I yearn to grill

It's a vibe I will now try to describe.

A Raccoon Southerner will have an opinion on vinegar or tomato base, and a Snapping Turtle would rather skip the BBQ and head straight for the chain burger than compromise.

A Snapping Turtle hates water parks cause "Why would you pay to stand in line in the heat when we could just go tubbing down the river and drink beer for free?" Which is sensible.

A Raccoon will then say something dumb like "Oh but it's 'fun' for the keyids."

Raccoons either do not know or actively provoke how homicidal we Snapping Turtles are... it gives them some preverse pleasure, I think.

Raccoons welcome carpet baggers like missionaries to a cause, Snapping Turtles would rather they die.

Raccoons speak internet and Snapping Turtle speaks anachronism.

Raccoons say things like, "Why can't we all just enjoy things?" when their favorite franchise is criticized, meanwhile no one hates the Snapping Turtles favorite hobby quite like the Snapping Turtle themselves.

Raccoons like the "Ole Smokey" Peach Blueberry Mango Shine because it comes in a cute mason jar, and Snapping Turtle won't drink it if taxes have ever been paid at any point in the process.

If Applebee's started serving Shrimp and Grits Polenta Appetizer, the Raccoon will applaud them and congratulate the South on making inroads into the mainstream, the Snapping Turtles will not try it.

The Snapping Turtles will keep up with SEC, their Raccoon wives will buy their kids SEC onsies the Turtles can not admit they despise for being overpriced and cringe.

Counter-intuitively, the Raccoons are the ones you will catch enforcing cohesion passive aggressively, they'll be the ones saying "bless your heart" the Turtles have just stopped talking to you before you can get them out of sorts, I tell you what they have liked four people besides Mamaw in their life and two of them were dogs.

The Snapping Turtles have at least one Southern State that doesn't count and they don't recognize, but will find common ground with the Midwest gate keepers.

The Raccoons claim to welcome everyone, but no one has a more detailed ledger of church offenses and gossip.

Raccoons love a crowd pleasing Aldean, or Luke Bryan, a Snapping Turtle hasn't liked any country since Johnny and Willie except for ONE song (usually Childers or the Steel Drivers) that makes them ball like a baby everytime.

Snappers will call you a fence post turtle, the Raccoons post the full meme where the farmer who says y'all precisely three to many times explains in great detail what a fence post Turtle is to the Yankee passing through in the narrative.

This annoys the Raccoon, because if you didn't know the story you weren't supposed to get it from Facebook.

*Smash cut to a talking head.*

"That's the commercial we would make if we were a shitty company, but since we're not, I'll just tell you that it's really good in real life."

May they make it "elevated," "keto friendly," and with "riced" cauliflower.

May a middle-aged TV chef win a Beard award for it in half the proper cook time.

He had left his father the lord's castle to demand a pact, magic or otherwise that would grant him the hand of the most beautiful seamstress in the land who loves to cook.

The witch rolled her eyes. "So unoriginal, and I suppose this woman with the body of a goddess that feeds you like a king will have to magically be pleased to give up your firstborn to me as well?"

She said, stroking the familiar on her shoulder as it let out a loud 'CAW!'

"Who said anything about feeding my lady? For there are many things besides vitals one can make in a cauldron such as this."

The knight said cockily leaning against her witches brew.

"A cauldron such as... wait..."

Said the witch as her eyebrows stitched together in consternation.

"But that is my cauldron!"

"But of course!" Said the knight waiving dismissively and smiling wryly, "As for our firstborn naturally, it shall be yours seing as you will be its mother."

"... wait... are you... is this a pick-up line?"

The witches jaw dropped.

"That's the clever mind I intend to love you for!" The knight said, clapping his hands over his breast and falling to one knee.

"This isn't happening."

Said the witch, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Can't I make some tavern trollop or far away half diluted noble fall for you instead?"

"My father was granted land with an old wizzard tower on it."

The knight coos in a sing-song voice.

"And our copper mines? Infested with reagents.

Bats rooster all over the place, fungus grows everywhere, the whole place flows, and no one knows why that is!

All that can be yours if you will, but take my hand???"

" ... I can't believe I'm considering this. My patron is laughing so hard I can barely hear myself think..."

"Don't think my lady! Your beauty is Devine..

truly, you are all that I could ever desire!"

Said the knight, clapping her hand in his!

"... I'm going to be sick."

She protested, but it was weak.

"Sick with joy! Never will a witch of your kind have been so cherished by a court or protected from those who would come at you with pitchforks! Verily I tell you from the moment I saw you that you are the apple of my..."

The knight prattled on.

"Shut up!... shut up.

Would you have me drink my own love potion?"

"Of course not! I'd rather us grow in a love that is true.

I'll grow on you."

"... like a wart."

She murmured, blushing.

"Aye. But witches love warts. That's why you lot love to faff about with toadstools."

*The crowd nods slowly along.*

"You cannot put Kansas and Lynard Skynard in the same category as Nirvana and Alice in Chains, anymore than you could compare ACDC and Guns in Roses to Metallica and Black Sabath, which is still not comparable to Queen and Bon Jovi."

*Applause builds as I warm to my theme.*

"Which is to say nothing of the women, Blondie, Heart, Joan and the Blackhearts... and the Renaissance! Linkin Park, Breaking Benjamin! Would you have me compare them to Creedence Clearwater or Aerosmith? Or Aerosmith and CCR to Elton and Clapton, no!..."

*rapturous ovation*

"... which is to say for me personally, Tool was the best rock band of all..."

*Mic reverb effect, Pin drop, tentative boos, a man yells out "Pretentious dickhead!"*

"HEY! That is uncalled for, you know what? Fuck you! Fred Durst was a visionary, and Seether's 'Fake it' is an anthem of the youth! Every Six Seconds bangs from track to track, and POD was fine, actually."

*I am trampled to death by the mob in their ignorance, my last words,*

"Forgive them Chad Kroger, they know not what they do."

We already changed languages for Barcelona, we're not doing it again for UC Berkley.

Los Chicanos y Buricas are fighting over who gets to be the white people's favorite? I think. I don't know. We're just their hick cousins unless we make something profitable, and then they scramble over themselves to claim it's about Chicano pride.

Los Cubanos seem cool. They don't complain much except about pisss poor coffee and rent in Miami.

The Venezuelans get a little slack from everyone cause no one likes Maduro.

Los Chipapas are on thin fucking ice güey, learn to season your fucking food then we'll talk about the cultural head.

Most of us want an ethnic divorce, but we can't cause the US census is a travesty.