The Beverly, fuck, fucking, fucked...Hillbillies

As I take a brief pause from working on my story, and go to turn on the outdoor and indoor lights after realizing the sun is saying it's last goodbyes to a gorgeous, bright and sunny Cleveland day....

What's that I hear? Oh dear, it's Jethro Clampett and his two loud and obnoxious drunken-ass cousins that live next door. They've been at it since noon today.

The weather was hot this holiday weekend and the Clampett's will use any excuse I suppose to drink cheap beer from a can and smoke cigarettes and weed (when they can get it) outside on their 10x10 square foot rectangular, cracked and splintered cement patio. Today was no exception, afterall it's Labor Day. For them that means, "Let's drink ourselves into complete oblivion."

Yeah. I know. Those that live in glass houses....

I'm shaking my head in disbelief, because I really do live next door to a version of the Beverly Hillbillies. I grew up in San Diego and I used to watch that television show as a kid. My growing up on a beach mind could never wrap itself around a place where people did things like hunt for coon with a 12 guage shotgun and find a myriad of reasons to use the word fuck in a sentence.

Well, whaddaya' know? They live right next door. My neighbors aren't proud of their use of the word fuck either. Nope. They'll fuck, get fucked and enjoy a good fucking whenever necessary. No discretion required for the word fuck in their conversations. Occassionally, I think I can hear someone breaking out into a fucking soliloquy over there, which is quite impressive. They do a nice job at fucking themselves when transitioning from one f-bomb topic to the next too. All their friends and kin-folk that honk instead of parking the car and walking up to the door and giving it a nice rap, tap, tap, are also proficient in the fuck lingo language also.

I'm truly amazed and obviously somewhat fascinated with language my neighbors possess. I think it could be considered a talent. Maybe I should write to the World Record Almanac folks and give them my neighbors address. Who knows, maybe they'll be recognized in setting a new record and be rewarded handsomely: Better beer money, perhaps, or finer weed.

Well, I'm headed back to my story now. Wish me uh, fucking luck. :-)

Ciao

Neve