** Welcome to Tuscaloosa County, Alabama, where the cornbread's just sweet enough, the coffee's strong enough to raise the dead, and every family's got a rulebook written in red-clay dirt, duct tape, and pure spite. This ain't your grandma's etiquette guide. The Whooped Ass Accord is half memoir, half survival manual, and 100 % unfiltered red-dirt truth. From cue balls to the head in the pool hall, to Daddy's belt that hurt less than his silence, to the night ]Stankin'McJenkins got told "anytime" by a Ouija board and actually showed up, these are the stories we only tell after the kids go to bed and the preacher drives past. Laugh till you cry. Cry till you laugh. And learn the only laws that ever really mattered: - Don't feed Mawmaw's collards to the hogs - Never whoop ass on Sunday (unless...) - If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough - And whatever you do... don't piss off the woman holding the casserole Because in the end, love and a good ass-whoopin' are pretty much the same thing down here. Rachel Michelle Canida-Dunn grew up dumb as a box of rocks, tough as pine knots, and loved anyway. This is her love letter to every scar, every laugh, and every ghost who taught her how to live. Grab your sweet tea. Say your prayers. And turn the page, if you dare.
