The Rib Shack

The Cure For What Ails You

The weekend was simply epic. My nephew killed the most impressive whitetail deer I have ever seen. He was in the woods less than half an hour before he stuck that monster with an arrow. You’d have thought he won the lottery.

We all stayed up too late swapping lies and watching my dad’s old football highlight films. Dad was a football star back in the day and once had a spread in Sports Illustrated. He is pretty awesome.

This is a really rural part of Alabama and there were exactly two places to get food. One was a gas station. The other was a simply cracking BBQ place called the Rib Shack. What we found there restored my faith in humanity.

The place was clean, quaint and popular. A sign in the kitchen read, “Best in Town.” Given this was the only restaurant for maybe 30 miles, it was not a specious claim. However, the Rib Shack did serve what was arguably the finest barbecue I have ever eaten.

The Rib Shack is a family business. The patriarch/cook is an enormous black man with ample dreadlocks. He keeps his flowing dreads tucked inside a pillowcase while he cooks. The man’s daughter ran the register. His wife clearly ran absolutely everything, to include the cook.

The place was packed with patrons of all shapes, sizes and hues. The building was alive with laughter and conviviality. There was a great deal of, “Nice to see you, Joe. How’s the wife?” going back and forth irrespective of ethnic lines. All were clearly pretty stoked about their pending lunch.

In the context of our Emmett Till discussion, I found the whole scene refreshing. Here was an entire building’s worth of multi-colored humanity all brought together with the common goal of securing some simply superlative pig meat. There was not a spot of acrimony or racial discord to be found anyplace. Then I noticed it.

Hanging on a nail back in the kitchen in full view of the patrons was a superbly accessorized 9mm AR pistol. The stubby little gun sported a pistol stabilizing brace, a 33-round GLOCK magazine, a nice piece of tactical glass, and a pleasing OD Cerakote finish. I do this for a living and this gun was done up right. That’s when it hit me.

What happened to Emmett Till will never happen again, at least not down here in the Deep South. The reason is not some profound racial enlightenment, though that is perhaps part of it. The reason innocent 14-year-old black kids will never again be lynched down here is because the restaurant owner with those epic dreads keeps a locked and loaded 9mm AR pistol hanging on a nail in the kitchen of his thriving little business.

I rather suspect if anyone ever complained about the gun they would be encouraged to take their business elsewhere (you recall this is the only restaurant in town). If anyone was stupid enough to try to rob the place, the lethal combination of the AR pistol and Lord-only-knows how many concealed carriers would put paid to that nonsense in short order. And, if anybody got an itch to lynch somebody, the entire little community would turn out en masse to make it right. And that, my friends, is the real reason behind the Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

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