My brother used to call me a “cotton picker” all the while we were growing up together in the 50s. I figured there were a lot worse names to be called.
Since we lived in Michigan, it probably had a different connotation than if we were growing up in Kentucky. My parents weren’t racists so they wouldn’t have allowed it to continue – if they even gave it a thought.
This isn’t really important and I didn’t give it a thought until it seems that in the near future, I will actually BE a cotton picker.
Our Texas friends decided that we needed to get into the cotton business and sent Nancy the seeds. She has a great crop started. I will be tilling up the back 40 (square inches) soon to transplant the cotton. The ground temperature isn’t quite warm enough yet.
This is one of those events in a geezer’s life that we get excited about.
OMG can we handle the thrills?
It’s our start in agriculture that I foresee progressing this way:
Chicki, Nancy’s golfin’ buddy, suggested that we just start with the pot. I told her that probably wouldn’t work because we would see the profits go up in smoke.
And I will be applying for a government grant (free money that falls from the sky like a giant fireball.)
Along the same lines is Judas Priest sacrilegious? I used this in place of Jesus Christ all through high school and college. The band Judas Preist didn’t come along until 1969. So I sure don’t know where I picked up using it in the early 60s.
And why doesn’t Judas Priest have an apostrophe?