Never mind Pa ain't got no school smarts, his mind is free from craving, free from anger, and free from the other petty unpleasantries characteristic of city folk.
In what has to be the world's most fortunate hunting accident, Jed Clampett shoots at a squirrel, then lo and behold, hits black gold.Pa on the other hand, shoots to unleash an oil geyser, misses, but hits a squirrel dead between its sniffer holes. The same squirrel Momma skins, dices, and stuffs in her calzones. The rest is family lore.
Money don't change Pa one bit, but affords him time to cogitate. The secrets of Clem's Microwavable Squirrel Calzones were purchased by a posse of over-dressed but congenial lawyers to the tune of $782 million.
Pa built us a place not too far from kin in Butcher Holler. Momma filled the new place with bronze Buddha figures of all sizes. She and Pa have lots of time on their hands now to burn incense and the like.
The two talk of Nirvana. From what I gather, it involves stages on some grand path. Between you and me, it reeks of common sense -- stuff like refrain from evil, do what's good, and clear your head.
All those clashes of social class that made The Beverly Hillbillies such a golldarn knee-slapper now invade our lives like a disagreeable house guest. Lifelong have-nots, we hardly know how to behave amongst the haves. But if I learned anything from this moonshine ride we call life, it's this:
Don't underestimate what folks will eat if its stuffed in a calzone.
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