I don’t want to alarm you; but Southern accents are disappearing. The Associated Press reported that “Due to an influx of new residents within the lower U.S., Dixie dialects are fading into oblivion.”

Oblivion.

Well, my cow in the morning — as Jimbo’s mother would say. I don’t even know where Oblivion is. Somewhere up near Cincinnati, I think. This will never do.

If we lose Southern drawls, that means there will be no more rednecks. And if there are no more rednecks wandering the earth, that means I’m dead. And if I’m room temperature, then who’s driving my truck? I really don’t want my brother-in-law to have it.

Now let’s just calm down a minute. There’s got to be something we can do about this Oblivion thing.

And as it happens, I’ve got a humble idea. I think the only hope for our wayward nation — and I can’t believe I’m saying this — is my mother-in-law. That’s right, she’s going to save us from Yankee Oblivion.

We’re going to start a Southern school, and my mother-in-law will be the dean. If you’ve never met her, she speaks like a jar of unrefrigerated Karo syrup. She uses words like, “WUN-dah-ful,” and, “simply MAH-vah-luss.”

Yes, here at Southern Academic Speech School, (“S.A.S.S.”), Mother Mary promises to teach authentic Southern dialect. And, kids will learn other Southern values too; how to write thank-you cards, proper koozie etiquette, and how to dump peanuts into Coca-Cola (Ko-KOLA).

For morning exercises: students recite the Lord’s Prayer in five different languages. Georgian, Alabamian, Mississippian, Good Ol’ Boy, and Methodist. Students also dine on Southern cuisine. For breakfast: grits (GREE-yits), biscuits (BEE-skitts), and sausage links (Conecuh). For lunch: a tomato sandwich (‘mater-sammich), slathered with mayonnaise (Duke’s), and a healthy beverage (Bud Lite).

At the academy, we hereby foreswear to preach old-fashioned values. We’ll teach your children to appreciate trucks, Blue Tick hounds, Georgia Pacific paper products, Bear Bryant, Shug Jordan, and pound cake.

Either that, or I’m packing my bags and moving to cotton-picking Oblivion.

Because my brother-in-law is not getting my truck.