As all true Daughters of the South know (when they are reminded by their psycho Autie Belle) that James Ewell Brown Stuart was born on February 6, 1833. You know, “JEB” Stuart!

For you ignorant Yankees, JEB was a kickass Confederate Army general during the War Of Secession. As a cavalry commander, JEB was known for his dashing image (red-lined gray cape, yellow sash, hat cocked to the side with a peacock feather, red flower in his lapel) and his audacious tactics. His wild raids and daring recon missions made him the Robert Pattinson of the Civil War.

So on Saturday, I’m fixing to party like it’s 1861. I’m going to succeed from the Union, and form my own country that I’m going to call TexAmerica, which I’ll tell all about in some other blog.

I’d like ya’all to join me in a fandango across America. First, we should all form our pickups and tractors in a circle around the Trailer Park. If you are so underprivileged to have neither a pickup nor to live in a trailer park, just do the best you can. The rest of us will understand.

Next, dig out that big jug from under the sink, the light brown ceramic one with no label. Crank up Gretchen Wilson on your iPods. Put on your boot scootin boogie duds. And tune up your rebel yells. There’s a lot to do to get this hoedown right, so I’m going to read you from the book, starting with your decor.

Put up the Texamerica flag that I designed featuring Little Dickie Armeydillo. If you ain’t got yourself an official Noni Texamerica flag, then a Texas Lonestar flag, or the Rebel Battle flag will do. But you should show your country colors just like you would if we was all teabagging. Indiana flags don’t count.

Appetizers for the boys should include Slim Jims and pork rinds. For dessert, Fried Twinkies. If you’re feeling adventuresome, ask Aunt Cousin Jody Lee to make her famous Jello Surprize Mold. Main courses should be anything you can cook on a barbeque that don’t clash with potato salad.

Sing-along tunes should be like Kenny Chesney’s “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” or Alan Jackson’s “It’s Alright To Be A Redneck”. I identify with Gretchen’s “Redneck Woman”. Joe Diffie’s “John Deere Green” make me want to cry. Garth’s classic “I’ve Got Friends In Low Places” is probably the best singalong. In Texas, we don’t listen to the Dixie Chicks no more, but if you must, you can play “Goodbye Earl”. If you want a crossover dude, I like Kid Rock singing Sweet Home Alabama “All Summer Long”.

If you feel you need some western to balance all the country, how about Willie and Toby wailing “Whiskey For My Men, Beer For My Horses!” For your mandatory wet t-shirt pole dance contest I’m partial to “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” which Miley Cyrus likes, too, and I borrowed some sweet moves from her from her “Party In The USA” video.

Male attire for this fandango might be like DeKalb Seedcorn ballcaps, Marlboros rolled up in the sleeve of your green “Runs Like A Deer” t-shirt, clean pressed jeans, and steel toed engineers boots just in case somebody needs a right good stompin’. Mullet cuts are no longer cool. And don’t forget to carry your second amendment statement everwheres you go.

The female dress code might include a cowboy hat like mine, short-short cutoffs, tight t-shirt or K-Mart blouse rolled up to show off those situps, with either red cowboy boots or rhinestone-covered fckme pumps. Accessorize with bling bought in Vegas or a National Park. If you want to go nuevo-upscale, just wear whatever Lady GaGa or Lindsay Lohan do in their latest stupid escapade in the Star, which is where I get my best fashion ideas.

Our beer de jour depends on what part of the country your party is a happening. Of course, a premier Trailer Park in the deep south is best. But not everybody can be so lucky. I’m partial to Shiner beer. But Jax or Dixie will do the job. Pabst Blue Ribbon is a also a pretty good Bubba Beer. Well hell, get whatever beer is cheapest at the Connie’s Superette where your Mom worked when she let you rob it as a 14th birthday present.

If you’re the kind that goes for real drinks, there’s straight shots of Rebel Yell for the boys. Alabama Slammers are always nice for the little ladies. And Strip And Go Nakeds for everybody for when Cousin Heather gets a mite rowdy and takes off her top to relive how she danced on the bar at her wedding reception.

You should have some contests after when everybody finds their “Hell, Yeah!” spirit. These contests might involve spittin, pissin, and two-step dancin’. Maybe a tattoo contest that ain’t about how good the tat is, but best story that goes with it. I ain’t telling mine again, cause everybody just snickers. If you want to get really rowdy, and your cousins are understanding badge-totters, you might consider Party Favors (created in a basement laboratory by the neighborhood biker gang) that have a name like Iron Mike’s Crystal Zoom. But I don’t really recommend going thataway unless you need to be just a mite crazer to get your SSI disability.

