Portrait of a True American Man

I am an American man.

I live in a modest house with my modest wife and average children.

I work 60 hours a week at a job that brings me no satisfaction for the insurance.

I don’t care for funny things, but that Bill Engvall sure can sure tell a joke.

I type in all caps in my Facebook posts — even the ones about restaurants.

I am an American man.

Just give me a phone that makes calls. That’s all I need.

Lock her up!

I have enough wraparound sunglasses to get me by.

I live in the Midwest somewhere.

I am an American man.

My favorite channel is, of course, USA.

I own a dozen guns that I keep securely locked away in a closet with a babyproofing doorknob cover on it. Just try and take them.

You can take the man out of the country, but you can’t take the USA out of me.

I have a purebred mutt-dog named Patton. His name? Patton.

I am an American man.

I watch nothing but WWII documentaries, and the weather.

It didn’t take a village when I was growing up.

I call a lot of people libtards — a lot of people.

My cousin studied philosophy. You know what it got him? Turned gay.

I am an American Man.

You can quote your Shakespeare. As for me and my house, we’ll quote the Scriptures.

I can trace my lineage back as far as it matters — 1776.

My nickname is Little Burger. Burger was my daddy.

If you want this country, you’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

I am an American man.

Funeral Director and humor writer from Memphis, TN. http://mortified.substack.com for funeral-related humor. http://josephthomascomedy.com for everything else.