Yes, it’s true, the Appalachians are full of quaint little hollers filled with deformed blind witches and inbred abnormalities due to all the incest. And what’s even scarier is that they don’t have the cable tv or the internet or radios or even phonographs. Why, they don’t even know there’s an outside world, except when some Hollywood beauty comes through to be summarily either worshipped or defiled or eaten or some combination of the three.
Why, I remember when Bill Monroe first came to town. They had to put him out on the Opry stage three days early just to let him acclimate and even then, he’d be interupting his songs to beat his wife or fuck his cousin or get drunk on the moonshine. Don’t even get me started on Earl Scruggs. That man still calls all the guys he sees “Son” and all the girls he sees “Darlin'” because he’s in awe and confused by all the different names in the world.
I, myself, just to be safe, carry a stick so that I can protect myself from all the hillbillies ’round these parts. I’ll beat a hillbilly. Shoot, I’ll beat a Bill or a William just to be on the safe side.