A couple of weeks ago the hicks from the sticks brought their awards show to cocktail and nightclub country, New York City, in the hope to cosmopolitan country music a bit, and let city folk know that you can be country and still read Truman Capote and attend talks at the YMHA. Ain't gonna happen so easy, pardner. Who's going to clean up the horse shit when all the Jasper's have gone back to Nashville?
And besides, after spending time in NYC, the dudes and dudettes were quite traumatized by wickedness they can't even sing about in their songs. The only ones who wear cowboy hats and chaps in New York are gays, and they still string them up down south. They string them up in New York too, but that's a good thing there, which I won't write about on this family friendly website.
Hank Williams Jr., the best country singer in the world once wrote a song called "If Heaven Ain't A Lot Like Dixie". Dig these words and you'll understand why there's no country music radio station in New York, and why the Opry boys won't ever really feel good there:
If heaven ain't a lot like Dixie, I don't wanna go.
If heaven ain't a lot like Dixie, I'd just as soon stay home.
If they don't have a Grand Ole Opry, like they do in Tennessee
Just send me to hell or New York City
It would be about the same to me.
After the awards show last week, Hank Jr. even wanted Mayor Bloomberg to pick up his bar tab. When the mayor refused, Hank gave him a nice "Attitude Ajustment" by throwing him out the front window of the Lone Star bar and grill.
So, cowboys, do yourself a favor, and keep country and western music a southern thing where people understand what the hell you're talking about and you can sing songs about writing home to your gal from the front and eating hog jowls for the Fourth Of July. New York City ain't a country town. It's rap. And she will slit your throat if you get pushy. I'd say Norfolk is about as far north as you should giddy up to.