So, the dog and I were walking home across the AT&T yard where George Straight was blaring out of one of the vans. A black guy comes out of the building and, in a joking manner, says “Turn that crap off.” His white co-worker says, “Yeah, the only one of these guys black people like is Dwight Yoakam. We’ll get you some Dwight Yoakam, buddy, and then you’ll like country music.”
I think this may be the strangest stereotype of black people I’ve ever heard a white person spout. Obviously, I don’t like racial stereotyping, but I love imagining Dwight Yoakam as some kind of secret weakness of every American, they just don’t know it yet.
But then, I thought, if this is true, what a strange place Charley Pride’s house would be. He could never listen to his own music with any kind of satisfaction, because the only country artist he would care for is Dwight Yoakam.
Tiny Cat Pants 
He came on TV once while we were at a family party. My great-aunt looks up at the TV, watches for a few minutes, announces that she is sure he is a mysterious man, and then goes back to dealing the Uno cards. Her explanation was that they didn’t get many cowboys in Skokie.
Maybe this proves the secret weakness for every American theory?
That’s sort of hilarious.
I love Dwight but can’t help but recall his ex-girlfriend, Sharon Stone’s words: “a dirt sandwich is better than Dwight Yoakam”
In that video, I like how many syllables he can cram into the word “one”.
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I have a reply, ma’am, but it is long-winded (as you know I am) and I will not rudely take up your bandwidth nor all the room on your couch to tell it.
Wanna read it? Here it is. http://wp.me/p35Do-p9