My completely unbiased thoughts on Country Music.

There are three categories of what many drooling Americans know and love as Country Music: those that are intentionally sad, those that are intentionally funny, and those that are supposed to be sad but are so pathetic that they're funny. I prefer the latter, especially if it involves a grown man's grief over losing someone as near and dear as his faithful pick-up truck. Or the ones about the dangers of drinking with guns in the house, those are always hysterical, too. Whether it leads to a tragically violent domestic dispute or a tear-in-your-beer hari kari session, everyone wins. Well, at least everyone listening. Sayonara, sucker!

Then there's this one intentionally funny little number about fishing. The chorus says something to the effect of "My wife gave me an ultimatum (I guarantee you that this is not verbatim) to choose between her or fishing, and I'm sure going to miss my wife." Sure, it's tongue-in-cheek humor that applies mostly to people with family trees that more accurately resemble ladders, but it's light-hearted and sends a positive message: We'd all be OK alone as long as we have a hobby we love. For me, obviously, that hobby is...plumbing.

Now get ready to bow your head in shame at this statistic: Country is the most popular genre of music in the United States. What Bubba and Cletus won't tell you on their painfully commercial-free morning show, however, is that cities with more Country radio stations also have higher suicide rates. No, I'm not making this up. Do your own research if you don't believe me. You'll also learn that most losers off themselves in July, not December like most people think. Come on, Christmas isn't that depressing, not even when Grandma sends you a five-spot in a lousy card and tries to play it off like her Alzheimer's has caused her to forget that any inflation whatsoever has occurred since the second World War. Not being able to afford air-conditioning in a sweltering heatwave is a far more valid reason to cock your lever-action 30-30 and blow your brains through the patched tin roof of your double-wide. And to think that all these years you've been riding around with that rifle hanging in the rear window of your truck for nothing.

Finally, can we talk about the use of the fiddle a little? I'd like to put an end to this mockery of an artform entirely. It's the only instrument more annoying than the bagpipes; at least those skirt-wearing Scotsmen set some kind of worthy and somber tone with their plaid dust bags. "But Mike, the violin is a lovely instrument that's been used to expressed some of the deepest human emotions by some of the world's greatest composers." Yeah, that's all fine and dandy when that curvaceous hunk of wood is in the hands of some Eurotrash clown or a small-wanged Oriental, but as soon as a redneck picks one up it becomes a darn-tootin' fiddle! That's because our illustrious rural demographic had to go and "improve upon" a style that's been established and working just fine for centuries. Sounds like someone's had a little too much sweet tea again. "But Mike, adding some fiddle to an already obnoxious pop hit in an attempt to make it a palatable crossover cover song is a marvelous idea..."

BANG!

That was my Mossberg pump-action 12-gauge doing what you're 30-30 should've done a long time ago, partner.