T. GAMBLE: Naked at the creek with a Solo cup

Country music continues to evolve from the twangy version I grew up to love back in the ’70s to a sometimes unrecognizable version today. There is hardly a steel guitar to be found and Porter Wagoner would rip off his rhinestones at the way some modern country stars dress.

But, change is inevitable, even in country music. My issue with today’s country has nothing to do with new sounds, pop influences, or occasional rock guitar riffs. Nope, I’m worried about country music’s infatuation with certain images that flow through every song.

When, pray tell, did it become a country songwriter’s absolute duty to include a Solo cup in at least every third country song? Until about five years ago I could count on one hand the number of songs I had ever heard that included a mention of a Solo cup, or a Dixie cup, in my entire lifetime. How about zero, as in never?

But now, if you follow country music, folks in the country are never seen without a Solo cup, preferably red. No self- respecting hot Southern chick would dare be caught after 5 p.m. without a red Solo cup. New York has its little black dress, we in South Georgia have a red Solo cup.

I have concluded it is virtually impossible for a Southern female to even enter a four-wheel-drive truck without an accompanying red Solo cup. She may be able to enter a two-wheel-drive truck without one, but I am not sure because two-wheel-drive trucks do not exist in country music.

I think every Southern male has a Solo cup dispenser under his Yeti Cooler Hat. A Southern male would rather be involved in a bad car wreck with ragged underwear than find himself out at night without the cup.

Now, according to country music, not a single person has ever grown up without going down to a creek, drinking, of course, from a red Solo cup, in a four-wheel-drive truck, with a pretty young thing in tight jeans, and then proceeding to get naked.

I grew up with at least four creeks within a mile or two of my house. If only I had known everyone was going down there getting naked all the time, I might have spent more time at the creek and less time at the ball field. In country music, you go to the creek like most folks go to Walmart … often. I don’t know much, but my 11-year-old Princess daughter has already been banned for life from ever even viewing a creek bank, much less getting in one.

Country music is also pretty big on religion when they are not driving around drinking from a Red Solo cup and getting naked at the creek. I have deduced they are bigger on the Old Testament than the New Testament, following an eye for an eye a whole lot more than forgiveness.

If you cross a country girl she will cut your tires, go out with your best friend and probably go down to the creek and get naked with him, and take every dime you ever had — including all your red Solo cups.

Predictably, all this drinking from a red Solo cup, and naked creek fun, leads to the bar, where every self-respecting, four-wheel-driving, Yeti-hat-wearing, God fearing Southern boy must end up to drown his sorrows.

This is where country returns to its roots. A southern boy must let the world know he could not give one hoot in hell if his girlfriend is now down at the creek with his best friend naked. He’ll just sit here and drink and not even pay her the least bit of attention, especially considering the restraining order she took out a few weeks ago.

From “He Stopped Loving Her Today” to “ She’s Acting Single I’m Drinking Double,” nothing much has changed. Except, without question, the double drink is now in a Red Solo cup.

Email columnist T. Gamble at [email protected].