The View From Up the Holler
I’m gonna do it anyway. Being as I’m
just a West Virginia boy, and mostly barefoot, and don’t have much sense, a lot
of folk say, maybe I shouldn’t be explaining the world. But the world don’t
make even as much sense as I do, so guess I’ll stick my fork in.
Sometimes
I go up the holler here to see my old school teacher, whose name is Entropy
McWilliams, and we look at stuff on his internet. For a while it’s been mostly
about people with their innards in a uproar in Minneapolis, which I think is in
either California or Alaska.
It’s hard to figure. We saw all these
people busting up store windows because they want Social Justice, which I guess
they keep in stores in Minneapolis. If they did that here they could find social justice real
fast. It’s what a rope is for. But they was whooping and hollering like
it was the Reverend McBilly Osfeiser’s Last Best Jesus Revival and Donut Social
that comes every year to get Granny’s Social Security. Anyway, the people
busting store windows say that ruining stores will help black folks who live
there. Well, maybe, but I figure noddy but a damn fool is going to bring back a
store to get looted again. So where’s the black folks going to buy stuff?
Everybody that’s got money or the brains that god give a retard possum is going
to go somewhere else to live. And then these dim lights want to get rid of the
po-lice, so thieving rascals can look easier in stores for that social justice.
It looks to me like they
can’t tell the difference between social justice and a TV set.
I reckon about one feller with
a twelve gauge could cure the whole mess in five minutes or ten rounds,
whichever ran out first, but can’t nobody understand flatlanders.
Next I
found this mush-headed sounding woman, or sort of woman, you can’t tell these
days, with one of them double-barrel names, I think it was Ophelia
Lagrangian-Peritonitis or something. Anyway, she was squalling about Cultural
Appropriation. I get nervous around big words like that, but Mr. McWilliams
explained it to me. It sounds better, he said, than appropriating a TV set out
of somebody else’s store. Still, it makes as much sense as lug nuts on a
birthday cake.
It means
if it’s Halloween and you go as a red injun, maybe with a tomahawk and some
plastic scalps from the Dollar Store, you hate injuns and want to rob them and
stomp them down and I don’t know what all. How much sense does that make? I bet
if you went as Bugs Bunny, some goddam rabbit lobby would sue, probably with
Ms. Lagrangian-Peritonitis honking on about it. You can’t do anything that any
other kind of people has done before without you have to listen to these
scoundrels.
If some
people can’t go as Bugs Bunny, then nobody can’t go as anything. Fair is fair.
So if you little sister goes as Aunt Jemima that makes pancakes, the BLM bandits
will try to lynch her.
I reckon black folks ought to be a
little quieter. Since they didn’t invent writing, or reading, or ‘rithmetic or
electricity or clothes or pretty much anything, then any time they use them
things they’re doing Cultural Appropriation. It’s just common sense.
Of course, I guess a Chinaman could say
whites do it too when they use paper and gunpowder, without the which we
couldn’t have bombs and rockets and federal forms nine pages long that no one
since Adam can figure out.
Now, what
I think is, charging blacks and injuns and all for every white invention they
use, one at a time would be a motimgator long job and use more paper than
eating a McDonald’s hamburger. It could lead to enough of what that Wall Street
newspaper calls crossed licensing, Mr. McWilliams said, and he knows
everything, to keep a whole rat pack of lawyers in business forever instead of
drowning them, that would be better. I mean, you could charge a nickel every
time Lateesha or Deewan or Lasagna read a book, which might bring in twelve
dollars a year, or used a Smith and Wesson, for whole boxcars of dollars.
Probably the easy thing would be to rent the whole damn civilization with only
one license, like driving a car.
I reckon
we’d haul in enough money to buy enough rockets to blow up a thousand weddings
and little children in Afghanistan and Eye-ran and maybe some kindergartner
kids in Venezuela, wherever that is. Then they’d all have American values and
love us.
But we
got other news to gnaw on. I keep reading about this gal Rachel Tension and how
she’s causing all kinds of bile along with Oprah. I don’t know about Rachel but
Oprah’s gone all skinny on us and I reckon it makes her want to make more fuss
about whatever she’s thinking about. Oprah used to be all porked up and looked
like three hundred pounds of fatback with legs and if you’d had a oil well you
wanted to shut down you could have used her for a plug. I hear there’s less
Oprah now, though. Which is about how much I can use.
Anyhow,
she’s running on these days about how white people is criminals and brutes and
they need to get in touch with what they’re feeling, that might mean their
girlfriend or I don’t know what, but she don’t like them. White people, I mean.
Well, I guess. But I figure when she’s yowling into a microphone that probably
Abraham Lincoln or Moses or somebody invented, it’s that Cultural Appropriation
again and she owes money. I mean, without that microphone shed have to go back
to smoke signals or drums.
Anyway,
women are taking over everything, most of them crazy. Along with Rachel Tension
and Oprah, we’ve got that Clinton woman that’s even older than Ann Coulter and
probably sleeps all day in some cave, hanging by her toes, and Elizabeth Warren,
that used to be a Injun but cured it with a shot of DNA. And now we’ve got Joe
Biden, who ain’t nothing but a titless Hillary on days when he can remember who
he is, and pretty much nothing at all the rest of the time. Which might be a
good reason to vote for him. We’ve had a long string of Presidents who did know
who they were, and it ain’t been real satisfactory.
Finally
the world‘ s gone soft in the head, like Aunt Minnie that granddad used to keep
in the attic. I just saw where Walt Disney, that I thought was dead but anyway,
he’s going to make a movie about Peter Pan and he want’s Mike Tyson to be
Tinker Belle. She´s kind of like a lightening bug in a little green dress and
throws sparks everywhere. Now if I remember right, Tyson weighs about two-forty
buck nekkid and holding a helium balloon so it’s hard to imagine him twinkling
around in the air and flashing like a fifty cent flashlight with a loose
switch, but I don’t know much about movies. Anyway there was this woman, I
think her name was Lupita Marimacha or anyway some Meskin thing, that talked
for Mr. Disney, that I thought was dead. She said these times are progressive,
which I think means soft in the head, and we can’t be heteronormative or
chromapejorative and we had to be gender fluid. I saw it in the newspaper or I
couldn’t spell it. I wasn’t sure what kind of gender fluid she meant but I knew
I didn’t want to think about it. I guess it means we´ll have to watch Mike
Tyson flying around in some kind of girly clothes, which is all right on a girl
but I worry about them on Mike, and maybe it worries him too.
Well,
that’s about all the news I can stand in one day. I’m gonna get my girlfriend
Jiffy Lube, that’s real name is Jennifer Imidazole Fergweiler but we call her
Jiffy Lube because, well, she’s real friendly, and we’ll get a Mason jar of
that busthead shine Uncle Hant makes back in the mountains and just lie on our
back and watch the buzzards looking for something dead.
Write
Fred at jet.possum@gmail.com .
Put the letters pdq anywhere in the subject line so Google don’t disappear your
letter.
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