I am a redneck. George Jones, though old, is still hot. Rascal Flatts with that new rappity-crap is not.

I am a redneck. When I say we’re having chicken for dinner, my kids know I mean fried.

I am a redneck. Larry the Cable Guy is pee-in-my pants funny, Robin Williams is a close second, and George Carlin only merits a polite smile.

I am a redneck. I’m still Daddy’s girl, and I still say yes’sir.

I am a redneck. When my mama calls me, I still come running, lickety-split.

I am a redneck. I still say the Pledge of Allegiance, and I still sing the National Anthem. I make sure my sons take off their hats to do both.

I am a redneck. There was nothing civil about the War of Northern Aggression.

I am a redneck. I believe the Bible is the inspired word of the Living God, from beginning to end, everything in the middle, don’t even leave out the “selah”s in Psalms.

I am a redneck. I know that if you take the Baby Jesus out of Christmas, all you have left is a gimmee-gimmee day, soon forgotten as you search for the next thrill, but if you leave Him in, you have a real reason to celebrate.

I am a redneck. I know that when friends fail you, faith and family will carry you through.

I am a redneck. I believe that when the Declaration of Independence says all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, it means just that.

I am a redneck. I believe life begins at conception, and that if we do not protect the oldest and youngest among us, we fail them, ourselves, and our charge from the Almighty.

I am a redneck. I believe that when you go out in public, you ought to be wearing more than your wore to bed last night, not less.

I am a redneck. I listen to you sling that word around thinking you are insulting me, because you really have no idea what it means, and I smile.

I am a redneck, and that’s a mighty good thing.

I am a redneck, and I am proud.

This post inspired by Marcus.

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