Whoah there Buckaroo! What in the JuneBug jumping, bull humping, Lynyrd Skynyrd, are ya doing their partner? This is not a Yeehaww moment partner. What in Tarnation are ya doing? Thomas Jefferson is about to come out of the grave and slap yeh, I’m gonna have to meet you at high noon to solve this out partner, yeh Loyalist scum. I bet your ancestors Fucked King George the III. You have not only humiliated yourself now, but your daughter, son, wife, parents, and entire family tree. Your Pa is up in heaven shaking his head, and your mama is bawling. Your Papa is disowning you as we speak, and your grandma is weeping. I hope your grandchildren don’t keep your last name partner, I hope when you get to hell you get tortured by Satan himself. You’re mentally slower than cream rising on buttermilk. If you don’t stop, I’ll tear your arm off and beat you to death with the bloody stump. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise I will fight you. I’ll make yer liver quiver and yer bladder splatter. It sounds like I’m pitching a hissy fit. No I’m having a dying duck fit. You’re lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. You’re so stuck up, she’d drown in a rainstorm. Brother, what are the wearing? Lawd, people will be able to see to Christmas! You’re sex life Is so dry the trees are bribing the dogs. You couldn’t find his ass with both hands in his back pockets. The day you die I’ll be Grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater. You get my goose. You Yankees are like hemorrhoids: Pain in the butt when they come down and always a relief when they go back up. What you just said That would make a bishop mad enough to kick in stained glass windows, and cuss. You’re a trapdoor on a canoe. Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’! You’re lyin’ like a no-legged dog! If you had an idea, it would die of loneliness. Brother, you’re a disgrace to America, and it’s Yankees like you that make it apparent the south needs to rise again.