Saturday morning was sunny and bugs screaming and buzzing, at least in my part of West Virginia, and it was nice and cool. Bugs is pretty much like folk. The boy bugs holler or buzz or I don’t know what all so the girl bugs will love them and they can get laid, and then the boy bugs run off and leave the girl bugs with the eggs. You’d think the girl bugs would learn, but they never do. If you have a choice, it’s better to be a boy bug.
Anyways, I was planning to go see Uncle Hant that makes skull break moonshine back in the woods so he could tell me how to make a living. Hant knows everything. A few years back, he sent the Poverty Office in Wheeling a letter that said he was a one-legged Injun princess named Sighing Cloud with black lung, and they started sending him money in trucks. Then they wrote him a letter saying did he have any children he didn’t know who was the daddy to, so they could send him more money. He told them he had thirteen and he didn’t have no idea where they came from but they all had Down’s Syndrome, whatever that is, and now he’s the richest man in McDowell County. So don’t nobody who says gummint is a bad thing know what he’s talking about.
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