Great Moments in Kentucky Stereotyping: Roadkill Bingo Edition

by Becky

For the last few years, a British public relations firm hired by Kentucky's Department of Travel and Tourism  has been managing a website touting our great state. Last December, they added a little something new to the site. Well...

Just read below.

Drives can drag a bit, even with the jingle jangle of the banjo on the bluegrass-playing radio stations, so it’s good to spice them up with fun car games...

One popular game for long-distance trips is ‘roadkill bingo. OK, it seems a bit sick, spotting dead animals, but you will never see so much roadkill in your life, and so varied. Sadly, roadkill is a fact of life in Kentucky. The locals are used to it, and as they say, when in Rome. ... So if you can get over the sadness, and the blood, give it a whirl...

This is not from the tourism website. It's just something I found on the internets.

For the jackpot, however, it has to be a skunk; 10 points. Not because they are rare — they are not — but because when you drive slowly over a freshly killed one, it absolutely stinks. If you have the windows open or the sunroof up, award double points because the smell is overpowering. With the windows down you are at one with nature for some time: the smell — and it's as bad as the cartoons make out — stays in your car for up to five miles.

Needless today, the firm was fired and the tourism commissioner, Mike Cooper, has resigned his post. You can read more from nky.com here.

In a 2010 email, Cooper wrote of the PR firm's work, ‘I really like the site, especially the edginess of it. I wish we could get away with that over here!"

This article from the UK's Daily Mail follows that quote with:

Clearly, that ‘edginess’ is not accepted in Kentucky, and the state’s Republican leader spoke out about the great expense that the ordeal cost them.

"The fact that the state of Kentucky has spent close to $700,000 with a company that wants to bill us as the Roadkill Grill is just a ridiculous example of how we waste taxpayer dollars in Frankfort," said Steve Robertson, chairman of the state’s GOP group.

Ugh. I know roadkill bingo does not provide a flattering portrait of the varied wildlife and acres of lovely habitat in the Bluegrass State. But we're Kentucky. We're used to jokes about dead skunks and Dueling Banjos. None of that bothers me. I grew up here, I get the joke.

What bothers me is the insinuation that we don't get the joke. That "'edginess' is not accepted in Kentucky," and that we're so backwards, we don't even know how backwards we are.


A stereotype joke that is more delicious than roadkill. Taken at a friend's party.

One of my favorite aspects of Kentuckians is their sense of humor. We'll play the stereotype, the "happy hillbilly or the mean old redneck," as Callie likes to say. But we do it with our tongues in our toothless cheeks. Joke. That's a joke.

And if a British PR firm thinks that more people will want to visit us to see for themselves the mountain of dead animals clogging our rural byways, let 'em.

Because, hell. We get the joke.

Kentucky Ambassador

by Callie

When I’m not obsessing over my teaching job or pondering what blog post I’m going to compose next, I’m *supposed to be* writing my dissertation so I can finally be not-a-student.

My dissertation topic is one that usually requires quite a bit of explanation as to why it matters so I’m not going to go into it right now. Just trust me that it is worth studying.

I’m writing my dissertation on off-road trucks! and that topic took me to South Dakota this past July.



Trucks!

Why a girl from Kentucky would have to travel all the way to South Dakota to find some boys riding around the woods in trucks may not be perfectly clear. I mean Kentucky is full of fellas that put big ole' tires on otherwise ordinary trucks and drive through mud or wooded areas all the time. But the idea of actually making this into a research subject was inspired by a trip I took to the Black Hills Cruiser Classic in South Dakota in 2005 and the very serious trucks (really pieces of folk art) that I saw while there. It seemed only right that I go back to where I started and pester those same folks for help with my dissertation. They were all more than willing to oblige and I also made several new friends in the process.

Some of these new friends were three brave souls from that strange and foreign land, Canada, who pulled into the campground late one night and asked about the campsites next to us. We warned them that it got a little rowdy whenever this particular Kentucky crowd met up with our Minnesota buddies but they were more than welcome to join us. And join us they did putting us to shame each and every night with their ability to talk trucks and drink American beer well into the darker morning hours.



How a Kentuckian uses a cold South Dakota stream on a hot summer day.

The event ended with a great dinner and the drawing for raffle prizes. Our Canadian neighbors had put together a prize package that highlighted the more exotic aspects of Canadian life – cold weather, not everyone carrying handguns (come on!), Canadian beer, and hockey – and one of them gave a very informative ambassador-like presentation of the prizes.

I’d like to think that these fellas found it as interesting that I was from a place like “Kentucky” as I was of them being from “Canada.” After all, I have never been made so aware of the fact that I use the term “big ole’” as an adjective for almost everything as I was when around my new “eh” saying friends.

