All the hillbillies sitting around the bar look up from their beer and whiskey, expecting to ese some pitiful Yanke from the north.

The bartender says, ‟You ain’t from around here, are ya?”

The guy says, ‟No, I am from Canada.”

‟Canada,” the bartender says, ‟what do you do in Canada?”

The guy says, ‟I am a taxidermist.”

The bartender says, ‟A taxidermist? What in the hell is a taxidermist? Do you drive a taxi?”

‟No,” says the Canadian ‟I don’t drive a taxi, I mount animals.”

The bartender grins and hollers, ‟It’s okay boys. He is one of us.”