look forward to the episode of Dallasnin which J.R. Ewing meets BeverlynInman-Ebel.nThe best solution for us all would benpluralism. Why should all radio announcersnsound as if they come fromnIowa? Why should Shakespeare soundnless strange in “standard American”nthan in a Southern accent that’s probablyncloser to the Elizabethan anyway?nBut if pluralism isn’t realistic—if non-nSoutherners continue to give Southernersna hard time about their accentsn—Southerners’ only alternative maynbe to take over. Then we could set upncourses to teach Yankees how to talknright.nLate News Flash: The Wall StreetnJournal reports that the Equal EmploymentnOpportunity Commission hasnprohibited “job discrimination becausenof a person’s accent or manner of speaking.”nThe story goes on to say that “annemployer must show a nondiscriminatorynreason for denying a job because ofna person’s foreign accent or manner ofnspeech.” I can hardly wait for the firstntest case.nJohn Shelton Reed is a diglossal professornof sociology at the University ofnNorth Carolina in Chapel Hill.nLetter From thenHeartlandnby fane GreernGovernment JerkynMy husband, a beef jerky afficionado,ntells me that C & I Jerky, Ltd. makesnsome of the best he’s ever tasted.nIleene Nodland and Cheryl Knutsonnproduce it themselves in DunnnCenter, North Dakota, which had 170nresidents during the 1980 census andnhas fewer now. Knutson started outnmaking her special venison jerky, andnthen the two neighbors began usingnone or the other’s kitchen: spicing thenmeat, drying it (originally in an oven,nlater in a dehydrator), cutting it intonstrips with scissors, and giving it tonfamily and friends. They perfectedntheir recipe, and people loved it.nThen they got the idea of making anlittle more and selling it—starting ansmall business that wouldn’t cut intonthe hours they spend working theirnranches with their husbands.n”We thought we’d probably need anlicense,” says Nodland. They called anlawyer, and he told them that sincenthere was no sales tax on such food innthe state and they wouldn’t need ansales tax license, they wouldn’t neednany other kind of license, either. Theyncalled another lawyer, and he toldnthem to call the State Health Department,nand they said to call the U.S.nDepartment of Agriculture—but thenman they needed to talk to was onnvacation. By that time they had decidednto just go ahead and sell some jerky.n”We figured that if we needed a license,nthey’d tell us and we’d get one,”nsays Nodland.nAll this happened in the summer ofn1984. In September of that year, afternKnutson and Nodland had aboutn$1,000 worth of jerky in 39 bars andnstores spread over several counties, anUSDA inspector called to say that theirnjerky was illegal because it hadn’t beenninspected or approved by the USDA.nNodland and Knutson met with himnand were told that they could get 10nyears and a $10,000 fine for sellingnjerky outside the law. “They said wencould give away all we wanted, but ifnwe sold just one stick to a neighbor, wenwould be breaking the law—and theynmade it clear that they would prosecute,”nsays Nodland. The two werentold to remove their jerky from thenestablishments that were selling it andnadvised that it would take fromn$50,000 to $100,000 to set themselvesnup in business correctly—figures thatnNodland says are pretty close to thentruth.nHere’s a short-form version of whatnC & I had to do, onee they decided tontake the plunge. First, they had to kissngoodbye all that companionable kitchennmanufacturing and build a plant tongovernment specs. Their building, finishednin January 1987 after two yearsnand a thousand miles of red tape, is 30nX 40 feet, and by law had to contain 11nsteel doors. The building also had toninclude a meat inspector’s office of atnleast 70 square feet; just to be on thensafe side, they gave him an extra twonsquare feet, which means that his officentakes up 6 percent of their floornspace. They had to put in a men’snbathroom for him, even though he’snthere for only a few hours a month.nnnand their only employee is a thirdnwoman. His office had to contain a filenand locker, both kept locked againstnNodland and Knutson, and a desk.n”We put in the locker,” Nodlandnsays, giggling a little, “and then onenday the inspector that was over himncame to inspect and told him thatnregulations say we also have to put upna coat hook, so he came and told us,nand we had to put one up. We’ve alsonhad the inspector over that inspectorn[i.e., the inspector’s inspector’s inspector],nand I understand that we maynsoon be paid a visit by his inspectorn[the inspector’s inspector’s inspector’sninspector].”nOne day the inspector told C & 1nthat they needed a rodent-proofingnplan. Nodland reminded him thatntheir foundation went down eight feetninto the ground, four more feet thannthe law required, and that Dunn Centernhad no rodent problem. He toldnher to draw up a plan showing wherenshe would put rodent traps. “He said Inhad to put an ‘x’ on the blueprintnwherever I would put a rodent trap,nand that I could never put a rodentntrap where I didn’t have an ‘x’ on thenblueprint. So I cover that blueprintnwith ‘x’s, trying to be safe. Then hentold me that I had too many traps onnit,” Nodland sighs.nC & I is usually open from 8:00na.m. to 10:00 p.m.; the hours aftern5:00 p.m. are spent cleaning up. Businessnis terrific, and Nodland wouldnlike to hire a second shift. “But,” shensays, “the law reads that if we’re actuallynprocessing the meat outside ofneight-to-five weekday hours, we havento pay the inspector ourselves for hisntime.” At $24 an hour, that couldnreally eat into their already small profits.nC & 1 hasn’t had to pay theninspector yet because they don’t do anynactual placing of jerky strips in jarsnafter 1,700 hours or on weekends ornfederal holidays.nThe meat they use has already beennapproved at the approved slaughterhouse,nbut “they also make us usenapproved products for everything connectednwith the processing, and thatnincludes paper products, like waxednpaper,” says Nodland. “We have to getna letter from the product manufacturernguaranteeing that the product isnUSDA-approved for use in food processing.nBut it’s very hard to find com-nSEPTEMBER 1987 I SIn