Camouflage

Camouflage (or “Camo” for short) is one of many things rednecks and rappers have in common (one other commonality is handguns; I dare not list any others now that R3 is interested in fuckin’ “readership”). Its purpose is to “camouflage” someone or something from someone or something else. Its secondary purpose is to look totally badass and tuff-e-nuff. Usually one wears camouflage beginning in the fall—with the open of deer season—and quits wearing it in May—at the close of tom season. But some Americans (let’s call them oh say I don’t know Mississippians) view Camo as a year-round garb; some even go above and beyond the call of duty. And while I can’t stand rednecks (or the fact that ‘redneck’ is an acceptable term according to Microsoft Word, while ‘Camo’ and ‘camo’ are not); and while this really makes me insane; and while I don’t, and have never, and cannot anticipate ever wanting to hunt, I will admit to having some bizarre affection for seeing men and women and boys and girls don this material in early autumn. I’ve come to connect it with the time of year that leaves me nostalgic and sentimental--a little too drunk, a little too happy. So help me god, when I saw Miller’s camouflage tallboys this past October, I damn-near cried; I knew something good and sweet and short was oncoming.
Then some fatshit wearing these in July desecrated my temple.

(I’m more than ready to get my ass kicked for this post. You know us Norsemen: sentimental to the bone.)

(Image courtesy 'king Andrew, ca. Oct. 2008)
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