While (browsing) on facebook the other day (a few days ago or a few years ago), I came across (read) a thing (post) that said (read), “When you hear a southern drawl, immediately subtract 100 IQ points.” For crying out loud (In my opinion), this guy (person, male or female) was too big for his britches (conceited). I was madder than a wet hen (irate, furious).
Language in the south is concise and meaningful while expressing a series of emotional connotations — happiness, sorrow, pity and regret. It works. And when the last syllable in a word is accented and drawn out an extra millisecond, especially when dropping any useless final ‘g’ from a word, it is beautiful.
My son lives up yonder (somewhere, not here) in the north (North Carolina) and has lost some of the pleasure of listening to the sound of southern charm. Recently, while talking with him on the phone, I made a comment and he said, “Oh, the southern drawl! I almost forgot how good it sounds.” I do not believe that I have a southern drawl although I have been known to turn one on depending of the inflection of the sentences. Sarcasm is a bit more palatable when spoken with a little “drippy-ness” (twang) in a voice. But if there were a situation that required strong language, in the south, it would be prefaced with “Pardon my French but…”, or ended with “bless his/her heart”. Of course we know that cuss words (profanity) are not necessarily French words, in spite of our low IQs. Merde.
Our everyday conversations are filled with colloquialisms that are unique to our region, but the same can be said of other regions. Numerous examples are noted in literature, TV, movies and especially on the Internet. The sayings are passed down through the years, just as new words in any urban dictionary drift in and out of our lives. The trend today is to forego whole words with texting on a smart phone, replacing them with abbreviations and emogi’s (new word, anyone can make up one). The loss of good words and phrases in our language is traumatic.
Our Southern language is engrained in our lives; we’ve been “doin’ it since we were knee high to a grasshopper.” We cart our groceries around the store in a buggy and wear toboggans on our heads when it’s cold outside. When necessary, any useful tool can become a verb — so we “weedeat the yard” and “hose down the front porch,” but not on Sundays. Someone can be beaten with an ugly stick, which may or may not refer to their appearance.
So, you sit there like a bump on a log or go off half-cocked, drunk as Cooter Brown, three sheets in the wind, bitin’ off more than you can chew. But don’t get caught with your pants down or dead lice will fall off your head. It gives me the heebie-jeebies, nervous as a bastard at a family reunion, that we living in the south get the short end of the stick even when we don’t know if that number is our age or our IQ.
Speaking the language of the South with charm and grace is something you are born with; when others do so; it is derogatory and insulting. Jealousy can be a green-eyed bitch, bless her heart.
Crimsoncoco's Awesome Blog 