Ruckus finds his musical soul mate in famed racist country singer, Jimmy Rebel.
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♪ I am the stone that
the builder refused ♪
♪ I am the visual, the inspiration
that made lady sing the blues ♪
♪ I'm the spark that
makes your idea bright ♪
♪ the same spark that
lights the dark ♪
♪ so that you can know your
left from your right ♪
♪ I am the ballot in your box,
the bullet in the gun ♪
♪ the inner glow that lets you
know to call your brother son ♪
♪ the story that just begun ♪
♪ the promise of what's to come ♪
♪ and I'ma remain a soldier
till the war is won ♪
♪ chop chop chop ♪
♪ judo flip ♪
♪ chop chop chop ♪
♪ judo flip ♪
You ready, son?
Ready as I'm gonna be, I guess.
Just believe in the music, son.
Ladies and gents, we got a real
special treat for y'all tonight.
Let's give a big 'ol [bleep] kicker's
welcome to Jimmy Rebel!
How y'all doin'?
Uh, how y'all doin'?
How are you?
My name's Jimmy Rebel.
This first number's a song I wrote.
It's very near and dear to
me, and it's about nigg*rs.
A-one, a-two.
A-one, two, three.
♪ Step back, silverback ♪
♪ hold on, blackie ♪
♪ steal some gas for your Cadillac-y ♪
♪ head downtown with
them coons and clowns ♪
♪ just stay away from me ♪
♪ laquita, shenita, and Jamaal ♪
♪ orangelo, mangelo, and Tylenol ♪
♪ grab an orange sod-y
and a basketball ♪
♪ just leave my daughter be ♪
♪ keep to yourself ♪
♪ stay away from mine ♪
♪ open your eyes and mouth ♪
♪ so I can see you shine ♪
♪ open up your nose ♪
♪ put in a fresh bone ♪
♪ just leave my snow-driven beauty ♪
♪ Caucasian cutie ♪
♪ pure, demure, and
classically snooty ♪
♪ sweet white daughter alone ♪
♪ nigge-r-r-r ♪
Ruckus, look.
Woo, baby! Wow!
C'mon, ruckus, hurry up, look!
♪ porch monkey ♪
♪ no free rides, darky ♪
♪ coon lips ♪
Ruckus.
♪ jigaboo-woo-woo ♪
Ruckus!
What, what,
what, what, what?
What are
you listening to?
Only the greatest
country-western and racist
singer to ever breathe into a
microphone -- Mr. Jimmy Rebel.
Go on -- listen, listen.
What did he just say?
Oh, my God.
Uh-huh. See that?
That's nice, ain't it?
That son of a bitch!
Get this bull [bleep] out of here!
That's just sick!
What you sayin'?
His music is responsible for the
man you see before you today.
He inspired my love for racist music.
You know, sometimes I write
my own racist songs.
I think they're pretty good, too.
Well,
keep 'em to yourself.
Nobody want to hear that [bleep]
You black fool.
Oh, yeah?
Just 'cause you said that, I'm
gonna go home and record 'em!
So there!
Fine, then
get the [bleep] on!
I will!
Fine!
Fine!
Fine!
Soon as we finish this game.
I think it's your move.
Dear Mr. Jimmy Rebel...
I hope this letter finds you in
good health and spirits.
My name is Uncle ruckus, no
relation, and I am first and
foremost a lover of beautiful music.
I proudly play your music while at
work at one of my many, many jobs.
It always elicits a response.
Shut off that [bleep] damn
[bleep] you fat racist [bleep]
Please find enclosed the song
"keep them nigg*s outta nascar."
It was inspired by all of the nigg*s
I hope we can keep out of nascar.
♪ Tennis been took over
by the dark side ♪
♪ golf has a black
smudge on its face ♪
♪ baseball ain't been the same
since coons came into the game ♪
♪ stealing everything,
including second base ♪
♪ that extra bone in they
leg is right for running ♪
♪ jumpin' like a monkey and
hurdlin' high and far ♪
♪ let 'em run and jump and skip
and do the pickaninny flip ♪
♪ but keep their black
hands off of my nascar ♪
♪ please keep them
nigg*s outta nascar ♪
♪ we don't need no hoopties
in the danger zone ♪
♪ nigg*s don't carjack
my darlin' nascar... ♪
I like it.
