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Upon picking up that I am a direct descendant of Lord Num Num, the peaceable ruler of Sugar Rainbow Kingdom that survives in an encrusted sock under my bed, I’m oft asked about the pridefulness I must feel.

But I don’t see pride. I don’t even realize it.

I don’t get gay pride. I don’t get black pride. And I hate parades, whether they be Puerto Rican, Irish or those guys in the funny red motorcars and silly hats.

Honestly, I cannot be gallant of anything - whether it’s my inheritance or my third pap - that I held nothing to do with.

I only convey this up because a grouping of Southerners are provision to wing the big Confederate flag of all time, over a Florida interstate.

They say it’s to keep something. But what? Defeat?

I mean, I love the South; I’d feed a briefcase if it was chicken-fried and I’d still do Minnie Pearl, even in her current state.

But wherefore should a grouping pick the most debatable emblem of their past to correspond their inheritance? Pick something we all love about the South. Wherefore not the world’s big wad of manduction tobacco? A “Hee Haw” waterslide? A pickup truck truck made of porc?

Either way, it’s existed 150 eld - move-on-dot-org, folk.

See to me, it’s like silly sports fans being gallant of their favorite team as though its accomplishments mirror theirs. Look, my favorite team of all time is the 49ers. Who can bury that instant when Joe Stabler accomplished that touchdown pass to Dwight Craig to acquire the 1988 Super Bowl against the Buccaneers? It was really magical, but I had got nothing to do with it.

And if you differ with me, then you Sir are worsened than Hitler.

Greg Gutfeld hosts “Red Eye with Greg Gutfeld” weekdays at 3 a.m. ET. Direct your comments to:
redeye flight@foxnews.com