I’ve spent another two weeks with it and am still under it’s spell. Just about all my relatives live in sleepy little towns like thisin south Arkansas and east Texas and so I can personally attest to the factualness of the lyric. I got one cousin you just would not believe and my Dad’s church had to run one preacher out of town. This one’s a truth-teller. It’s so danged boring in those places; no culture, no Starbucks, only place to shop is Wal-Mart, the only thing to do is go to church services three times a week, hunt, fish and create the kinds of personal sins and dramas this song talks about. Faulkner could have constructed a fine novel around this series of vignettes. But I doubt he could’ve come up with a good hook like J T has.
