The redneck musician Redneck lifestyle tips by Don Burleson

 

In my quest for Redneck nirvana I've noticed that not many rednecks have musical talent.  My family is no exception, almost completely devoid of any musical talent.  The only musician in my family tree was my Great-Grandpa Jonathan Hardister.

 

Grandpa Jonathan had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Jonathan took a Yankee Minne ball at the Battle of Gettysburg that blew-off a large chunk of his ass. 

 

But Grandpa Jonathan's survived, and his war injury blessed him with a unique musical ability, the ability to fart in a perfect F-Sharp.  He was so precise that you could use him to tune a piano. But me, I can't fart and chew gum at the same time.

 

When I was in school, the band parties were legendary and the only way that I would be accepted into the band was to play something really easy.  I chose the cymbals, but I still had trouble.  Practicing cymbals at-home was problematic since a-capella cymbals could be very annoying.  I remember practicing for hours, counting the beats in silence for up to 10 minutes before I let go with a thunderous cymbal crash that would wake the dead.  

 

My parents made me stop practicing, but nobody could deny that that I had mastered this most difficult instrument.  The band teacher eventually figured out that I could not read music very well, but we worked it out, and he would signal me with his baton whenever he wanted a cymbal crash.