♪ ...It's the last great
thing a white man can call his own... ♪
got a good beat.
♪ ...Last great thing
a white man can call his own ♪
Good morning, Mr.
White man, sir.
How can I --
Excuse me, I'm, uh, lookin'
for the residence of Mr.
Uncle ruckus.
Y-y-you lookin' -- you said
you lookin' f-f-for, uh, for Uncle --
you know him?
Well, thank God.
I been driving around forever.
Well, this, uh...
...This is the place.
Oh, well, is Mr. ruckus home?
He's not expecting me.
This is kind of a surprise.
My name is Jimmy Rebel.
I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!
I am your biggest fan!
I can't believe it!
Well, I can't believe it, either.
I never met a...
Black who liked my music.
Oh, wait.
Oh, my God.
You're not -- no, you can't be --
Uh, uh, no, no, sir!
No, sir, I am not Uncle ruckus, sir.
Phew!
I was gonna say, man...
Yeah, yeah, that -- that
would be crazy, wouldn't it?
That'd be weird.
Yeah, well, no, sir.
No, sir, uh -- my name is,
uh -- my name is Toby.
I'm Mr.
Ruckus's loyal manservant.
No, sir.
Uncle ruckus is a true-blue,
red-blooded, American white man.
Well, if Mr. ruckus isn't too
busy, I'd like to speak to him.
Now, I know that Uncle ruckus
would really love to speak with you,
Mr. Jimmy Rebel, sir, but,
uh, well, he's not here.
Oh, well, this was the return
address on the tape he sent up.
Oh, no, no, no.
See, Uncle ruckus --
he don't live here.
This -- this here is my place.
No, sir, Mr. ruckus -- he got
him a proper white-folks house.
Uh, we just use this here address,
you know, for the death
threats and the mail
bombs, stuff like that.
Oh, yeah, yeah, I know
all about that stuff.
Well, listen, if you wouldn't
mind giving me his address or
maybe just call him, and, uh, see
if it's all right if I stop by?
Oh, yes, sir, I-I
would do that, sir, but, uh,
well, unfortunately, uh...
Uh, Mr. Uncle ruckus, you see,
he is -- he's very, very sick.
He caught the, uh, the
nigerian very contagious.
As if they Internet scams and
underwear bombs wasn't bad enough.
Damn nigerians.
Mm, well, that is just tragic.
I do know that Mr.
Ruckus, he be very mad at me
if I didn't offer you a cold
drink after coming all this way.
Thank you, Toby, but, uh,
well, it's gettin' late.
Uh, mis-- Mr.
Rebel, sir... Yes, Toby?
I just wanted to say,
sir, that a lot of people can
talk bad about darkies, but you make
art that talks bad about darkies.
Well, hell, Toby, aw, why don't
you go ahead and fix me that drink?
Yes, sir, Mr. Rebel, sir!
Oh, by the way, have you
ever heard of re-vitiligo?
Oh, Mr. Rebel!
You know, all these years, I
been singing about nigg*rs, I
probably only done had a conversation
with five of 'em at the most.
Are there any others like you?
Oh, absolutely not.
No, sir.
There ain't one good nigg*r
ever stepped foot on this
earth, 'cept maybe Alan keyes or
that nigg* that shot Malcolm x.
You are a funny guy.
Well...
I should be gettin' back to the hotel.
Hey, I'll leave you my number.
Maybe he'll be feeling
better tomorrow.
Uh, well,
we'll see, we'll see.
But you should come by, anyway.
I, uh, I-I be happy to
show you around the town.
Oh, sure thing, Toby.
You got my number.
Ruckus? Ruckus?
Ruckus!
Robert, have you ever
met somebody who seemed to like
you but it's only because
they don't know the real you?
Yeah, that's pretty
much every woman I've ever dated.
So you met someone, huh?
Oh, yeah, yes, I did,
Robert -- somebody very special.
But I don't know if -- if it's
all a lie, how far can it go?
Well, how big is the lie?
Well, uh, I'm
supposed to be a white man.
Without re-vitiligo.
You know what, Robert?
You and everybody
who live in your household.
Okay, whitey.
Good mornin', Mr.
Rebel!
Uh, I talked to Uncle
ruckus for a second.
Poor guy could barely
lift up the telephone.
