If heaven wasn't so far away....it would kind of defeat the purpose.

Here I am, talking about country music.  Again.  Unfortunately.

When you actually listen to the lyrics, "If Heaven Wasn't So Far Away" by Justin Moore is one of the most ridiculous songs ever.  I've been critiquing the hell out of this song in my head for years.  Now I need to actually write out my feelings of rage.

Watch the video.  Usually I have ridiculous celebrity crushes on country music boys, but Justin Moore really just looks like a douchefag.

Every day I drive to work across Flint River Bridge,
A hundred yards from the spot where me and Grandpa fished.
There's a piece of his old fruit stand on the side of Sawmill Road,
He'd be there peelin' peaches if it was twenty years ago.

This is nonsense.  What kind of fruit stand was this?  How is there seriously still a piece of it around if it was last functioning TWENTY FUCKING YEARS AGO?  I understand that this is some hick town, but is there no roadside cleanup whatsoever?

And what I wouldn't give
To ride around in that old truck with him

He was probably a drunk racist.  Be careful.

If heaven wasn't so far away,
I'd pack up the kids and go for the day
Introduce 'em to their Grandpa,
Watch 'em laugh at the way he talks.

That'll be good for the kids.  Gramps is dead, so you go laugh at his ghostly, funny-talkin' soul and then come back to real life?  They won't need years of costly therapy or anything.

I'd find my long lost cousin John,
The one we left back in Vietnam

Fair enough, support our veterans.  No laughing here.

Show him a picture of his daughter now,
She's a doctor and he'd be proud

John's in heaven looking down on all of us...don't lie to him.  He knows his daughter is a stripper, and that she changed her name from Brandi to Candii.  With two i's.

Then tell him we'd be back in a couple of days,
In the rear view mirror we'd all watch 'em wave.
Yeah, and losing them wouldn't be so hard to take,
If heaven wasn't so far away.

Look, they earned their right to be in heaven.  By, you know, dying and shit.  They're not going to cheerfully wave you goodbye.  They're flipping you the bird in the rear view because you're that jackass who decided to chillax in heaven without paying your dues.

I'd hug all three of those girls we lost from the class of '99

My friend Kenny pointed out this discontinuity to me a while back.  So you left someone "back in Vietnam" and you're also in the class of '99?  That makes no effin' sense.  Were you fightin' the good fight in 'Nam before you were born? Impressive, dude. Today's sperm and egg cells could totally learn a thing or two about combat from you.

And I'd find my bird dog Bo and take him huntin' one more time.

Really? Ghost dogs are shitty hunting companions. Those heaven-dogs just lay around with their damn halos and wings while ignoring the angel-deer.  Take my word on this one.

I'd ask Hank why he took those pills back in '53

Isn't it in the book of etiquette to not ask about things like overdoses?  I doubt he wants to talk about it.

And Janis to sing the second verse of "Me and Bobby McGee"

She's so over that song.

Sit on a cloud and visit for a while.
It'd do me good just to see them smile.

You can't actually sit on clouds, Mr. Moore.

Then it repeats and you have to hear about John and Grandpa again.
 
See what I mean?  These country songs make little to no sense.  Why do I listen to this stuff?  I guess simply because it's ridiculous.


XOXO,
Country Caroline.

Why West Virginia Fails

Country music. Most people I know say things along the lines of, "I like all types of music....except country." I used to be one of those stylish people, but I guess I've taken a turn for the redneck (read: worse).

The map isn't even cool. (Ok, I don't know what state has a "cool" map, but whatever.)

I blame West Virginia, simply because it's an easy target. I mean, people don't often rush to WV's defense, do they? Everyone's all, "har har har, inbreeding!!" when that state turns up in conversation.

Anyway, when you're driving home from Cleveland (GO BROWNS) and you stupidly didn't bring CDs or an mp3 player for your trip, you get stuck with a total of 1.5 radio stations to choose from in West Virginia. The ".5" represents an assortment of "easy listening" stations that don't have very good reception. So you're forced to listen to the static-free country channel. To be honest, it was entertaining. We discovered the musical gem "The Black Number 3" and other hilarious songs. (Click that link. You won't be let down.)

The problem is, after safely returning to territory with more music options, we actively sought out country stations. Now, over half a year later, the radio station hasn't been changed on Mike's stereo even once.

I play country songs on jukeboxes at bars where I once cared about upholding my reputation of being awesome. That's out the window now, I guess. Even my ipod has been infiltrated with Billy Currington and Gretchen Wilson songs. My music-savvy friends give me dirty looks these days. I used to be so trendy, but I guess now the best I can hope for is redneck chic. I just googled "redneck chic," hoping that was at least a real thing. It's not, apparently. This was the first result after doing an image search:

That isn't me, y'all.
Photocred, http://chowderheadbazoo.typepad.com

West Virginia, it's all your fault!

Hearts,
Caroline

PS: I hope to see all of you at the Toby Keith concert next month! XOXO.