Somebody told me a cute story once which might even
be true.  One of the most ancient & wonderful
restaurants in Mississippi is called Lusco's & is in
Greenwood in an old brick commercial building.  There
is not, and never has been, a menu & each table is in a
high cubicle with walls about 7 feet high with a curtain
at the door for privacy--The same few invariable
entres are announced by an austere Negro major domo
with the hauteur of the Grand Vizier of Pharaoh.  If
you are permitted admittance, pompano swimming in
garlicky lemon butter & onion rings of the Gods is what
you want.  You bring your liquor in a brown paper bag &,
if you have to ask the price, you don't need to be there.

Anyhow, once there was this wild Delta boy (and keep
in mind that, even by Mississippi standards, which are
already kicked up a notch (as Emeril says), all Delta
boys are wilder & more hell-raising than anybody in the
world) & this Delta girl (a concept impossible to put
into words) had been going with him & felt he had done
her wrong.  She was at Lusco's with a bunch of other
Delta girls (terrible as an army with banners) & was
telling them in detail what a perfect shit he was.  
Unbeknownst to her, he was in the next cubicle &
listening to every word.  Of course, he did the only
thing a self-respecting Delta boy could do--he took off
all his clothes--every stitch--& climbed up over the
cubicle & jumped down on the middle of the Delta
girls' table, scattering them like a covey of quail!!  Oh
what a man!!  You see, in Mississippi, we always like to
see our men do the right thing..