My Midget Patch

My name is Emily Pearson and I am a mockaholic. It has been 73 days since my last little person public poke fun. Since the beginning of my midget minded blog-mock I openly acknowledged that it was small and politically incorrect of me. That it was no different than making black, fag and retard jokes, something I would sooner be a polygamous Mormon than do. (I cringe even writing those words.) In fact, I would rip someone a new one who was that ignorant. So, why the hell was it okay to make fun of midgets? Yeah, I know. It wasn't.

I tried to quit. I swore off midget mocking for good. I did pretty well for a while but then I saw that video and read Chelsea Handler and totally tumbled, head first, off the wagon.

Then I was taken to task by a few readers who reminded me, yet again, that it is ridiculously hypocritical of me to be screaming for human rights, ranting about honoring people for who they are - who they were born to be, while making fun of people who just happened to be born small. Well, okay, we're all born small - they just happen to stay that way. You know what I mean.

I started over and, like I said, now have 73 days of public midget mock sobriety under my belt. But I was still having massive withdrawals. The kids and I were at a movie a couple of weeks ago and I suddenly noticed they were looking at me with giant saucer eyes and repeating, "Mom, don't turn around. Whatever you do, do NOT turn around." I don't know how I knew - I just knew. "Is it a midget?" They nodded. I lowered my head, pursed my lips tightly and willed my shoulders not to shake as the tears ran down my cheeks. I was so blissfully happy. I did fire off a couple of text messages but I did not, until now, blog about my sighting. And this, for the official record, is not midget mocking. This is merely midget sharing.

I need to stop the twitching of quitting cold turkey. I need a replacement - something to fill the giant gaping hole left by the dwarfs. (Do NOT ask me why that is the politically correct term they prefer. Seriously? Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey?) I need a patch to wear as I get the nicotine like midgety chemical out of my system. I have racked my brain over and over. What can replace midgets? What makes me laugh almost as much? What can I mock that no one, including me, can crucify me for? What walks the planet just begging to be made fun of? And then it hit me...

Hillbillies!!!

How did I not see it before? The billies of the hills! They may not bring the same Christmas morning giggles as midgets but item for item they bring WAY more mock for my buck. Midgets may have big heads but hillbillies have mullets. No contest. Midgets may have cute round wiggle butts but hillbillies have absolutely no butts whatsoever. Just back then leg. What is UP with that? Plus there's the missing teeth and the lazy eyes and the whole inbreeding thing.

A midget is pretty much just a midget - hell, I just saw one at the Megaplex and he looked just like the one I saw at the airport. And that actor who is in everything bugs me. He seems like such an asshole. And, I'm sorry, but asshole midgets just ruin it for the rest of them. But I live in Utah where there are countless variations of hillbillies all around me. Behind the counter at the gas station. At every Wal-Mart. At the Kelly Temp Services office I worked at in West Valley. There are a pack of, what appear to be female, hillbillies with the most confusing mullets EVER that work at the Salt Palace. At the mall with their sister wives and matching clown car vaginas. In the Senate gurgling gleefully about Pig Sex. In Toole. In my extended family.

However, technically, the aforementioned hillbillies are not real hillbillies. Oh, they will do for a good mocking now and then but they are watered down versions of the real thing. They are Hillbilly Light. And I'm not talking about the Beverly Hillbillies. They were well paid actors on a TV show and while Ellie May and Jethro may have gotten it on once in a while they weren't really related so it doesn't really count. Real true hillbillies can pretty much only be found in cabins in the Appalachian Mountains and in traveling carnivals - as rare and elusive as unicorns. And almost as magical. I cannot wait to begin my search.

And here's the very best part. No one can write me and tell me that they have a hillbilly child and my words are wounding to their heart. (A) Real hillbillies don't have a clue that they are hillbillies and the parent of a real hillbilly is also a hillbilly and therefore unaware of that fact as they run their tongue along the jelly space where their teeth used to be. (B) Any parent that is not a hillbilly but has a child that is a hillbilly and is defending that child deserves to be mocked - if not shot. (C) Unlike size, skin color and sexuality, while one may have been born TO a hillbilly, one does not have to BE a hillbilly. Barack Obama was born underprivileged but he did not stay that way. I was born Mormon but not stay that way. And hillbillies? Well all I can say is welcome to the age of education, hair salons and dentistry.

So, I'm sorry but if any of you leave a comment saying that you work in a carnival and are proud of your mullet and want me to support sibling marriage with the same gusto I support gay marriage I will unapologetically say what I have said before. "Step away from the livestock Cletus, ya freakin' hillbilly!"