I'm baaa-aack. Let's trot this son of a gun out for another drunken joyride which will likely spin out and crash into the guardrails of apathy in about two months. I'm just shooting you straight. You know it's gonna end in tears and stained undershorts, but maybe we'll have a laugh, you know?
So, yeah. Turns out, two kids keep you busy. Plus, I started a Girl Scout troop since last we chatted, and that has been a lot of work, but pretty rewarding. I also had one of my biannual where-the-hell-am-I-going-with-this-thing? crises. I still don't really know the answer, besides motherin' these little girls and generally being kick ass. I want to be an artist/designer/author/musician/songwriter/astronaut/archeologist/well-paid expert/farmer/beautician when I grow up, and I don't think that's too much to ask. Or maybe it is. I'll figure it out one day. So, let's just jump straight into something that might become a regular feature here called "A Feminist Look at Classic Country Music" or A.F.L.A.C.C.M. Huh...Ahflackem.....Okay, we're just gonna call this thing "Feminist Friday", kids.
Check out this ridiculous song by Red Sovine, singer and dramatic reciter of many classic truck driving songs, the most famous being the diesel-drenched tear jerker "Teddy Bear".
Now, this is pre-"Teddy Bear", about a decade before Red had really hit his stride and found his long haulin' niche. "I Didn't Jump The Fence" is a little ditty about cheatin' with the neighbor's wife. Only the neighbor's wife is apparently an apple tree with loose morals. Basically, she and her hoohah are pieces of fruit to be stolen and fought over between neighbors. It seems that when her husband's out of town, she dangles her ripe fruit over the back fence like a wanton hussy. She may also have an out-of-control 60's bush that needs to be trimmed, but I could be misinterpreting something. Red's attitude is all, "Hey, don't get mad at me, man. Your apple tree's a total slut. You should cut it down a notch if you don't want me groping your whore apples."
So what have we learned today? The 60s were a time of offensive sexual double standards and weird, sorta gross, fruit metaphors.