If You Need a Glock but Not a Shirt, You Might Be From Hickman County.

I pulled up to the Dunkin Donuts by the interstate this morning to get coffee, but of course it was so packed I couldn’t turn in. So I went down and turned around in McDonald’s, and right off someone catches my eye. The shiny pickup truck flying, proudly,  off the back of it — not the stars and stripes on the weekend that we celebrate our independence, but the flag of those that went to war against the United States — the Confederate flag. One might as well fly an ISIS flag this 4th of July weekend because it’s the same thing. Only the terrorism is domestic instead of foreign — how many times do I have to say this?

Of course he had Hickman County tags because they always do.

But it gets better.

He stepped out of the truck not wearing a shirt.

Now, this was a new truck and the windows were up, so obviously there were no problems with his air conditioning, he and his shirtless friend just seem to be the type that believe they’re doing the world a favor by letting us see their pale, white fat beer belly.

They are so not.

Even worse, this was a young guy who should know better — you need a shirt to enter a restaurant, which he soon figured out and they went back to put it on.

And this is where it really gets even more fun…

On his hip, holstered, was a huge ass weapon. He looked like a cop if a cop was half-naked and packing to get a sausage and biscuit on a Sunday morning.
I kept thinking how this guy was probably an enthusiastic Trump voter.

And also, how he likely wanted to give me, that Godless liberal Democrat, a lecture about how much he “trusts” in God.

Yet, look at the fear in his world.

What kind of existence is that — where you live in a place that’s so safe you don’t even need a shirt on Sunday morning, but you need a fucking Glock? 

Is this real life?

Do these people reeeeally, truly continuously exist?

He saw me staring as I pulled in beside him to turn around while he was standing in the parking lot putting his shirt on, and I
had not had coffee yet, so I didn’t have the stamina to get into the “what year did the Civil War end” — because they never know — conversation, so I just told him he was a fucking redneck after he yelled “What?!” at me for starring. But he seemed bright enough to realize that he didn’t want to respond, and instead, just looked at his friend like, “Did she really say that?”

And I drove off to get my coffee and go to Burns to make fun of idiots like that with my 90-year-old grandmother who’s losing her mind, but still has enough sense to realize that Donald Trump is an ignorant-ass dipshit and gun nuts are not only irrational, but dangerously crazy.

And I couldn’t help but think… if  you need a weapon but not a shirt just to get some fast food hash browns on a Sunday a.m. — you might be from Hickman County.



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