The redneck musician
Redneck lifestyle tips by Don Burleson
In my quest for Redneck nirvana
I've noticed that not many rednecks have musical talent.
My family is no exception, almost completely devoid of any
musical talent. The only musician in my family tree was my
Great-Grandpa Jonathan Hardister.
Grandpa Jonathan had a knack for
being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Jonathan took a
Yankee Minne ball at the Battle of Gettysburg that blew-off a
large chunk of his ass.
But Grandpa Jonathan's survived,
and his war injury blessed him with a unique musical ability,
the ability to fart in a perfect F-Sharp. He was so
precise that you could use him to tune a piano. But me, I can't
fart and chew gum at the same time.
When I was in school, the band
parties were legendary and the only way that I would be accepted
into the band was to play something really easy. I chose
the cymbals, but I still had trouble. Practicing cymbals
at-home was problematic since a-capella cymbals could be very
annoying. I remember practicing for hours, counting the
beats in silence for up to 10 minutes before I let go with a
thunderous cymbal crash that would wake the dead.
My parents made me stop
practicing, but nobody could deny that that I had mastered this
most difficult instrument. The band teacher eventually
figured out that I could not read music very well, but we worked
it out, and he would signal me with his baton whenever he wanted
a cymbal crash.