Did he wait the required 48 hours between purchasing the liquor and actually drinking the entire bottle in one sitting? I’m sure liquor control activists will get to the bottom of this story. We’ll keep you posted with drunken naked gunman updates.

Nashville teen takes the eternal exit ramp by “car surfing”. What was his inspiration? Why, television of course!

A true friend would have said, “GET THE HELL OFF THE ROOF!” But, instead, we have yet another White Trash Wednesday™ Darwin Awards candidate.

A potential bombshell hits the Ford campaign this Holiday Weekend? I guess I know who’s giving Thanks. Considering how most people pay no attention to news that gets released on the afternoon they head out of town to visit with family, eat, and remember why they moved away in the first place – let me be the first to QUESTION THE TIMING.

The breaking news of an alleged, double-dealing Ford Family associate being under investigation for “perhaps” ushering terrorist suspects out of the country to be tortured has got to raise Jr.’s nose from his Starbucks. Better still – transporting poor, innocent victims of Bushitler hegemony out of the KKKountry for what I’m sure was brutal and culturally insensitive torture from the iniquitous hands of the CIA. Throttling the throat of a Free America no doubt.

At least that’s what the Looney Tunes would be impugning had Douglas R. Beaty been a contributor to say, Tom DeLay or some similarly “guilty until proven innocent” Repigletcan.

The Washington Post lays the suitcase nuke on Junior’s doorstep and gently walks away:

MEMPHIS, Tenn. — The law office of Douglas R. Beaty sits in a small business park near the city’s more prosperous suburbs. Nothing on the front door says anything about the CIA or airplanes.

But Beaty’s law office figures in an investigation into whether the CIA is secretly flying terrorism suspects to third countries for questioning and perhaps torture.

[...]

It is not uncommon to see Beaty’s name on records kept by the Tennessee secretary of state’s office. He is listed as a registered agent for more than 90 companies and has carried similar titles for more than 100 others that the state no longer considers active. More than 100 companies have shared his office address.

“All I do is real estate,” Beaty said when asked about his law practice.

He was also the incorporator and president of a small company, Tenn-Ford Inc., that figured in a Tennessee political scandal. Beaty and former Rep. Harold Ford Sr., a Memphis Democrat, were indicted on federal bank fraud charges in 1987 and acquitted in 1993 after two trials. The government argued unsuccessfully that Tenn-Ford was a shell company created to funnel payoffs to Ford from Tennessee bankers Jake and C.H. Butcher Jr.

If I am to believe OpenSecrets.org, after all of this prior controversy and historical familiarity with the Fords, Douglas R. Beaty gave $250 to Junior in 1996 and gave $1,000 to him in 2001.

Was this the only connection between Ford Jr. and a man who was close enough to his family to be previously indicted for fraud with his Father for ripping off banks?

(more…)

White trash bowler stumbles home from area bowling alley, allegedly feeds baby 100-proof breastmilk, then accidentally suffocates her. Sadly, the mother survived the tragic event.

I’m sure this will get me in trouble with the breast-feeding Nazis at La Leche, but when you’re trying to feed your infant 100-proof Smirnoff™ brand vodka shooters, shouldn’t you just use a sterilized bottle?

This just goes to remind us that just because any piece of human debris can reproduce, doesn’t mean they should. They should have sterilized this worthless hag long ago – especially with a track record like this:

She was prohibited from having unsupervised contact with all four of her children at once, but it was fine-and-dandy to let her destroy her four-month-old. I’m sure she’ll get another firm slap on the wrist from our modern justice system for this accident. The fact that a bowling alley was included in the story puts her firmly in the lead for the 2005 White Trash Mom-of-the-Year Award (and the accompanying diamond-studded princess tiara!).

With any luck, she’ll get shanked during her upcoming stay in the big house.

Katie’s tears of joy must have been plentiful when she heard the news of Andrea Yates getting a second trial for her five late-term abortions in 2001.

