Life in the time of the Corona® brand viral contagion finds all manner of Quaran-Teamed™ musicians plying their craft on the social media and we're of a mind to share one of our own, compliments of none other than Mayberry RFD's late Briscoe "Darling" Dillard Jr. and his band of misfit offspring, the Dillard boys. Though not official residents of the town proper, all were welcomed by the venerable Sheriff Andrew "Ange" Taylor with open arms and C chords. Unlike nowadays when every cleavaged chart-topper and bearded ukulele strummer has a Twitternet™ channel, action figure doll or toilet water deal, the motherless Dillards — Bocephus, Bojangles, Bodean and Bobice — were happy to let the music do the talkin' — with their sweet-as-plum-pie sister Charlene chimin' in with the rest. Their doltish appearance and homespun humility has always belied their prowess and I’ll never adequately repay their nod to Yours Truly — "Dooley" — in their mountain hymnal of the same name. The "young failers" from the hill country are all grown up now, just a-grinnin' and a-pickin' to beat the bloody bland. An overdue doff of the floppy brim — and a toot on the empty moonshine jug — to these able Citizen Appalachians™. “Dooley slippin' up the holler / Dooley tryin' to make a dollar / Dooley give me a swaller / I'll pay you back some day.” Brilliantine™!
