I spent most of my formative years in northern Utah, and when I first saw the movie, Napoleon Dynamite, it felt like a documentary of my childhood, right down to the chicken farms and the 4-H.
Just to clarify, I did watch it again and thought it was hilarious once I got over the trauma of seeing a tetherball again. But most of all, I loved the “Heck no” phrase, which you can still find in abundance in this region.
In fact, I am surprised there is no college major offered in hecknology, after which you can become a hecknologist. Or a hecknocrat, you can choose.
Hecknically, it’s a phrase that elevates no to NO, all the while avoiding profanity, so as not to offend. And it takes a certain savoir faire, a certain cool polish to speak it correctly (if in doubt, you could call a hecknician to speak for you if you can’t get anyone to offer hecknical support).
Indeed, not to fall back on a hecknicality, but not everyone has the hecknicological talent for it, nor the hecknique. Sure, you can dance to heckno music, but using it in conversation could make you look like a heckojunkie from questionable hecknography.
No, it seems only those with real roots in southern Idaho or northern Utah can claim membership in this hecknocracy; only we can engage in hecknicolor hecknobabble. I suppose tutoring could help erase your hecknofear, but would you ever become a hecknomaniac? Heck no.
However, you may console yourself by purchasing my books and reading them to your heart’s content. That’s a heckuva way to spend an afternoon.