Ironically, the trial’s original prosecutors, recent graduates from the Marcia Clark Video Correspondence School of Lawyering in Southern California, got the idea for the “Law & Order” testimony while watching an episode of “Law & Order”.

She may have known it was wrong, but it felt so right.

There has been no word from the National Organization of Hags on whether or not Andrea will have to turn in her 2001 Reproductive Rights Superstar of the Year Award.

Tuesday night, San Diego woman Rachel Garza apparently got tired of dealing with her 2-year-old son and tried to kill him by pushing him in front of a freight train, then, when that failed, she tried a trolley car.

The good news is that the boy is now safe and the would-be-murdering-mother is behind bars. In the Six Meat criminal justice system, this woman would be tied to the tracks and run over by the next few trains to come through town. A woman this sick needs to be dispatched from the planet immediately.

If you happen to see this woman,
please push her in front of a train.

Way back in July, a bunch of white trash punks, who had obviously watched way too much MTV and fancied themselves some type of bad-ass gangstas, decided they were going to pull a drive-by and open fire on a group of people in a small neighborhood in South Knoxville.

In an act of heroism, Alisha Quillen, 19, was shot when she shielded a young girl from the gunfire and took a bullet herself. Since then, the state’s bungling of the case has made Marcia Clark and Chris Darden look like brain surgeons. Now, three of the gunmen and a driver have entered guilty pleas and may get off with probation.

Gangstaz with a Kapital G, dawg

On the bright side, I suppose, all four gangsta-wanna-bes received the minimum 8-year sentence, but will be allowed a shot at probation. I’m surprised they’re not already on some form of probation. Prosecutors are hoping the Fantastic Four will be able to help convict the plot’s mastermind (and I use that term very loosely) Corey McNew, and another dimwitted gunman, Christopher Bieszcz.

In a show of the kind of class and decorum one would expect from an alleged drive-by gangsta-wanna-be, McNew did a little victory dance during an earlier hearing when prosecutors failed to make their case and first-degree murder charges against McNew and Balch were tossed out.

So, when you think Knoxville, don’t just think hayseeds, banjos, mountains and moonshine. Think drive-bys and bad-ass white trash cracker-ass gangstas. Their parents must be so proud.

USC student Holly Ashcraft goes 2-for-2 in performing self-administered late-term abortions. Rumor has it that Molly Yard and Faye Wattleton embraced and shed tears of joy upon hearing of Ashcraft’s bravery on behalf of women everywhere.

Normally, that would be enough for the National Organization of Women to put her name in the hopper for National Reproductive Rights Superstar of the Year. However, to NOW’s delight, Holly is now 2/3 of the way through a hat-trick. Independent Sources reports that Holly was a suspect in yet another late-term abortion a year ago, but since authorities never found the body, she wasn’t charged.

Independent Sources also points out that there are Safe Surrender laws in place for women in just such situations and that when Holly allegedly abandoned late-term-abortion-#2 by the dumpster, she was a mere 42-second drive from a Safe Surrender drop-off spot. Hmmmm… tough call… dumpster? Safe drop off? Dumpster? Safe drop off? Decisions, decisions….

Though she sits in jail waiting for a kind passer-by to post her $2 million bail, she can sleep well at night, knowing that she’s up for the joint NOW & NARAL Reproductive Rights Superstar of the Year award for 2005.

Click to enlarge.

I have a feeling if there were more groups of intoxicated, armed crackers, there would have been quite a bit less looting during Katrina. Odds are, this neighborhood made it through without too much lawlessness – other than a little public drunkenness, and who hasn’t committed that offense? Put your damn hand down, Sean Hannity, you goody-two-shoes!

h/t Dad

UPDATE:

Apparently this photo has made it around the web a few times – just saw it on display at Iowahawk as well. Speaking of Iowahawk (one of the most consistently hilarious sites in the ‘sphere), we would like to thank David for adding us to the blogroll. We’re not worthy, but we’ll gladly take it!

Someone please stop these indie-country
rockers from staring at me. They’re menacing.