So… when it was mentioned to me that they have a truck event in Canada in February (they’re nuts!) called the River Shiver and would love a Kentucky prize package, I was very excited to give it a try. I thought it would be really fun to distill my lovely state down to a small box of what I thought gave off a unique Kentucky essence. So, here is a portion of the explanatory letter I sent along with artifacts:

I thought explaining Kentucky with a few objects would be really easy, but then I found out I couldn’t mail any alcohol to Canada. So I had to take a new approach.

Instead I ended up focusing on my hometown: Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. I included a map of my county, Boone County, so you wouldn’t think I was lying when I told you the name of the place. If you open the map, you’ll find other interesting towns in the area such as Sugar Tit, Big Bone Lick, and, yes, even Beaver Lick. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that there is even a Beaver Lick Baptist Church. How lovely!

I also threw in quite a bit of Rabbit Hash swag:

First off is a t-shirt representing the Rabbit Hash IronWorkers and their many duties:



To make the perfect and most stylish Rabbit Hash ensemble, I also included a hat which features Herb the Hillbilly, the town spokesman. He perpetuates the old stereotype of crazy hill people totin’ guns and drinkin’ shine. Not all of us look like this anymore.



But some of us do.

And that’s why I put in the Rabbit Hash movie, "Rabbit Hash: The Center of the Universe." This is a documentary about our “politics.” In it, you’ll meet some of the more colorful folks from the town. The film talks about our first “election” when a dog became mayor. We’re now on our third dog-mayor. People have stopped even trying to win; no one wants that.

And, the corn cob pipe. I felt really silly and somehow guilty writing “corn cob pipe” on the customs form I had to fill out, as if this is the one thing that would keep the package from arriving safely. While this says “Rabbit Hash” on it, I feel as if it is more representative of the entire state. After all, Kentucky’s number one cash-crop is marijuana and its number one LEGAL cash-crop is tobacco. Since I couldn’t send either of those, I sent this. So, if you got it, put it in the pipe and smoke it.



Now that the Super Bowl is over, America has turned all of its attention to NCAA men’s basketball. And guess what: The University of Kentucky is Number 1. That means that everyone is rushing to their nearest Wal-Mart stores to purchase college apparel in support of their team. This is the time of the year that people can be really proud to be from Kentucky because we’re not all over the news because of something bad, but because we are dominating in sports! And that’s all that really matters… So I sent some corny UK magnets and a hat. I hear its cold up there.

And finally, because you are all truck people and are bound to run into a tree or rock or who knows what else every once in awhile, I sent you a tool that will get rid of any blemish. I sent you a roll of Kentucky chrome, aka. duct tape. It not only fixes anything that breaks but sure gives a nice classy shine to any automobile! And I hear it is a good idea to keep some in your first aid kit for medical emergencies.

So, there you have it. My representation of Kentucky became reduced to my hometown, stereotypes, illicit activities, sports, and more stereotypes. It was intended to be funny and to entertain those Canucks  (is that a slur...) the way they had entertained me – by poking fun of what is often associated with our respective homes. Of course, I feel there is much more that Kentucky has to offer but I didn’t think that an event based on driving trucks through the Canadian wilderness in February was necessarily the best place to wax poetic about how the people in Kentucky are amazing, about how beautiful the rolling hills are, or even to provide some of the interesting history. But I hope my act was seen an act of friendship and of a round-about-pride in the best of the 50 United States.

Great Moments in Kentucky Stereotyping

by Becky

Let me say that, as a native Kentuckian, I am infinitely comfortable with our many backwards stereotypes, be they totally absurd or somewhat representative.

Here, have a clip from the fantastic 1995 movie Clueless.



Okay, you might not think Clueless is fantastic, but to my preteen self, it was pretty earth-shattering. Even if I didn't get all the jokes.

Just in case you don't want to sit through a minute and a half of schmoopy heartfelt conversation, I'll save you the hassle:

Josh confesses that he likes Cher. They share an awkward yet somehow, romantic kiss. Cher says, "Well, you can guess what happened next." Cut to a scene at a wedding where we, the (probably preteen and somewhat confused) audience assume Josh and Cher get hitched.

Cher says, "As if! I am only 16 and this is California, not Kentucky."

Even as a 13 year old, this made me giggle.

But let's do a little research. According to the US Census Bureau, the median age at first marriage in Kentucky in 2010 was 27.1 for men and 25.4 for the ladies. In California, it was 29.4 for dudes and 27.2 for females.

So, yeah, we do tend to pair up a little earlier in the Bluegrass State. But Kentucky isn't even in the top five states for the youngest average age at first marriage. Those are: Kansas, Utah, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Idaho.

But I guess that "This is California, not Oklahoma," just wasn't as catchy.