WaPo’s opinion page blared, “Jason Aldean cashes in on the right-wing fantasy of violent retribution.” The hysterical headline refers to the country star’s song, “Try That in a Small Town,” released in May, and the related video, which came out this week.
The song has rocketed to #1 on the country charts.
I like some of Aldean’s work, though a lot of it tends toward the same-sounding stuff oozing out of Nashville these days. And “Small Town” isn’t a great song, really.
But its message is righteous, and Aldean is a true American. That, of course, has progressives clutching their pearls and crying, “Racist!” All because of lyrics like this:
Sucker punch somebody on a sidewalk
Carjack an old lady at a red light
Pull a gun on the owner of a liquor store
You think it’s cool, well, act a fool if you like
Cuss out a cop, spit in his face
Stomp on the flag and light it up
Yeah, you think you’re tough
Well, try that in a small town
See how far you make it down the road
‘Round here, we take care of our own
You cross that line, it won’t take long
For you to find out, I recommend you don’t
Try that in a small town
The video includes images of crime, flag burning, the rioting we all remember and the destruction of cities under the guise of “racial justice.” That, according to the Left, makes Aldean “pro-lynching.”
Seriously.
Difficult as it may be, could we try to agree that wanton violence and burning neighborhoods are bad things? Just agree on condemning that?
Fine. Now show me video of mobs of white Americans destroying the places they live, inflicting billions in damage on public and private property, breaking into businesses and taking shit that doesn’t belong to them. Or Americans of any race committing waves of crime and anti-American acts in the name of the white race.
You can’t.
We — including Jason Aldean — didn’t choose the race or the cause of the criminals, the rioters, the firestarters. That makes their skin color incidental, bordering on irrelevant.
But hey, Lefties, if you really want to go there, let’s go there. You’ll have to confront the fact that it’s the race-obsessed segment of the population that’s responsible for violent unrest and most crime — not the white “racists” you keep lying about.
And it sure as hell doesn’t happen in small towns. Like the song says, it’d be a bad idea to try. Unlike city folk, we simply won’t allow it.
(Especially in a small town like ours.)
Says the WaPo columnist:
“’Try That in a Small Town’ is a fantasy of violent retribution against outsiders — those who would bring the supposed lawlessness of the city to the small town. It even includes a line about how the government might try to confiscate the ‘gun that my granddad gave me.’”
“There is also a long history of songs in which rural people are presented as right and true and cities are the source of chaos that must be resisted. Merle Haggard’s 1969 ‘Okie From Muskogee,’ for example, became something of an anthem of Richard Nixon’s ‘silent majority.’ Haggard even played it at the White House. Hank Williams Jr.’s 1982 ‘A Country Boy Can Survive’ similarly tells of a friend from New York who was robbed and murdered, proclaiming, ‘You can’t starve us out and you can’t make us run/’Cause we’re them old boys raised on shotguns.’
“That’s the real lineage of ‘Try That in a Small Town.'”
Well, yeah. That’s accurate, actually, and I have precisely zero problem with it.
The columnist invokes the word “fantasy” several times in his characterization of true Americans. Honestly, now, is that what this is?
Fuck around and find out.
Got a gun that my granddad gave me
“Try That in a Small Town”
They say one day they’re gonna round up
Well, that shit might fly in the city — good luck
This was a day we’ve been hoping for, dreaming of, one we’ve awaited anxiously and needed desperately for comfort and sanity. Mid-afternoon temps hovered around 70°F, the heat index fully 40°F lower than it’s been lately.
We didn’t run the air conditioning at all today.
Yeah, it rained. We left the windows open anyway, as far as we could. The cool, fresh air was medicine.
Our backhoe work got done early, before the rain came. Afterward we all sat around outside the RV, drank coffee and talked a good while.
Now the homesite is ready for more progress — bringing in electric, of course, and also preparing the spot where our house will go. The timetable isn’t set just yet, but we’ve done our part.
For the record, it was a year ago today that we returned to Ozarkansas for good. Apparently, nothing here happens fast. At least now we’re livin’ on The Mountain.
Toward the end of the afternoon we drove into Flippin for curbside pickup. As long as we were headed there I figured I’d fill an empty gas can. By the time we left it was getting to be dinnertime, so we drove west to Yellville to try Breadeaux Pizza.
We found the place clean and bright, the staff friendly (natch) and the pizza well worth making our go-to local pie. While waiting for our food I wandered off through doorways, discovering several other dining rooms. A woman walked past me and told me that there was a bar at the end of the hall.
“It’s a well-kept secret,” she said with a smile. Deb and I decided to pay it a visit when we’d finished our meal.
It’s the Crooked Creek Pub, owned by New Mexico transplants, husband and wife. (They also own the adjoining pizza parlor.) Wild West décor. Beer-only. Warm and cheerful, adult crowd.
Deb ordered an Ozark IPA. I had a Norfork Black Oak Stout. And both of us knew that we’d found a great, great pub right close to Home. We hadn’t expected that.
You just never know.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB