That loud ‘thud‘ you heard was this guy falling … hard.
Grace can be a persnickety thing, you know?
You may reach a state of grace like Glen Campbell, who once joked about the “overnight success story” of his hit “Rhinestone Cowboy” by saying, “If that was an overnight success, it was the longest night of my life.” You work hard. You scrimp, save and set aside what you can for your dream. And then, it happens: There you are — king of the mountain.
That is until someone — or something, as is mostly the case — kicks your tail smooth off that thing. You know those nasty calamities Wile E. Coyote gets himself into once the ACME box explodes in his grill? Falls from grace are like that. It’s not the immediate bang that will kill you — it’s usually the looming cloud.
Which is what brings us to the patriarch of Duck Dynasty, Phil Robertson, as he hearkens back to a better time. The 1950s and 1960s. Wait, what?
By now, you have heard about Phil Robertson’s anti-gay rant, which got him suspended from A&E’s juggernaut reality show (and the reason it completely rebranded the network) “Duck Dynasty.” Just in case you were asleep at work: In a cutesy article by GQ (and can we talk about the pigheaded irony of featuring those guys in G-effin-Q?) called “What the Duck,” Phil kinda went all hillbilly on the gay population:
It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man’s anus. That’s just me. I’m just thinking: There’s more there! She’s got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I’m saying? But hey, sin: It’s not logical, my man. It’s just not logical.
Sure, there’s more, but that is the jist of what got him kicked off the “reality” show. And then, that’s when the fun began.
I suppose reporters began thinking, “If a man that looks like that, speaks like that, surely there has to be more of that where that came from.” And that reminds me — why are people so surprised about this given the propensity to believe stereotypes. You see this dude in the picture above walking around in Walmart, what’s the first thing you think? “Where’s his rebel flag, shotgun and double-wide in the parking lot.”
So, that guy says all this and America is surprised?! Uh, yeah.
Anywho, Phil opined about his days growing up before the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s — you know, those Waltons-esque wholesome days called “Jim Crow” for black folks — and recalled that pre-civil-rights days weren’t all that bad? Meh!
“I never, with my eyes, saw the mistreatment of any black person,” Robertson is quoted in GQ. “Not once. Where we lived was all farmers. The blacks worked for the farmers. I hoed cotton with them. I’m with the blacks, because we’re white trash. We’re going across the field…. They’re singing and happy. I never heard one of them, one black person, say, ‘I tell you what: These doggone white people’—not a word!… Pre-entitlement, pre-welfare, you say: Were they happy? They were godly; they were happy; no one was singing the blues.”
MEMO to the camouflaged, self-dubbed “white trash”: You ever seen a current of electricity race through your extension cord as you charge up a generator outside of your deer blind? No? Whelp, guess what Phil? Just because you haven’t seen the damn thing, don’t mean it never happened.
“Never saw with my eyes.” Kushite, please!
TV, radio, newspapers? Hell, the local KKK meeting that surely happened ’round the corner from deep yonder from wherever the hell you hunt all those ducks? Nothing? No N-Word this? No “we don’t need their kind” that? Just hummingbirds, swamp taters and the theme of “Little House on the Prairie” following you everywhere you ventured in the Bayou, huh, Phil?
The gay bash was the blast. This? Look up because that looming cloud ready to burst with rain, hail and lightning is all yours, Phil. Ironic it’s a black cloud too, don’t you think?