They're friendly enough, I guess. Underneath the down-home exterior is the "what will they think of you if you say that, or do that, or think like that?" lurking, lurking.
There's a sense of control and violence, a sense of the Puritans with mullets and an even worse fashion sense. A town at least 10 or 20 years behind the times, all the time. It's where I live in the western US, in a town full of desperately-wanting-to-be-something-but-bland-like-Wonder-bread folk.
And they don't listen anyway.
It wouldn't matter if you did speak your very different kind of mind, they couldn't wrap their small minds around it. They think narrowly, in fragments, unable to see the whole thing or the big picture; but they're always certain they're open-minded.
It's feudal America, stuck in time. A dusty valley where the blistering heat gets trapped in the summer, and pollen, smoke and mold suffocate you while you are already choking on their pretense and hypocrisy.
Watch out who you look at. Watch out what you like.
Men are all predators, they're sure. And women are all crazy.
And don't expect to get your fill. Just expect to starve. They throw you crumbs and can't stand your lack of gratitude; all the while keeping the loaf stashed away and never on your table. They're not sure you should have the table.
They're serving up coercion, with a smile.
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