He said he can't talk today,
but I'm under direct orders to
show you the best day
woodcrest can offer.
Shoot, why not?
Hop in, Toby, let's go!
♪ I love you like coons love chicken ♪
♪ I love you like jews
love penny-pinchin' ♪
♪ I love you like o.J.
Love white women ♪
♪ I love you like gooks
love communism ♪
♪ I love you like
nigg*rs love welfare ♪
♪ I love you like black girls
love to wear fake hair ♪
♪ I love you like chinks
love math and sneakin' ♪
♪ I love you like jungle
bunnies love sleepin' ♪
♪ well, buddy, can't you see ♪
♪ you're all right with me ♪
♪ you're a man's man ♪
♪ You're all right with me ♪
♪ you're a man's man ♪
Well, Toby, this has
been one amazing day.
Oh, the world needs more
white men like you, Jimmy Rebel.
America gettin' soft on nigg*s.
Hell, they even elected one president!
I bet that's got to burn you up.
Yeah, you know, a lot of
people think, you know, that I
spend all day just angry at negroes.
Lord knows I do.
But it's hard to
be angry, you know?
I mean, don't get me wrong -- I
believe in white rights and all
that, but overall I'm
a pretty happy fella.
You know what the liberals and the n.
A.A.C.P. Never could figure out?
It's not about the
color of a man's skin.
It's not the big lips or how y'all
say "ar-ruh" instead of "r."
Or the fact they wear
they ass on they shoulders.
Right!
It's the attitude, stupid.
A feller can't control what color he
is, but he can control his attitude.
If all blacks acted like you,
Toby -- if they worked hard and
stopped complaining about every
Damn thing, then we
wouldn't have no problem
with 'em at all.
Well, I better be gettin' on.
But it's still early.
We can -- we can watch "amistad"
again.
I can make you some
s'mores or something.
Nah, you've been too kind.
I've got a flight back to
spokenhoke tomorrow night.
Anyway, you think it'd be possible to talk to Mr.
Ruckus before I leave?
Well, you
can always tell me.
I'll pass the message along.
Well, it relates to business, so
I'd prefer to tell him directly.
I think it's somethin'
he'll want to hear.
Y-yes, sir. Yes, sir.
I'll, uh, I'll do my best.
Okay, well, guess
I'll be takin' off.
Well, you
have a good night, sir.
Robert, Robert,
Robert, I'm desperate!
I can't keep up this charade no more.
He about to leave!
Well, you should have thought
about that before you stood me up.
"He"?!
Jimmy Rebel!
Wait -- you
mean the racist singer?
That's the "special person"
you've been seeing?
You got sugar in your boots?
Wait, wait,
wait a minute now, Robert!
This ain't about no fa*ggotry.
You see, I sent him my music,
and he liked it so much he came
out here to meet me, but I told
him the real Uncle ruckus was a
white man and that I'm his
faithful manservant, Toby.
Damn it,
Robert, this is serious!
Robert, he want to talk
to the real Uncle ruckus!
I think it's got something
to do with my music.
Ruckus, this is the
silliest [bleep] I've ever heard.
Why would I want to
help you with this?
I have dreams
just like everybody else.
I want to make beautiful,
beautiful racist music for the
world of white people to enjoy,
and this is my only shot.
Now, you and I both know I hate
darkies -- lord knows I do!
But I am not afraid to say,
Robert Freeman, that I hate you
a lot less than I hate the others.
Oh, my God! He's here!
Okay, hurry up, hurry up.
Get in your room, get in your room!
Don't forget -- you a white man
and you got nigerian monkeypox!
You got to go.
You got to go.
Baboon-bama.
Steady, ruckus. Steady.
Well, hey, there, Toby!
How's our patient?
Very sick
and still contagious.
But he insisted you come
over and talk to him today.
Uh, please...
Uh, uh, m-m-mr. Ruckus?
Uh, Mr.
Rebel is here to see you.
Oh, hello, there, uh, partner.
Mr. ruckus, I don't want to
take up too much of your time.
I just wanted to say you're
one heck of a songwriter and,
uh, not a bad singer, either.
Well, uh, from
one white man to another...
Thank you kindly.
You know, a lot of times with
our kind of music, people get so
caught up in the hate part of
it, but I can definitely hear
the love in your music.
