My golf friends Dave and Ray introduced me a few years ago to a new moniker for locals I’d otherwise call rednecks.
“There goes a goober for ‘ya,” they’d say, referring to someone who was, well, a goober.
It’s a delightfully derisive term that’s a mixture of hick, hayseed, redneck and perhaps any other sort of Southern ruralism you’d care to apply.
I’m not sure of the exact origins of the name, other than it also referred to that hapless denizen of fictional Mayberry, Goober, who was a regular character on The Andy Griffith Show. Goober embodied all the things you envision in a goober: slow of wit, slow on the uptake, and mindless. But he was an affectionably kindly guy that you couldn’t help but like. Not so with the dolts we clean up after.
As you know, my description of litterers is fairly narrow and largely unimaginative; slobs, louts, jerks, idiots, morons, et al. But it occurred to me at roughly the halfway point in this morning’s stroll to add goober to my arsenal of less-than-flattering descriptors.
It is truly an apt term. It is at once insulting, derogatory, belittling and demeaning without being overly mean spirited. Which makes it an ideal way to reference the bums who toss stuff out that you and I have to pick up.
Here’s looking at you, goobers.