Today I’m doing something different since it’s a holiday.

Due to the Holiday and the fact that I am getting ready to move, I’m going to share a short blog entry I created in 2004 (for MySpace) about my Redneck brother.

Note: At the time I wrote this blog entry, I referred to him as my “Love-able” Redneck Brother…

but the times they have a-changed.

Now he’s my back-stabbing Redneck brother, who I hope I never see again as long as I live.

Time has a way of doing that, yet even in 2004, perhaps I should have noticed the signs.



So my redneck brother and I suffered though another Thanksgiving Dinner together, along with his redneck friends and his 12 year old daughter.

During this period in time, that meant you avoided arguments, by getting as drunk as possible, and passing out before someone blew a gasket over ancient history…

oh! And there’s food there too, if you can stay awake long enough to actually eat it.

The “turkey” was put in the oven at apprx 3:00 in the afternoon, and my brother, no doubt accessing his criminal history, insisted on using some kind of  WORLD FAMOUS….


TURKEY SECRETS, and no one was going to stop him or it could get ugly.

Apparently “Willy” cooks the turkey upside down, which explains why the idea captured my (currently warrant-free) brother’s fancy.

At some magic moment in the process, you are to turn the turkey over and only then can you cook the top part.

This is how my brother multitasks.

He cooks, knocks back brewskies, while chattering away:

“Yeah…I was talkin to Norma’s mother and she was telling me how Willy Nelson cooks HIS turkey…so that’s what I’m doing!”

Then he announces he’s improvising on the Willy Nelson recipe and he’s adding CAJUN spices!

I remember hitting the liquor and weed from that point on and hoarding bottles of water.

By the time the food came around, all I wanted to do was take my “pill,” so the SPORTS would go away.

Once in my own bed, I could still hear the conversation downstairs, and dreamed that I was in an institution of some kind. An old hospital, where patients were screaming and the nurses were driving around in space shuttles.

I had a floating wheelchair that sat next to me, so I got inside and rode it around.  I was zooming down the halls at record speeds!

I kept thinking:

“I should get out of this wheelchar…people are going to think there is something wrong with my legs.”

But everyone was riding one.

A group of people passed me in a Jetsons style-golf-cart-thing and they waved.

Another guy was riding a  space-age “scooter” that was flying around at all different angles.

At some point I got out of the wheechair and looked around. It was then I realized that I was in a crowded room, and I was SHIRTLESS so I ran…and then I woke up.

All in all it was it was a good Thanksgiving because no one got their face pounded on…

(this time.)

Although my redneck brother didn’t do anything OUTSTANDINGLY redneck that year (except give me nightmares from the “Wille Nelson” turkey with the spontaneous cajun-spice-twist…)

the next day…still hung over from drugs and alcohol…he was inspired to do ELECTRICAL work on the house!

I refused to “flip switches” when he asked me to.

Speaking of Willy Nelson though…I was telling someone about the turkey and the nightmare, and she told me a hilarious Willy Nelson story.

Apparently…Willy Nelson used to be a HUGE drunk. His first wife got sick and tired of it, and one night when he passed out on the bed, she sewed him in, (as in sewed him into the sheet with needle and thread.)

Then beat him black and blue with a baseball bat!

He probably deserved it.

Hope everyone has a great President’s Day!





About LindaP

Broadcast veteran. Over 20 years: CNN, MSNBC, LIFETIME, ESPN, NBC, ABC, CBS as Producer, Art Director, Animation Specialist and Graphic Designer. Over 16 years as a freelance writer: Jezebel Magazine, Atlanta Magazine, Creative Loafing, Southhampton Press. Currently writing a book about a bizarre series of unsolved murders, that began in 1931 and ended in 1970. I have linked all of the crimes to one forgotten suspect.
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