It’s strange. I’ve had an unusual bout of homesickness lately. It started with a trip to Memphis King Barbecue with my friend Mike from Alabama (Jasper). I then went on websites looking at restaurant menus in and around Fairhope. Now I’m watching King of the Hill.

KotH, I know, was originally made to make fun of rednecks. But I’ve found parts of myself yearning for their lifestyle–standing around drinking beers, life so dull and peaceful that organizing tackle boxes and going to lawnmower shows sound exciting, backyard barbecues. I get how this show has lasted so long. The writing plays with stereotypes and breaks them. It makes social commentary with subtlety. And it pokes fun at a demographic that doesn’t mind laughing at itself. Look at the history of TV poking fun at the South–Beverly Hillbillies, Dukes of Hazzard, um, Jerry Springer. Even if I don’t agree with much of red state politics, I get them. I know how they tick. I miss living in a place where it’s 98 degrees in the shade, where going out to eat sometimes implies a tray at a cafeteria with two kinds of gravy, where common sense (though it takes its sweet ole time) usually prevails.

I so badly want to fire up my own grill in my own backyard. With squirrels. And fresh cut grass. And life is dull–in a good way.

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