Real people

I am getting fed up with these eastern elites and decided to vent. Their condescending view of the rest of the country is just too hard to take sitting down. While they openily criticize others as being prejudiced and bigoted they themselves suffer from the same ailment without knowing it. The stereotypes they brand others with seems not to be in their consciousness. They talk about the hillbilly wearing a big belt buckle in his blue jeans, smoking Marlboro’s, standing on the running board of his gas guzzling pick up drinking Bud light. They see guys who shoot deer and ducks to break the boredom of their meaningless lives. They see good old boys coming out of the revival tent barefoot and singing, Praise the Lord. Sounds like they just need their guns and their God to be happy. But they do have lives that matter and lives that enjoy our free country unlike Mrs. Obama who said as she entered the White House that she was proud to be an American for the first time in her life. These are the people who struggle every day to put food on the table and hope and pray that their children have a better life. These are the people who fight our wars. How many Ivy leaguers are in the military yet these people constantly say how proud they are of our military but they would avoid it all cost. The best way to describe these people is to use the words of a John Denver song called Back Home Again. There's a storm across the valley, clouds are rollin' in The afternoon is heavy on your shoulders There's a truck out on the four lane, a mile or more away The whinin' of his wheels just makes it colder He's an hour away from ridin' on your prayers up in the sky And ten days on the road are barely gone There's a fire softly burning; supper's on the stove But it's the light in your eyes that makes him warm. Hey, it's good to be back home again Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend Yes, 'n, hey it's good to be back home again There's all the news to tell him, how did you spend your time? And what's the latest thing the neighbors say And your mother called last Friday, sunshine made her cry And you felt the baby move just yesterday And oh, the time that I can lay this tired old body down And feel your fingers feather soft on me The kisses that I live for, the love that lights my way The happiness that livin' with you brings me It's the sweetest thing I know of, just spending time with you It's the little things that make a house a home Like a fire softly burning and supper on the stove The light in your eyes that makes me warm There, now I feel better. These people don’t know what supper is!