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The Red Dirt Review is where rednecks, hillbillies and people who can name more than one Willie Nelson song come to congregate. This is the place for outlaw music, beer-swilling poetry, and fiction that might involve inappropriate thoughts involving farm animals. Alright, that last bit’s not really true, but we do like a little Waylon and a lot of PBR. So if you’ve spent any time in the South, and I don’t mean in a “God as my witness” kinda way, more like a “Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound” kinda way, welcome home. We missed you, so sit down over here on the porch with us and watch the junebugs get caught in the big zapper. Pop brought some smooth peach moonshine, and the weather’s nice, so why not sit a spell?