We don't make a party out of lovin
'We like holdin' hands and pitchin' woo
We don't let our hair grow long and shaggy
Like the hippies out in San Francisco do
UPDATE: The more I think of this story, the more it disturbs me as being inauthentic and basically class-warfare bait. Rural people are the first to engage in self-depreciating humor. I was fortunate enough to see Minne Pearl at the Grand Ole Opry before she passed. How-Dee! This idea that country folks take themselves so deadly serious, just doesn't ring true. Rednecks are the first to make fun of rednecks.
Also, the idea that "those people in San Francisco" don't know what a Cracker Barrel is, is well, ludicrous. People do travel, you know!
UPDATE: A reader writes that they don't have Cracker Barrel in California - although one is opening up soon in the State. They do have In-and-Out burger, though. We don't have In-and-Out burger on the East Coast, but I have heard of it. Because I've been to Utah.
The more I think about this story, the more appalled I am. The moral of the story seems to be, "never leave your hometown" which could be crippling advice. The other narrative is that the only two choices are some depressed town in the Midwest or the most expensive city to live in, in the United States. No in-between!
This is a class-warfare story, plain and simple, pitting the "honest decent folks" of the Midwest against those latte-sipping bastards on the coasts. Shame on the Wall Street Journal. And what the fuck does this story have to do with Wall Street? Or anything for that matter. Just another mouthpiece for Trumpism.