Undergraduate / The "Redneck" Culture - being a southern boy myself. [4]

Tell me what you think of this one, the assignment was write a definition essay, third person using the sub topic redneck culture. Suggestions on grammar and punct would be appreciated!

Redneck Culture

The word "redneck" can mean many things, such as a hick from the country or a quick tendency to resort to violence -- or it could simply mean your childhood was influenced by a farming community away from any major city. One also might consider rednecks beer drinking trailer trash, however, most could distinguish the difference between country and trailer trash. Redneck culture is often looked down upon, and most would venture to term it a derogatory filth that resides in the south where those hillbillies with no shoes live, they stay in old run down shacks cut into steep mountains full of baltic black coal. Rednecks are generally stereotyped due to the impressions made by their accents, slang, and communication styles, but, left on their own, they seem to perform quite well in everyday life without proper table manners or suits and ties. Rednecks just beat to the sound of their own drum.

If you searched the term "redneck" in Webster's Dictionary you'd find a picture of Buford Delbert Pierson. He was born in a rundown faded red shack on a dead end road in the middle of a heat wave in July,1959. Buford was the oldest of five children, and had his front teeth knocked out when he was twelve by pulling and swinging on limps from a gigantic Weeping Willow tree standing some twenty-feet tall. He was playing Tarzan, and was swinging from branch to branch in the Willow and then crossed over to an old White Oak just as a branch gave way striking him in the mouth. He didn't cry much, he mostly just spit and said "tough titty said the kitty when the milk went dry", you see Buford was a tough son-of-a-gun, and he had a way with words those from up north wouldn't appreciate or understand; he was a redneck from Kentucky.

Rednecks talk a little slower, and use words that may not be proper, but have a nice sound to them. They even like to repeat a popular phrase now and then like: "dog won't hunt", in other words: bad idea or a waste of time or "can't never could and could never would", in other words: you've got to try. Obviously, there is a communication barrier to break through to get on the country-type redneck speaking terms, and most fail to overcome that, and therefore miss the nuances and subtleties associated with this culture. It's not that they are stupid, it's they speak another language.

Now, some yaw-hoos are quick to resort to getting red (in other words they have a short fuse). A true redneck will show his colors when you add a little alcohol and get a few people around. Two or three drinks and ole Buford will be looking to test out his manhood. This may be the most dangerous part of being a redneck, cause there is always a bigger rooster wanting to play in the hen house. Fights and alcohol are associated with the redneck and poorer southern cultures, and its been that way since man first planted cotton and tobacco in the fields.

Rednecks are alive and well in America in every state and in every county throughout the vast land. Some would point to the dixie flag or perhaps even a Remington hat with a bent bill. Some would claim rednecks are loud, fond of beer, fight, and live in trailers. There are many other confusing attributes that define red neck culture: a person from the hills, a tobacco spitting camouflaged deer hunter, monster trucks, and NASCAR enthusist. It appears these so called redneck are just every day ordinary Americans that like a slower tune from the fiddle player, and just might get a little rowdy, but don't expect them to be in a suit and tie unless it's Sunday. As Buford Pierson says, "there is a little redneck in all of us."

Writing Feedback / Not Mr. Towers, he and his family watched TV; Narrative Essay [8]

I found this style kind of hard. I know I have punctuation mistakes and probably more stuff wrong. Any help, tips, advice, changes would be appreciated.

Mr. Towers receives a call from his wife around 10 A.M. on a sleepy Tuesday morning in late January, she claims there is a winter storm warning moving into our area with dangerous icing potential. He hasn't been keeping up with the weather for many long months, due to his intense research and economic studies, however, he remembered the last ice storm he had went through and decided to heed her warning and headed to town for supplies. Mr. Towers dressed hurriedly and grabbed his candy apple red gas jugs and his deep baltic blue kerosene jugs and then jumped into his black and silver GMC Suburban and drove to Rusellville. He knew that his three younger children would depend on him and not FEMA or Uncle Sam, assuming the Ice Storm knocked out power and stranded everyone in their home for days.

Mr. Towers lives with his adoring family on a ridge in a rural part of the county, on an old country road without any yellow or white lines on it and barely big enough for two cars to pass side by side. The closest gas station and grocery store are many miles away, if the soft grey roads ice over, he and his family could be stranded until the ice melts, which according to the weather forecast could be many long days and nights.

When he and his wife first started living together, they lived in Clarksville, TN in 1994 and as luck with have it through the biggest ice storm of their lifetimes. Mr. Towers and his pregnant wife were stranded for several days with minimal food rations and without power in the middle of winter, which meant a very cold house and a few hunger campers. He would learn a valuable lesson from this experience, as we shall soon see.

As the Ice Storm pulverized Mr Towers' rustic red brick home over the dark 2009 night, the power lines soon gave way to the heavy burden the ice had inflicted upon them. He was awoken to the absent sound of a fan running and to the lack of any other sounds, Mr. Towers had been expecting them to give way and arose from bed and dressed hurriedly and headed to the garage, where he started up his Honda 3000IU generator and filled it up with some unleaded gasoline from his candy apple red gas jug. He then ran a few high amperage orange extension cords into his house and plugged his Frigidaire refrigerator and Samsung television into them and then started working on fueling up his alternative heat source: a kerosene heater.

It took nearly seven days for the power lines to be repaired and for his electrical service to get back to working order. Many families had to struggle to stay warm and had no way to cook or keep their food fresh. Not Mr. Towers, he and his family watched TV, surfed the internet, played Nintendo Wii and cooked in the microwave, for he knew that a generator, kerosene heater and some fuel can get you through a pinch without power, and had planned ahead accordingly, however, without the reminder and sense of urgency displayed by his wife's call, there is little doubt he would have been in no position to ride out the storm, while living high on the hog, because he would have been without fuel. In most cases, as in this case two heads are better than one.