A hillbilly went hunting one day in West Virginia and bagged three ducks. He put them in the bed of his pickup truck and was about to drive home when he was confronted
by an ornery game warden who didn’t like hillbillies. The game warden ordered the hillbilly to show his hunting license, and the hillbilly pulled out a valid West Virginia
hunting license. The game warden looked at the license, then reached over and picked up one of the ducks, sniffed its butt, and said, “This duck ain’t from West Virginia. This
is a Kentucky duck. You got a Kentucky hunting license, boy?” The hillbilly reached into his wallet and produced a Kentucky hunting license.
The game warden looked at it, then reached over and grabbed the second duck, sniffed its butt, and said, “This ain’t no Kentucky duck. This duck is from Tennessee.
You got a Tennessee license
?” The hillbilly reached into his wallet and produced a Tennessee license. The warden then reached over and picked up the third duck. “This duck’s from Virginia. You got a
Virginia hunting license?”
Again the hillbilly reached into his wallet and brought out a Virginia hunting license. The game warden was extremely frustrated at this point, and he yelled at the hillbilly,
“Just where the hell are you from?”
The hillbilly turned around, bent over, dropped his pants, and said, “You tell me, you’re the expert!”