Last week, when the crew and I were driving up the gut of central Alabama, a tour bus drove past us with POVERTYNECK HILLBILLIES on the side – sponsored by 84 Lumber. My immediate reaction was, what the hell kind of ignorant-ass name is that for anything? Then I noticed the address for their website – povertyneck.com – on the side of the bus and Mrs. Holmes was quick with the pen and paper.

I don’t know what this has to do with White Trash Wednesday beyond the absurd name of the band and the menacing photo above. Unfortunately, their “official” website doesn’t have sound files, so I can’t even mock their particular brand of C&W, though I’m fairly certain it would fit into the nauseating genre of new Nashville country that should be stamped out with a size 15 snakeskin boot.

Much like nominee John “David-Souter-In-Training” Roberts, everyone’s favorite binge-dieting, gold-digging, drug-addled bimbo is heading for the highest court in the land.

It is heart-wrenchingly tragic when a love as beautiful and pure as that of Anna Nicole and Howard is dragged through the mud via the spotlight of the judicial system. Apparently, the late Howard Marshall’s son doesn’t believe in true love and the loving bond between a husband and wife – he wants Nicole cut out of the will altogether. Heartless, cynical bastard.

Let’s hope, for the sake of all that is good and pure, that the court realizes how much Anna Nicole truly loved her husband/cadaver and that she is due at least half of his fortune. Such a ruling would be a triumph and an inspiration to the many supporters of traditional marriage. Because there’s nothing more traditional than a crack-addled stripper marrying a crippled old man for a shot at mountains of cash.

It’s that day again. That day when we celebrate/mourn the seamy underbelly of our lily-white race. And for today’s confessional, we visit the Wal-Mart picketers of Henderson, Nevada.

Why are they picketing Wal-Mart? Was Wal-Mart somehow unkind to them when they worked there? Did a Wal-Mart greeter not greet them with the required amount of enthusiasm? Was one of them hit by one of those dangerous falling prices?

Why, no. They’re just picketers-for-hire, temp workers who are getting paid $6/hour marching in front of Wal-Mart – protesting the working conditions of the Wal-Mart employees inside as they stand around like morons in 104 degree heat.

So, they’re not technically union members, but they’re being hired by a union through a temp agency. Has anyone pointed out to them that they’re using non-union labor? Surely that’s a scandal in-and-of itself.

Now, does this demonstration make any sense? “No it don’t,” says their fearless – and apparently witless – leader.

Translation: CAN’T THEY SEE US UP ON THE CROSS OUT HERE? WE ARE SACRIFICING FOR THEIR SINS!

Maybe it’s because the people inside didn’t ask you to show up and make asses of yourselves, you slack-jawed cretin. With all due respect, of course. Sal Rivera (yeah, I know it sounds made up), the only picketer that had actually worked for Wal-Mart, had this to say about his time there:

A scathing rebuke, to be sure. And if you think they’re exaggerating when they talk about their brutal sacrifice for the unknowing Wal-Mart workers inside the air-conditioned building, think again.

Oh, gloom, despair and agony on them!

H/T Johnny Walker Red

Feelin’ guilty? Guilty of bein’ white? I know how you feel. Sometimes I’ll get up in the morning, look in the mirror and remember I’m nothin’ but a white-bread cracker-ass cracker. Then I throw up in the sink.

Luckily, I’ve found a few ways to cope. First, I’ve been attending Kill Whitey Parties (via Say Anything).

If there’s one thing I need more than anything else, it’s to kill my inner cracker. I wonder if I should use a 9 mm or a .40 cal.

But that’s not all… I believe I’ve finally found music that speaks to my inner rapper. You know… the one that is being repressed by my inner cracker. It’s all the bad-ass artists at Crunkland Records. Sure, you may not have heard of them, but I’m sure you’ve heard their music blasting out of the low-rider Honda Civics pulling up next to you in the ‘hood.

Take for example, BCG. He apparently killed his inner whitey a long time ago, and he can’t be tamed.

And don’t forget the rest of the Crunkland family – they’ve all killed their inner whitey as well. Good for them.

