A mulletant proves most dangerous when teaming up with like-minded fellows under a banner that attempts to capture a vague purpose (usu. through insignia pregnant with insecurity and/or a-historical chauvinism a.k.a. “emasculated lighter skinned--read: not darker than an undetermined standard unrelated to family trees and a promiscuous definition of European ancestry; not synonymous with “albino” or caused by “vitiligo”; usu. distinguishable from flu-like paleness; fluorescent glow may neither be achieved through clever use of foundation nor denied through indulgence in tanning goods or services--American mutt” power supremacists), not to be mistaken with any of the tightly organized (even militaristic) organizations bearing the coincidentally similar postfix “-ant.”
Alt-country and folk are okay, but they fail to capture the coveted attention of a key demographic: tween mulletants whose disposable income remains a mystery to most astute analysts of consumer behavior.
He's harmless. He talks a lot of trash, but he's just mad that his parents couldn't afford to move out of the neightborhood when the cash-strapped (but comparatevily more industrious and potentially mobile) immigrants started moving into town. He's a run-of-the-mill mulletant.