You don't need the bullet when you got the ballot

Ah...what can I say about this new morning in America that hasn't been said already? It's been a long eight years and I'm glad to see this chapter finally come to a close.

I'm not holding my breath that President Obama (God, I do love how that sounds!) will fix everything. Honestly, was I the only one just a little creeped out by the crowd in Grant Park droning "Yes we can" in that monotonous tone? Reminded me of Catholic mass - or perhaps I'm thinking of a scene from Beneath the Planet of the Apes.

But here in rural Alabama, I am a lone liberal sheep surrounded by wolves. The vote pretty much followed racial lines here in my county - 70% McCain, 30% Obama (with a few scattered votes for third parties). After comparing the election returns to the county demographics, I've come to the conclusion that all the white people in the county who voted for Obama would probably fit in my house.

And the white people who voted for McCain are scared. There are seriously people here who think that the America they love is about to disintegrate into socialist dust. Obama will take their money and give it to liberal, godless, abortion-having, revolutionary, evolutionary terrorist homosexuals and they won't be able to stop him because he's going to take away their guns too.

They're scared because they think Obama is a Muslim. They're scared because they think Obama's former pastor is unAmerican. I'm scared because they can't see the contradiction here.

But what they are really afraid of is a black man wielding power over them.

They don't even use his name. The polite ones call him "the black guy." Of the (admittedly few) locals I've talked politics with, my neighbor the former Klansman is about the only one who hasn't said anything rude about Obama. In fact, he didn't even grimace when I told him who I was going to vote for.

When I first moved here almost two years ago, I was shocked by the old-school racism that was so prevelant in these parts. Not to say racism doesn't exist in other states where I've lived (Michigan, California, Alaska), but Yankees at least have the shame to pretend they're not racist. The overt nature of southern racism is unsettling to my liberal soul. And I have a feeling I ain't seen nothin' yet.


The other important issue here in my little corner of Dixie was whether or not to allow legal alcohol sales in the county. Of course, this referendum failed but at least the vote was fairly down the middle with legal alcohol sales losing by only a few hundred votes. The gap narrows a little more each time it shows up on the ballot.

What kind of backward backwoods Baptist nightmare have I found myself in?


But life goes on at Spenardo del Sur. The animals don't care who's president or how far away the nearest beer is. So let's just skip ahead to picture time.

A yet-to-be-named kitty munches on a trout head.



John Gatto and Bandit tussle over a trout carcass.



Even the chickens like trout.



Yet-to-be-named kitty caught a rabbit.



Murray the chicken hangs out on the poop deck while Bandit naps.



I named her Murray because her crooked clipped beak gives her mug a look that reminds me of a young Caddyshack-era Bill Murray. (And besides, whoever heard of a hen named Bill?)



Big scary bug!



View from my backyard of the neighboring cow pasture.



No two sunsets are quite the same. Sometimes orange...



Sometimes pink...




Sometimes (what pass for) mountains throw shadows across the sky.