Sunday, August 16, 2009
I seem to be settling in well in Florida. I have found that adopting local dress and local customs seems to be working better than expected, and they are now inviting me to their secretive tribal gatherings.
Apparently the tradition here is to consume gallons of cheap beer-flavoured water and shove vast quantities of greasy cheesy dead animals into your increasingly distended stomach. I did that for a while, until the locals accepted me, and then partook in the ritual of sliding along a soapy inflatable slidy thing until I was thoroughly soaked.
The reason for this was at first unclear, until I realised that the purpose is to cause the females' shirts to become transparent (see right), upon which one utters the cry "yee-haw!" and makes crude sexual advances, involving lewd descriptions of what acts one could perform in the back of a pickup truck.
This, so I am told, is the irresistible mating dance of the Red-Necked male, a species common throughout this part of the United States. It's clearly a highly successful reproductive strategy, as the species seems remarkably fertile, and most females over the age of 17 seem to have several infants in tow at all times.
Dress for the females seems to involve small pieces of string around the waist and passed conspicuously between the buttocks, as modelled in the picture to the left by Annie-Mae, a native lady with whom I have struck up an acquaintance, and who is acting as my guide to the region. The facial features are accentuated by the use of a gum-like substance, which is chewed compulsively to demonstrate that the female has strong jaws. (See picture below.)
As you can see, it can also be blown into bubbles to prove that she has strong lungs, and is therefore capable of screaming loud abuse at any stranger who dares to look at her exposed cleavage without being invited.
This, of course, is a cunning strategy on the part of the female, since the correct response to the challenge "Are y'all staring at mah titties?" is, of course, "Wayull, I shore am, you sweet thang." This identifies the male as one who is prepared to risk a possible fatal confrontation with another male (who may or may not exist, and who may or may not have a gun) merely for the possibility of contributing to the gene pool.
This ritualised call may then lead to a further exchange of endearments, followed by mating in the aforesaid pick-up truck, and then more consumption of beer-like liquid and bragging to other Red Necks.
This has so far proved to be a most interesting assignment, and I shall continue to report on the strange ways of these fascinating people. I am happy to report that despite the recent loss of their beloved leader, Dubbya, the Red Necked Americans do not appear to be in any way endangered, and appear to be thriving.
We will doubtless hear more of them.