Armpit Serenade, No Thank You: I'll Just Wait for the National Geographic DVD
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| Photo: SummerRedneckGames.com |
This weekend marks the 14th annual Summer Redneck Games, a tradition that began when them big city types were trying to show the world how sophisticated the South is during the Atlanta-hosted 1996 Olympics. Real folk knew that was just puttin' on airs, so a middle Georgia country radio station organized its own Olympic games. Something more representative of the region. Contests include:
Mud Pit Belly Flop
Watermelon Seed Spitting
Armpit Serenade
Bobbin' for Pigs Feet
Toilet Seat Horseshoes
And more...
I have actually been to the Summer Redneck Games. Flew across the country to attend. Told people I was going. Each time I said so, I watched people's brows clench together in a state of confusion while they nodded slowly.
"It's a joke," I'd explain.
Fine with me if they didn't get it. The G.R.I.T.S. (girls raised in the south) I was going with did. We'd rented a lake house for the weekend near the event, and thought it would be a hoot to check it out. We were divided like north and south on whether or not to actually attend the games, but I'd already bought my platform camouflage shoes with matching shorts and beer coozie — I was supporting the pro-redneck agenda.
This was a decision I could not make Rufus J. So-and-So understand.
"Where I come from, rednecks aren't a tourist attraction," he said.
"Sweetie, it's all in good fun — How many times do I have to explain that it's satire?" I asked.
"Mmm-hmm. I know you think so. What about the people there who don't get the joke?"
Ridiculous, I thought. The whole thing's for charity, for crying out loud. We would probably run into all sorts of philanthropists from the local Junior League.
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It took approximately :30-seconds inside the festival gates to realize the truth: This was no joke. The Confederate Flag waving crowd represented the worst of all southern stereotypes, and were damned proud of it. We stood near the mud pit with forced smiles, too polite to tell the others we were ready to go. There was nothing to laugh at. It was too real to be funny. I asked God to deliver us from deliverance. Then for forgiveness for being such a bitchy snob.
Finally, one of us saw something we expected to see more of — Alexa saw a familiar face. Evidence that we were not alone in thinking this was intended to be campy fun for all.
"Who are you with?" she asked her friend, wondering if there were others in the crowd she might know.
"The camera crew," he answered. "We're filming a documentary for National Geographic."
"Ah."
There was an awkward silence as we let the weight of that sink in. National Geographic. The same organization that photographs African bushmen and lost Amazonian tribes.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Oh... (dramatic pause)... Just hanging out."
So I don't know what you're doing this weekend, but I'll be embracing my inner redneck from home. Head down to Dublin if you must. I'll just wait for Nat Geo to put the documentary on DVD.
Posted by TheWordWire at 7/8/2009 6:58 AM 
Categories: Slice of Life, Southern Comfort
Tags: National Geographic summer redneck games armpit serenade mut pit belly flop Dublin GA
Categories: Slice of Life, Southern Comfort
Tags: National Geographic summer redneck games armpit serenade mut pit belly flop Dublin GA
In this day and age of mockumentaries- this legitimate National Geographic production could easily be confused. I am curious about the commentary that will go with the footage they shot. I personally came away from the Redneck Games with a greater understanding of a few of things. First, I learned that there is a BIG difference between country folks and rednecks and now I know how to identify which is which. Second, I learned that lake houses situated on lakes covered in an alien-like pond scum are not the best vacation rental properties. Finally, I learned that it doesn't matter where are(even if it's being hugged by a sweaty drunkard with mossy teeth) if you're with good friends you will leave feeling like it was time well spent.
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