Rednecks, RMNOR, and Rocking Roosters

Oliver Anthony’s song “Rich Men North of Richmond” has exploded in the face of the Washington narcissists and their Woke weasels and weasel-etts. The concussion has loosened a rumble, particularly among the cackling hens who once craved “equality” but now realize the old expression that “It’s a man’s world” may have meant something other than it was “literally” (that so often ill-used word) so.

And the initial crowd, from many years back, of Title 9 warriors and cheerleaders happily has gathered up allies along the way—not understanding or realizing what trashy allies would greedily latch on.

Rich MEN North of Richmond. Men? What men?

Rich Eunuchs North of Richmond would be more appropriate. Nothing but Woke women up that way to rule. Rules by fools. The degeneration of both creation and political republicanism that would make Eve proud that she lied, lives, in that cold corrupt northern clime north of Richmond.

"Woke" had its birth (and afterbirth) in the "women's movement." It spilled over and gave birth to other movements: racial, sodomy, abortion…and generally any idiotic concept that one could conjure through the human imagination. The litany of these things always had Washington standing by to support, praise, and, of course, fund (with kickback votes in return) with taxpayers’ money (charged of course to their 30 trillion-dollar debt).

And the bill has always come back to the Roosters and Rednecks. But the final debt will be on the henhouse’s books. Oh, yes. The Roosters will crow and the Rednecks will swear, but the cackling will continue with; “It’s his fault.” If one dies, both die.
These hens also have learned, though still may not admit it, that there are not two genders of people, but there are two sexes of people. For the public school and university crowd, “words” have a gender, “people” have a sex. But employing sanity to persuade, is not contemporarily “de rigueur” for the Woke weasels. They bow to the “ladies.” Weasels have no courage.

Those bureaucratic lovers of Life by the Potomac are perhaps worrying that their “progressive” constituents are, in all their stupidity, being taught through some redneck musical twang that Sex and the Single Girl was a book written by Helen Gurley Brown for the liberated woman and not a high-class bourgeois sex vacation for the nouveau riche. It is (was) not a “Love Boat” manual for Jeffrey Epstein’s island of paradise for rich jackals. Or maybe…hmmm, who knows? Maybe Brown was actually a sheep in wolf clothing!

But whatever subliminal poetry Mr. Anthony intends, government believes itself to be mammon’s altar; and Anthony’s song is a great high-pitched bleating.

That altar expects receipt of all sacrifice from sex, sex deviations and derivations to taxes and screaming sheep. Perhaps it is the Anti-Doxology: “Praise Deep State from whom All Blessings Flow”?

And taxes always go up, and up and up when labyrinths of so-called government are created out of bureaucratic mental magic. Someone has to pay. Stupidity produces nothing, and corruption cost plenty.

Rednecks, also, are sinful, but they don't believe in sin. They are ashamed of it. They don't believe they can be cured, only saved.

Roosters no longer crow, alerting all that the sun is rising. They crow because all the corn in the yard has been eaten by perverts, green monsters, and spoiled children who are paraded before international cameras explaining how the world works, works badly, and must be corrected.

But even deeper is the revelation that Brown's instructions and recommendations wrought the same sassy and silly solutions as per Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony. The underlying message was that Men and Women are the same, ipso facto equal in “mind and body.”

“RMNOR” isn't the end-all and be-all of return fire at the Woke and Washington crowd. But it has enough buyers out there in the best-seller and #1 I-Tune crowd to get the attention of the progressives, whether congressmen, senators, judges, governors, or local district attorneys and mayors.

As one of the so-called generations (Z, X, Boomer, whatever) remembers and states; “roosters rock.”

Whether or not it (RMNOR) lasts, considering the various publications and reports of testosterone shortage in the U.S. is anybody’s guess. We’ll see. Man-shortage is the problem. Not the sperm count—the delinquency count.

If you not only hear the words, in song, but observe Mr. Anthony’s face, the lines in it, the focus of his eyes, and, as well, absorb the spirit of his composition you see not just someone who turned down several million dollars for the golden opportunity for gold; but you see the eyes, the facial lines and the vision of not only a man, but a gentleman, we hope—if and only if, there is TRUTH there. Certainly, there are still a few of that breed. Culture and strength? No sale to the media trash (the body whole).

But, down South we know well the scalawag, and we know well the gentleman-- and the lady. We have seen the vileness of the one and the honor of the other. Hopes are that this will be a song of the second. Time will tell.

And contrary to the caricature clownish floor speakers and babblers in Congress, there is no such thing as a “gentlelady”. Women who are ladies are such, often in spite of men, not because of them.

Sing us a happy tune master and musician: For the farmer, worker, mother, father, brother, sister, soldier—taxpayer, and blood-shedder all.

Raise your voice so that others of the timbre of Thomas Paine and Patrick Henry are wakened to shout, again. And to those men in their graves who haunt and heckle today’s monstrous “people” in Washington, D.C.; the same people who lie to us and steal from us. Split their eardrums with song; chase their blackened spirits into fires hotter than hell!

Sing it from your Virginia home, and sing it loud, and sing it long, Boy.

​Sing it!

DON’T THREAD ON ME!