There was a time in my life when I went down to The South a fair bit.
By this I mean primarily Arkansas, North and South Carolina with a bit of driving through Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia and West Virginia. Haven’t yet been to Louisiana, Alabama or Georgia.
As for Mississippi… well, there are people in Mississippi who don’t want to be in Mississippi! (Just kidding. Please don’t shoot me!)
(When you hear them say, “Ah hell no!”… you better run!)
I haven’t been to The South since the Passover/Easter weekend before 9/11.
There’s so much I love and miss about The South.
(1861 Navy Colt – the classic handgun of The South)
One of the most striking things you find down there is the entire gun culture. [1]
It’s not that everyone in The South has a gun. I would suspect that most don’t.
But… there is this general all-round feeling among most Southerners that is in some way supportive of the general idea of guns for personal protection.
There is a gleefulness… and also a kind of playfulness… about this mindset that I find hard to resist.
The over-riding sense is that this attitude of bravado is ‘half in jest – whole in earnest.’ Kind of like, “I’m kidding… but not really.”
I love it. I miss it.
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[1] Full disclosure: None of the friends I visited or stayed with in The South was a gun owner (as far as I know).
Similar to your trespassing sign:
“All trespassers found at night will be found in the morning.”
Posted around a private swimming hole.
Delightfully subtle.
One I saw a lot in Arkansas… “This property protected by Smith & Wesson!”
As my Southern Baptist father in law would say…’Some people just need killin’”
Ayuh.