I strongly recommend a row of portapoddies or Uncle Buford (or your family equivalent) might probably embarrass you again this year. And finally, remember not to sleep with cousins or closer, and keep your uncles away from the sheep. I really mean it.

As all true daughters of the south know (when they are reminded by their mothers) that on October 18, 1767, the Mason-Dixon Line was aligned — separating the damn Yankees from the good old good olds. And in 1925, the marvelous Grand Ole Opry radio show first hit the airwaves in Nashville, Tennessee. Both on the same day. Now if that ain’t a double-dinger worth a soirre, I don’t know what is.

So today, I’m fixing to party like it’s 1859. And I’d like everybody to join me in a virtual fandango across America. First, we should all form our pickups and tractors in a circle around the Trailer Park. If you are so underprivileged to have neither a pickup nor to live in a trailer park, just do the best you can. The rest of us will understand.

Next, dig out that big jug from under the sink, the light brown ceramic one with no label. Crank up Gretchen Wilson on your iPods. Put on your boot scootin boogie duds. And tune up your rebel yells. There’s a lot to do to get this hoedown right, so I’m going to read you from the book, starting with your decor.

Put up the Texamerica flag that I designed featuring Dick Armeydillo. If you ain’t got yourself an official Noni Texamerica flag, then a Texas Lonestar flag, or the Rebel Battle flag will do. But you should show your country colors just like you would if we was all teabagging. Indiana flags don’t count.

Appetizers for the boys should include Slim Jims and pork rinds. For dessert, Fried Twinkies. If you’re feeling adventuresome, ask Aunt Cousin Jody Lee to make her famous Jello Surprize Mold. Main courses should be anything you can cook on a barbeque that don’t clash with potato salad.

Sing-along tunes should be like Kenny Chesney’s “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” or Alan Jackson’s “It’s Alright To Be A Redneck”. I identify with Gretchen’s “Redneck Woman”. Joe Diffie’s “John Deere Green” make me want to cry. Garth’s classic “I’ve Got Friends In Low Places” is probably the best singalong. In Texas, we don’t listen to the Dixie Chicks no more, but if you must, you can play “Goodbye Earl”. If you want a crossover dude, I like Kid Rock singing Sweet Home Alabama “All Summer Long”.

If you feel you need some western to balance all the country, how about Willie and Toby wailing “Whiskey For My Men, Beer For My Horses!” For your mandatory wet t-shirt pole dance contest I’m partial to “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” which Miley Cyrus likes, too, and I borrowed some sweet moves from her.

Male attire for this fandango might be like DeKalb Seedcorn ballcaps, Marlboros rolled up in the sleeve of your green “Runs Like A Deer” t-shirt, clean pressed jeans, and steel toed engineers boots just in case somebody needs a right good stompin’. Mullet cuts are no longer cool. I mean you, Trig! And don’t forget to carry your second amendment statement everwheres you go.

The female dress code might include a cowboy hat like mine, short-short cutoffs, tight t-shirt or K-Mart blouse rolled up to show off those situps, with either red cowboy boots or rhinestone-covered fckme pumps. Accessorize with bling bought in Vegas or a National Park. If you want to go nuevo-upscale, just wear whatever Brittany Spears or Lindsay Lohan do in their latest stupid escapade in the Star, which is where I get my best fashion ideas.

Our beer de jour depends on what part of the country your party is a happening. Of course, a premier Trailer Park in the deep south is best. But not everybody can be so lucky. I’m partial to Shiner beer. But Jax or Dixie will do the job. Pabst Blue Ribbon is a also a pretty good Bubba Beer. Well hell, get whatever beer is cheapest at the Connie’s Superette where your Mom worked when she let you rob it as a 14th birthday present.

If you’re the kind that goes for real drinks, there’s straight shots of Rebel Yell for the boys. Alabama Slammers are always nice for the little ladies. And Strip And Go Nakeds for everybody for when Cousin Heather gets a mite rowdy and takes off her top to relive how she danced on the bar at her wedding reception.

You should have some contests after when everybody finds their “Hell, Yeah!” spirit. These contests might involve spittin, pissin, and two-step dancin’. Maybe a tattoo contest that ain’t about how good the tat is, but best story that goes with it. I ain’t telling mine again, cause everybody just snickers.

If you want to get really rowdy, and your cousins are understanding badge-totters, you might consider Party Favors (created in a basement laboratory by the neighborhood biker gang) that have a name like Iron Mike’s Crystal Zoom. But I don’t really recommend going thataway unless you need to be just a mite crazer to get your SSI disability. I strongly recommend a row of portapoddies or Uncle Buford (or your family equivalent) might probably embarrass you again this year.

And finally, remember not to sleep with cousins or closer, and keep your uncles away from the sheep.

I really mean it.