We Rode In Trucks

Down where I born it was heaven on earth.
The Flint River washes that red Georgia dirt.
The sun sets slow and the stars shine bright.
We raised cotton, corn, a little cane, and kids.
You either lived on a farm or wish you did.
Jesus always walked close by our side.
Where I grew up, we rode in trucks.

And so on and so forth. The song, and accompanying video, testify to the awesomeness of growing up poor, rural and white, while driving around in enormous pickup trucks they have no practical reason for. "So Mr. 16 Year Old High School Junior, why exactly do you drive such a gargantuan vehicle? To drive the two miles to school and back? And drink beer out the back of on Friday nights? And to needlessly drive up the price of gas for the rest of us? Oh, OK, just wondering." Perhaps the chorus should instead say "Where I grew up/we helped fuck up the economy"

Also, why the heck does Luke Bryan sound so super serious, even mournful, as reminisces about his past of getting 3 miles to the gallon (city)? Because good news Mr. Bryan, you can still ride in trucks today! Even in the likely event you've lost your license to a DUI, you can still ride in trucks. Unless maybe now you live somewhere that requires you to take the bus everywhere, in which case, ha!

Still, I suppose his fondness for the now apparently unattainble act of riding in a truck is not surprising, given some of the other tracks from his album, including We Ate Cereal and Remember When (You Could Watch Television).

Chicken Fried

If you've been near a radio playing country music in the last hour, you've probably heard this four times. One of those songs that might be tolerable if you only heard it once a month. But thanks to sheer, overwhelming repetition, I have come to not only hate it more than any other song, but the final part has actually caused me to hate America.

I thank God for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring.
Salute the ones who died
The ones that give their lives so we don`t have to sacrifice
All the things we love
Like our chicken fried

I've always been curious: What threat does Zac Brown perceive to this country that might cause him to sacrifice his chicken fried? Takeover by ultra radical Muslim extremists who will ban not just pork but poultry? If that's the price I have to pay to never hear this song again, so be it.

Oh well, maybe Zac Brown will get sent to prison for enjoying 'the touch of a precious child' a little too much, and the same thing will be accomplished.

Small Town Southern Man

There have been like, a million country songs about the honest, hardworking, noble farmer's son, getting married, having kids, working hard, being noble, not getting involved with any of that fancy stuff they do on the coasts like having an opinion on politics or getting gay married, then dying. But never before has anyone made an unexciting life sound so banal as Alan Jackson.

Also, why is everyone in country songs today still the son of a farmer? By my reckoning there's like, 5 non-corporate farms left in the US. Come on guys, you can't all grow up on them.