Actually, everything in the South can sound much more funny to a born and bred Yankee. It's almost like a suave Frenchman telling me to take out the garbage. I swoon.
Sure, sometimes, Southern accents sound choppy and angry, even less than smart... but sometimes they are so charming and sweet, your pants practically fall right off.
What I like the best are the common working man accents. Nothing pretentious there.
Take the other day, when Mr. Bugman came to spray for ants.
I explain the problem we're having with a few pesky critters in one corner of the kitchen, and oddly enough in the bedroom above- where P tends to leave plates of orange slices out overnight.
He looks around then calls me over to see.
"Yes, Ma'am. I see the problem. C'mon down here and take a look. Now that-" (he points to a tiny spider) " - is a telltale sign you got yerself an ant problem." ( and here I thought the ant trail across the counter and down to the floor was the tell tale sign)
Bugman says, "You see? He was probably keeping the population down for you." ( and how many ants can a two ant-sized spider eat, Mr Bugman?)
"Don't worry," he says. "I'll take care of him for you." He leans in and with a thick index finger, squashes the little spider with a tiny pop- then wipes his finger on his Dickies and smiles at me.
He says, "And now I'm gonna take care of those ants."
Sensing a ripe opportunity for illuminating conversation, I say, "Your brochure says there are many species of ants that may require different treatments, is that right?"
"Yes Ma'am.We have 14 varieties right here in this area." He squats to spray something lethal from his backpack of death. "But the Argentinians? They're the troublemakers."
He wanders off to another room. I notice he has slipped some sort of paper covering over his shoes, and I wonder if a medical procedure is imminent.
"Is that right?" I say, following him. "Oh, those Argentinians..."
"And so, how will you treat for them versus other ants?"
"Well, we try to provide a smorgasbord ( yes- he said that) of food for them."
"See, they forage for different things during the day. Carbohydrates, proteins, sweets... so we want to attract them with our bait-"
"I see. (thinking maybe I am part Argentinian Ant) And then?"
"Then we draw them outside." He smiles. "And kill them."
Later he wants me to come outside where he has sprinkled something sure to make neighboring cats sick, and show me the trail from the mulch to the siding, where he has been watching worker ants leave my house to take his poisonous bait back to the colony. He assures me it is all very interesting, something I should squat right down there under the Gardenia bushes beside him and watch. And I do, for a little while, trying hard not to think of the movie ANTZ and those big bug eyes.