despite having once lived in a small town my brother and I are not, nor have we ever been rednecks

there were no rednecks in idyllwild. it was not in the boonies proper, rather, it was in a georaphically isolated region near palm springs so that yuppies and boomers and fundies with a back to the land impulse could enjoy fake rusticity without great difficulty or the inconvenience of real isolation. The town consisted mainly of two contingent.: there were the hippies who were not quite commune material but hardly fit for society either; their leaeder was a man called richard geole who played the guitar execrably and had dropped so much acid that he really believed himself to be the second coming of chirst our lord and savior. then there were the fundamentalist xtians. their brand of hick piety was so extreme that they could not open their mouths in the presence of sane people without causing grave offense nor could the be exposed to normal society without becoming so shocked and offended themselves as to necessitate an immediate prayer service and circle jerk. It goes without saying that they hated richard goele for pretending to be jesus, who they happened to know personally and they felt the imposture was in the worst possible taste.
There had once benn real rednecks in idyllwild but they seemed to have all been scared off by the arrival of the acid casualty wirdos and the religion casualty weirdos. My parents had little to do with either camp, though my mother, being an idiot, occasionally spent time with the new age spiritualists. We mainly lived there because they needed a competent engineer like my father to run their water district and the whole lot didn't seem to have a single competent anything among them. Let us be thankful that they've chosen to sequester themselves in a remote locale where they cannot annoy the shit out of the rest of us. Wes and I were not so fortunate during our childhood, but by a stroke of goode luck we had nintendo and MTV around to teach us the truly important things in life and distract us from our disgusting social milieu. One redeeming virtue of the 12 year olf daughters of brain dead hippies was that they were completely ignorant of sex, but not at all shy about lifting up their skirts to show their nearly hairless pudendae to curious ten year old boys. of course, it was far less secually arousing han the africans issues of national geographic (this was before the internet) but I think one or two of them might have let wesley put it inside, or at least touch it.