I am officially a redneck.

With the resounding success of "Duck Dynasty", it seems that the moniker of "redneck" has reached a new level of rspect. So please take me at my word when I say there ain't nobody more redneck than me. (Don't get me started on "I am." That's way too hoity toity for an honest redneck.)

You might think this declaration of redneck-ness means that I have four cars parked on my property. I have five. WIN. The fact that they all still run is a bit of a handicap, I admit, but give it time; something's bound to break down.

No, the reason why I am the numero uno redneck in my neck of the woods - bar none - is because I sit outside at night and run my little dog with my gun.

Yessir, I do.

You see, my little Cavalier won't go for a walk. I kid you not. Even the suggestion of a walk around the property causes him to droop. His daily level of exercise consists of moving from a prone position on the floor, to a prone position on the bed, or sofa, or chair. But bring out the cat toy laser pointer at night, when you can easily see it on the grass, and he loses his ever loving mind! He'd run himself to death if I let him. He even scratches at the back door and whines when it starts to get dark outside. Problem solved. He stays fit. I sit on the porch and drink.

However, the cat light I purchased for him to chase while yapping hysterically to entertain the
neighbors, broke almost immediately because it was cheap crap from China. Too lazy to go get another, I now sit outside on the back porch and use the laser pointer on my .38 handgun...and around and around and around he goes. Like a bullet. Sort of. HAHAHA!

Yes, I use my gun to run my dog.

I don't think you can get much more redneck than that, quite honestly.

At least not and still have all your teeth in your head and not be married to your cousin.

Stuck this in here because it is just too awesome!
The red neck racehorse!