When Jed from the Beverly Hillbillies shot at some animal on his land and struck oil, he probably didn’t realise how it was going to change the life of his family. Yeah they moved to a nicer house in californy, bought nicer clothes (that they didn’t really wear), I guess he knew that part. But did he realise they’d lose their redneck ways, that their new Californian friends would wear away at their wholesome values and disrespect for the ends of words and that eventually one of them would have to go to a dentist?
If any of these bloody gummed, loose grammar’d rednecks ever visited an artist of the enamel arts, they probably would’ve experience a pain similar in duration and severity to what I have gone through over the last few weeks. It’s been character building to have a grown woman insert her entire hand in my mouth on a regular basis, often holding an implement of pain that could only otherwise exist in the wet dream of a gestapo officer. I feel like a better person, a cleaner person, a more at peace person. I guess everyone who experiences times of difficulty feels this way. I’ve grown.
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