Well, master
ruckus -- he love hatin'
nigg*s.
Ain't that right, master ruckus?
Oh, yeah, I
hate african-americans.
Oh, go ahead, tell him how
much you hate them nigg*s, master ruckus.
Oh, well, uh, uh...
If hating people of African
descent is wrong...
...I don't want to be right.
See?
With your permission, I'd
like to record your song.
And I'd like for you to come to
spokenhoke with me and record
an album together.
Well, uh, that sounds great.
Let's make some good ol'
racist music together.
Well, sir, I want you to rest
up and get better, so I'm gonna
go ahead and get out of your hair.
I went ahead and brought you a
present -- hope you don't mind.
These are autographed copies
of my albums, "coonsville"...
Hey!
..."Welfare queen and
Cadillac king," "help me, I'm
surrounded by coons," "don't let your
nigglets grow up to be nigg*rs"...
..."I almost N.A.A.C.
-peed myself," "spooks of Hazzard,"
"black toes and ghettos."
What the -- >>
"how 'bout those crack babies?"
"nigg*r, stay
out of my wife."
And "nigg*rs don't die.
They just smell that way."
Aw [bleep] this [bleep]
Okay, that's enough.
Get the [bleep] out of my house.
What the hell?!
Get out of my way!
Robert, no!
Toby, who is this?
Get this redneck
son of a bitch out of my house!
What the hell's goin' on?!
Oh, lord!
The nigerian monkeypox done
turned him full-blown nigerian!
Get away from him, Mr. Rebel!
Bye, honky!
What the hell is goin' on?!
Who was that?!
Oh!
Oh, I can't keep this up no more!
It's a charade wrapped in a
facade covered in a lie!
I am Uncle ruckus!
When I sent you them songs, I
never in my wildest dreams
thought we would ever meet.
I knew that you thought Uncle
ruckus was a handsome,
strong, Clint eastwood-type white man.
Oh, curse this re-vitiligo!
It's okay, ruckus.
I know.
Somehow...I've always known.
And, damn it, I don't care.
It's about the music, ain't it?
Mr. Rebel, do you mean...
Uncle ruckus, you're going to
spokenhoke.
Welcome to spokenhoke,
jewel of the South.
Our business model is based
arnd what we like to call the
"hardcore racist" demographic.
Now, that's an audience that pretty much
stays consistent from year to year.
Hey, there, Tim, Casey.
Plus, we do our own distribution
and cut out the jews, so we do
all right for ourselves.
Okay, gang, as you know, I left
a few days ago to meet the
feller who sent me that amazing song.
Well, I found him.
Everyone, meet Uncle ruckus.
Uh, hey there, good white folks.
How y'all doing?
He's a negro who hates nigg*rs,
and I want to do an album with him.
♪ Hey, jigger boo, nigg*r
boo, colored coonie ♪
♪ black porch
monkey, brown baboonie ♪
♪ melon muncher,
chicken-bone sucker ♪
♪ blue-black,
silverback, big spearchucker ♪
♪ any way you figure ♪
♪ the president's a nigg*r to me ♪
That's good.
Hey, listen, let --
let me take this one.
Sing it, ruckus!
♪ charcoal, brown
bread, jungle bunny ♪
♪ ghetto guru, government honey ♪
♪ chocolate
cricket, spooky nigglet ♪
♪ cocoa, negro ♪
♪ magpie, black crow ♪
♪ any way you figure ♪
♪ the president's a nigg*r to me ♪
Lord, I could
sing "nigg*r" all day long.
Hey, there!
You've reached Uncle ruckus.
White folks, leave a message.
Black folks, leave town.
Hey, ruckus.
Hey, the woodcrest checkers
tournament is coming up.
I was wondering when you gonna
be back in town, if those
crackers ain't lynched
your black ass yet.
Look, call me back, okay?
All right. Bye.
You all right?
Yeah, it's just
-- I think I miss ruckus.
Does that mean there's
something wrong with me?
Yeah.
And it's gay.
♪ The president's a nigg*r to
me ♪
Oh, I love these songs, gang!
Sir, in all honesty, I
think this will ruin us.
You guys really think so?
Well, we are called
"racist records," Jimmy.
I think the public
expects racism from us.
Or at least segregation.
