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Last Saturday Night, Rachel and I went to see Kenny Chesney in Concert at Lincoln Financial Field, home of the Philadelphia Eagles. Mom got us tickets for Rachel's birthday in the 5th row. They were INCREDIBLE seats!!! Thanks Mom!
Although it was extremely hot (93) that Saturday, the humidity was under 30% and our seats went into the shade after only about 90 minutes of the concert. The concert started at 4:00 PM and went until about 11:15. Now that's a party!
Unfortunately, my camera batteries died early during Kenny's performance. Below is a short video clip that gives a sense of the atmosphere. First of all the stadium was packed. Secondly, everyone was into it. He does a really nice job selecting his opening acts (they are all people who are full of energy and who get the crowd going before he ever gets on stage). In the video he is singing "Summertime". Beach balls are whizzing around everywhere, and the fans are into the song. It was really cool.
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REFLECTIONS - Can I See Your Southern Card?
I have often told people that rednecks do not only exist in the south. In fact, some of the biggest rednecks I have ever seen, live north of the Mason-Dixon line. Take Reed's, Bill's, Clark's, Patrick's and my buddy, Preston from St. Joseph's, MI. He is the only human I have ever seen have a dip in while drinking a pitcher of beer (he did not remove the dip, and yes, he was drinking directly from the pitcher).
The young ladies below further back up the statement that "You don't have to be southern to be a redneck." Nothing screams "redneck" more than three girls in bikini tops and daisy-duke shorts holding up a "Priceless" sign.
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Now that I have provided empirical evidence, let's all agree to Kennedy's Theory of Redneckism: "All Rednecks do not live in the south". (The rebel flag RV was toting PA plates, and Preston was definitely a native of Michigan).
With that, I will introduce Corollary 1. This is actually a transitive property of Kennedy's Theory of Redneckism: "Just because you are a redneck does not mean you are from the South."
The perfect illistration of this corollary came about 2/3 of the way through Kenny's set, when he announced to the crowd that he was going to cover a special song that night since the crowd was so fired up. When he proceeded to sing David Alan Coe's "You Don't Have to Call Me Darlin', Darlin'", Rachel and I were ecstatic. After all, Kenny chose to cover the #2 song in the hearts of all true southerners ("Sweet Home Alabama" being the first). As we began belting out the lyrics to the first verse ("You don't have to call me Waylong Jennings. You don't have to call me Charlie Pride. And you don't have to call me Merle Haggard anymore..."), we noticed that we were essentially the only people in our section that knew the lyrics!!! If you sang this song at any bar, pub, football tailgate, NASCAR race or any other venue with over 100 people, folks would be standing on tables and chairs wailing at the tops of their lungs. In Philadelphia, you get CRICKETS CHIRPING. Nothing...Nada. Blank stares and silence. It was a rather awkward moment.
But, you will all be proud to know that Rachel and I let the other 50,000 + fans know that there were at least 2 southerners in the house, as we belted the song out to completion (Complete with multiple "Let me, Let me, Let me, Let me" during the chorus. If you are one of my northern friends reading this blog, I can explain to you later).