Well, now I have to go and pimp my ride and what-not. Keep it ri-zeal, biatches.

In addition to recent revelations that Courtney Love may have a minor substance abuse problem, it appears that Love is now knocked up with limey actor Steve Coogan’s baby.

Sadly, Love has already reproduced once. The terrifying thought that her genetics may be carried on by yet another human being is, at best, frightening.

The Hollywood News sheds a little more light on the relationship.

And what heterosexual male could resist falling for Courtney? My knees turn to rubber just thinking about her feminine beauty…

Esther disappointed in her failure to achieve Christopher Reeve status, lack of help from her “god”.

When finally reached for comment, Esther said that all she was trying to do was emulate her hero, Christopher Reeve, who, unfortunately passed away last fall.

“When I made the decision to throw myself from the horse and reap the public relations benefits that Chris got, I realized at the last minute that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. By that time, it was too late and I was hurtling towards the ground at a rate of speed that I wasn’t ready for. I cried out to Propecia, the mystical spirit of Kabbalah to save me from harm,” Esther lamented.

“I’m still not sure if that helped or not. I either thank Propecia for saving me from my death or blame Propecia for not saving me from serious injury,” added Esther.

I realize that I should have saved the Crazy Eyes Mowing post for WTW, but I was just so damn excited to see her back in the news – and doing yardwork – that I had to throw the post up there prematurely.

Instead, this week, you get the stories of two white trash Florida moms who both ought to spend a good deal of time in prison, but of course, they won’t.


The first is Darnell Lee Kreuzer, a mom who claims she pushed a 5-year-old girl out of the way to protect her from a vicious, bloodthirsty rolling golf ball at a putt-putt establishment.

She’ll get off on a white trash technicality, I’m sure. Not to be outdone, whitetrash shitbag Lori Marie Heine just couldn’t take her 7-year-old son’s complaining anymore and left him by the side of the road.

A young boy wandering up to a stranger in a park is never a good thing. Especially in Florida, where the state is crawling with unregistered sex offenders and Hector Vex.

When this piece of garbage, who should have been sterilized at birth, got to the station, predictably, she was hammered.

Wow. Two shining examples of why it’s a shame that anyone can procreate. We really should have some rules for that. Well, back to your Wednesday with you.

This past weekend, a Hillsboro (TN) woman, out for a good time on her ATV with a group of people, fell off a cliff at Cumberland Sand Mountain, resulting in her death.

One of the problems with this group is that they were out riding their ATVs in mountainous terrain at MIDNIGHT. Not too bright (literally and figuratively). Though none of the news reports have mentioned it, I would bet there was a little booze involved as well.

Riding ATVs in mountainous areas at night has become a popular past-time? Well, then it sounds like we’re going to have other WTW Darwin awards candidates to pick from as this fad continues.

Here’s a Six Meat Buffet safety tip: People often get killed on ATVs. People riding ATVs at midnight are really asking for it. Ride during the day, wear a helmet and don’t walk on the side of a cliff using your cellphone as a flashlight.

The good thing about White Trash Wednesdays is that, if you run out of ideas, all you’ve got to do is pick up the Knoxville News-Sentinel for material. Yeah, I’m feeling lazy.

Here we have the latest news in the story of the McMahon family. This crew is definitely in the running for WTW Family of the Year.

The family matriarch, Debra McMahon, had adopted cerebral palsy sufferer Karen Elizabeth Dreager, which on the surface, sounds like an awfully nice thing to do. What was not so nice was when Debra and her husband Paul kept Dreager’s $700 per month Social Security disability checks, then allegedly starved her to death.

Hopefully they’ll get what they’ve got coming once they get to prison. But, then again, maybe the courts will go easy on the family since starvation is such a peaceful way to die.

You may or may not have heard the story of William Patterson University Womens’ Studies Professor Arlene Hopp Scala. She is one of the many cancerous educational tumors currently festering beneath the skin of American colleges and universities.

