A guy from Detroit visited a small city in Mississippi over the holidays. He wanted to get to Mardi Gras for Fat Tuesday and was giving himself enough time to stop at every roadhouse, tavern, and casino along the stretch to New Orleans.
Anyhow, he stopped at a quaint little tavern along the way that was dressed up in Christmas lights. He couldn't resist and besides, he was mighty thirsty.
On top of the pool table was a Nativity scene, just a humble little thing made of clay statues and a wooden stable. Everything seemed right on the mark except that three guys wearing firemen's suits were on camels, staring down with their fixated stares on the babe in the manger.
"What in the world are those three firemen doing in that Nativity scene?" he asked the bartender. "They look ridiculous. This is blasphemy."
"Blasphemy?! You're in Confederate territory, part'ner. And ya' best watch yore mouth or yule git that puppy dog ass kicked clear back to Chick-Caw-Go! You're a dag-burned Yankee. I 'kin tell jest by the darn-tootin' way ya' tok. Jiminy Christmas, neighbor, down South we're really serious about The Holy Bible. We take it literally down here in Dixie. Mark Twain didn't write it, after all. Don't ya' know the bible says the three wise men visited from afar?"