Mountain stereotypes not funny

I object to Larry Webster’s May 1 column. It was with dismay that I read his feeble attempt at humor — although I am not certain it was humor.

My roots run deep in Leslie County, where I was born and raised. We never placed vehicles on cement blocks in front of our house. We did eat coleslaw during the cabbage harvest months, but rarely in conjunction with boiled hot dogs. We never had soda pop with meals; milk was always a beverage staple.

My family was never in court for suing anyone. And we never killed friends or family. My parents, not my grandparents, raised my eight siblings and me.

The comment about slipping money to social workers if you want to adopt a child was way over the top. Working as a state social worker was my career, and I deeply resent the inflammatory implication. Not once did I take money to complete an adoption.

The paragraph about 200 chickens tied to pegs went right over my head. Ditto for the music reference. The Osborne Brothers are my first cousins, but Prince and David Bowie will, indeed, be missed.

I have been fighting the perpetuation of these stereotypes my entire life, and the paper has just lost a frequent reader.

This story was originally published May 6, 2016 at 6:53 PM with the headline "Mountain stereotypes not funny."