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A four-street shithole in the northern panhandle of West Virginia. Founded in 1905 when a man named Newell gave up his last hope of finding anywhere decent to live and settled down with a one-eyed, toothless, backwoods woman and produced Newell’s first official retard. Newell’s two claims to fame are its large population of mullet-wearin', wall-eyed, gun-totin’, tobacky-chewin’ illiterates; and the presence of Mountaineer, a gaming resort filled with coffin dodgers and welfare cases spending their gubment checks and shitting themselves because they don’t want to leave the nickel slot machines. Outsiders often hear the sound of “Dueling Banjoes” in their heads when driving through it.
Outsider: What the fuck is that? Banjo music?
Newellite 1: What's he sayin’, Cletus?
Newellite 2: Cecil, you know I don't know forrin’.
(Newell, WV)
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A four-street shithole in the northern panhandle of West Virginia. Founded in 1905 when a man named Newell gave up his last hope of finding anywhere decent to live and settled down with a one-eyed, toothless, backwoods woman and produced Newell’s first official retard. Newell’s two claims to fame are its large population of mullet-wearin', wall-eyed, gun-totin’, tobacky-chewin’ illiterates; and the presence of Mountaineer, a gaming resort filled with coffin dodgers and welfare cases spending their gubment checks and shitting themselves because they don’t want to leave the nickel slot machines. Outsiders often hear the sound of “Dueling Banjoes” in their heads when driving through it.
Outsider: What the fuck is that? Banjo music?
Newellite 1: What's he sayin’, Cletus?
Newellite 2: Cecil, you know I don't know forrin’.
(Newell, WV)
11👍 31👎