Ruckus is more of a racist than anyone
in this room -- and that includes me.
Look, Mr.
Rebel, I-I think they might be right.
No, come on now.
Beneath your skin, you're
as white as any white man.
And I'm goin' to prove it to you.
Tonight, I'm doing the new
stuff at [bleep] kicker's, and
I want you to come with me.
You mean, like,
to drive you there?
No!
I mean on stage!
We're gonna perform together!
Oh, no, no, no, no, m-m-mr.
Rebel, I-I don't think I'm ready for --
oh, yes, you are!
You got to believe in the music.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
You know, my career started here, more
decades ago than I care to remember.
So it also feels right that,
uh, this be the place where my
career makes a new beginning.
For the first time in my career,
I've teamed up with another
musician, and this is
something we wrote together.
It's called, "one good nigg*r."
There ain't no such thing!
♪ Well, we know nigg*rs commit
crimes and fill up our jails ♪
♪ too lazy and shiftless
to do for themselves ♪
♪ and when they lose in life, well,
they wanna blame you and me ♪
♪ well, there's nigg*rs who lie ♪
♪ nigg*rs who steal ♪
♪ nigg*rs who rap and put
rims on their wheels ♪
♪ and nigg*rs who act
like coons on tv ♪
♪ Well, but just the other day,
during a blizzard in hell ♪
♪ I met a colored fella, and
as far as I could tell ♪
♪ inside, he had a white
man's integrity ♪
How 'bout that?
♪ Well, he had a few
jobs, not just one ♪
♪ he worked all day
till the day was done ♪
♪ he loved his country ♪
♪ and I thought, "well, I'll be!
" ♪
♪ I met one good nigg*r ♪
♪ he ain't want nothing free ♪
♪ I met one good nigg*r ♪
♪ so y'all just let him be ♪
♪ and a nigg*r like him ♪
♪ I'll never meet again ♪
♪ but one is all I need ♪
well, ladies and gentlemen, I
want you to meet my new musical
partner and close personal friend.
Uncle ruus, come on out here, buddy!
Uncle ruckus?
Come on out here, nigg*r!
What the...
Just what in the [bleep]
Get that nigg*r off the stage!
Give him a chance!
Give him a chance?
Well, you probably gave
barack Obama a chance, too!
You sing with nigg*rs, you
probably voted for one!
No, I didn't!
Mr. Rebel, no!
Mr. Rebel, careful!
Get that nigg*r!
Man, that was fun!
But, Mr.
Rebel, I mean, what you gonna do?
Your career?
You remember when I said how we hate
the blacks because of their attitudes?
Yeah.
Well, I think that's
a load of [bleep]
You're just like one of us,
ruckus, but they still hate you.
And it's not your attitude.
It's 'cause you're black.
And know what else I realized?
Most rednecks are really [bleep]
Stupid, and I mean
really [bleep] stupid.
I've made some of the best music
of my life with you, ruckus.
And I don't intend to stop.
I'm sorry, Mr. Rebel.
But I can't make music
with you no more.
Because... because you are not
the racist I thought you were.
Ruckus! Wait a minute!
Come back here!
Forget you ever knew me!
Hmph.
Uh...
You want to play a game?
I'm waiting for someone.
Oh.
Ah, okay, you
can play till he shows up.
So, how did it go in spokenhoke?
Oh, it was
-- It went --
I-I should have listened to you.
Ruckus.
I'm sorry, Mr. Rebel.
I didn't mean what I said before.
I just couldn't stand to watch you
throw everything away just for me.
Ruckus, you were right.
I'm just not the racist I used to be.
It's time for me to move on.
Oh, no, Mr. Rebel.
Your voice is too
important for the world.
I can't be responsible for
you giving up singing!
I'm not gonna give up singin'.
I just want to sing about
something other than nigg*rs.
Well, if we ain't
gonna be singing about no
nigg*s, what are we
gonna be singin' about?
There's so many other
things to make music about.
There's friends and good times,
beer, love -- all kinds of [bleep]
♪ send the
beaners back down to Mexico ♪
♪ send the beaners
back down to Mexico ♪
♪ send the beaners
back down to Mexico ♪
♪ where they come fro-o-o-m ♪
Adios, burritos!
Hasta Los huevos!
Oh, lord.
Mexicans...