Arlene, or Mr. Scala, as she likes to be called around campus, thought it would be just swell to send out an unsolicited e-mail to a variety of other university staff promoting an “upcoming viewing and discussion of the film ‘Ruthie and Connie: Every Room in the House.’ The e-mail referred to the film as a ‘lesbian relationship story.’”

University employee Jihad Daniel (nice name) didn’t appreciate the e-mail.

It was quite reasonable for Mr. Daniel to request not to be sent any further emails. However, because he didn’t properly celebrate Scala’s schoolhouse diversity, she felt “threatened.”

What a waste of oxygen. That is such a typical leftist response – I feel threatened – silence this opposing viewpoint at once! It interrupts me while I celebrate diversity!

And what did the university do? Predictably, they’ve reprimanded the employee instead of the teacher.

Mr. Daniel will soon learn that today’s college campuses are no place for free speech. Professors like Mr. Scala encourage a diversity of viewpoints, as long as they all parallel her own. She and her ilk need to cram it so far up their collective asses that it comes out their mouth.

So how do you respond when you see the Confederate flag? Did you recoil in horror? Did you shit your pants? Did you have no reaction at all? Did you spend the last few minutes crying and shouting “RACIST!” at your monitor while those around you stared on in bewildered discomfort?

Well, some local folk apparently do the latter in Maryville.

In a story semi-related to the outcry against the University of Mississippi for their use of the rebel flag and Colonel Reb, the Maryville Board of Education has voted to ban all flags – rebel, seasonal or otherwise – from Maryville High School football games.

The school board wrapped the flag ban in some blather about “safety,” but the motivation is obvious – political correctness, pure and simple.

If Ken had really wanted to sell the “safety” angle, he probably should have left off the part about “treading on the sensibilities of minorities,” which exposed (unshockingly) the true motivation behind the ban. While we’re on the subject, the American flag treads on the sensibilities of many leftists, muslims, Hollywood actors, rock stars and Jane Fonda – shouldn’t we have it removed from these games as well? The change in language used to implement the new policy is interesting as well…

This seems more in line with how we toothless Southern hicks talk anyway. Here is a sample of our daily interaction with one another:

Southerner #1: What ya’ll know?
Southerner #2: Not much, ya’ll. How’s yer still?
Southerner #1: Perty good. My last batch got me enough to afford this straw hat. Like it?
Southerner #2: Well, I thought yer last batch tasted like horse piss. Different strokes an’ all I guess.
Southerner #1: Them’s fightin’ words! Prepare to be vanquished, varmint!

At that point, both parties usually go back to their truck to get their shotguns off their gun racks and commence to shootin’. But I digress.

Back to the topic at hand… the old policy was meant to make sure nobody feels uncomfortable. If society continues down the politically correct path of making sure nobody ever feels uncomfortable, I guess we’ll finally achieve the Socialist Utopia where no one ever feels uncomfortable and everyone is equally miserable in every possible way. Shit, I felt uncomfortable the first 18 years of my life, and I came through alright (well, mostly).

So what’s my take on the “controversy”? I say let ‘em fly the flag. Leave Colonel Reb alone down at Ole Miss, while you’re at it. It’s a symbol of the old South – and I’ll be the first to admit, the history of the South isn’t pretty – but racism and slavery are only a piece of the South’s historic puzzle. I know those are the only parts of our history that the rest of the country cares about, because it makes us an easier target for their ridicule, but there’s a whole lot more to Southern history than that.

Sure, there are klanesque white-supremecist factions who have hijacked the flag as their symbol, but rational people can surely separate the flag from its more unsavory presenters. And while we’re on the subject of flags, they are just symbols, which is why I don’t support a constitutional amendment against burning the American flag.

If some jackass takes it upon his or herself to desecrate the American flag, they are exercising their right to free speech. They’re idiotic and vile, but they still have the right to do so. I also support judicial leniency against anyone who kicks their ass as a result, btw.

Okay, in looking back at this post, it’s absolutely lost any kind of focus, so I’m quitting. Long story short, quit yer bitchin’.