often happens in monumental upheavals, the lives of individuals as well as nations take dramatic turns.
For example, Al Jolson, while singing "Mammy" in a minstrel show in Biloxi, was arrested under the Fugitive Slave Act by John Wilkes Booth the 3rd, and returned to his rightful owner, a rabbi in the Bronx.
Incidentally, John Wilkes Booth the 3rd was shot shortly after that by Dred Scott the 4th.
In more recent times, the Mormon Bigamists of Utah attacked the Godless Opportunists of Nevada for complete control of casino gambling in that neck of the woods.
In 1972, after a geological survey made sure no oil was to be found there, the United Nations of North America voted the newly freed African slaves their own homeland. The Cherokee Indian Reservation on which it was to be located would forever be known as New Liberia. Details of the response of the ungrateful Cherokee people to this act of generosity are too depressing to dwell on at this particular time.
It's hard to say exactly what caused all the disparate states to reunite. But they did. Was it the Red Menace? The Yellow Peril? The Riders of the Purple Sage? Who's to say? Most likely it was the fear of a massive seaborne invasion of the North American continent by the Rice Farmers of North Vietnam.
The miraculous reunification of the states in response to imminent danger inspired a radiant period of reconciliation, unity, and brotherhood. It lasted for almost three weeks.
Some things didn't change-the Purple Mountain's Majesty, the Amber Waves of Grain. However, the Fruited Plain was now the name of the only completely gay state in the Union.
Amazingly, I believe that if all of the above historic events had actually happened, by now our national deficit would have reached monstrous proportions-our education system would be a disgrace; our bridges and infrastructure would be in shambles; drugs, crime, racism, and homelessness would be rampant in our streets; aimless youths would become mindless predators; and-most important of all-I would still be two months behind on my car payments.
"How can I hurt thee
Let me count the ways"
THE ONE-LEGGED BEEKEEPER
Old Silas, the one-legged beekeeper, was not even aware that the Crusades were over. He did not have time to keep up with events so far away. Tending his hives and raising a daughter was all a feeble one-eyed cripple could manage.
One morning, when he and Amanda were working among the hives beside Mill Pond, they were suddenly confronted by a rogue knight in black armor on a huge charger.
"Away, old wreckage! It is the maid that I want and it is the maid I shall have!!" he roared, as he dismounted and strode towards Amanda.
His massive arms lifted her as they might a child. The beautiful young peasant girl's struggles were as nothing to Sir Mordred. Her scratching and beating against his armor only heightened his evil passion.
"No!" the helpless old Silas wailed, picking up a stick. "If only I were strong and this hive were that knave's head, I would teach him a lesson."
Thwack!
"But no, I am old and weak, and take my anger out on these hives."
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Hive after hive he smashed and pummelled.
Silas paid no mind to the swarms of bees he had lashed into a fury. Seeking revenge, the bees now fairly covered the netting that he, like all beekeepers, wore over hisbroad-brimmed hat. So thick were the swarms of enraged bees, that when he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he could barely make out the vague outline of a frenzied figure in black armor clanking at full speed towards the little stone bridge in the distance. When the knight reached the bridge, arms flailing left and right, surrounded by a roiling storm of infuriated bees, he threw himself over the wall and into the dark water.
Sir Mordred sank to the bottom of Mill Pond like a stone. The two thousand bees trapped inside his armor drowned about two minutes before he did.
During the Crusades, the chastity belt made it impossible for wives to fake orgasms while their husbands were recapturing the Holy Land.
THE NAIL
For the want of a nail, a shoe was lost.
For the want of a shoe, a horse was lost.
For the want of a horse, a knight was lost.
For the want of a knight, the war was lost.
For the want of a brain, we listen to this drivel.
HISTORY IS BUNK
Arnold Toynbee surely must have looked the other way when writing his masterful A Study of History.
His research, as we all now know, found that in 1353 Marco Polo brought spaghetti to Italy from the Orient. He also brought back a wondrous new discovery from China-gunpowder!
Why Toynbee would suppress the fact that, for the first seven years after Marco Polo's return, the Italians thought they were supposed to sprinkle the gunpowder on their spaghetti is beyond me.
For me, the "Age of Bronze" was between 15 and 19.
THE HONOR FARM
Warden Coots always made a point of greeting new prisoner arrivals at Allenwood so there would be no misunderstandings about how he ran things, and to explain, in no uncertain terms, what was expected of them.
This morning's new arrival was different. It was the crew from the television show, 60 Minutes. Cameramen, soundmen, lighting technicians, makeup artists, and correspondent Morley Safer himself.
Safer graciously introduced himself to Warden Coots and added, "Call me Morley, please, Warden Coots."
"Call me Bubba, Mr. Morley, please," said Warden Coots, "I want you to know it's an honor to welcome you to Allenwood Federal Prison. I watch you all the time. You're on Sunday, right? You know, Geraldo Rivera wanted to do his TV show here too. But he was mainly interested in transvestites, animal fuckers, and cross-dresssing stockbrokers. I turned him down even though we do have quite a few of those types here."
Safer was amused but not surprised, "Warden Bubba, what we'd like to do on this segment of 60 Minutes is sort of a 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous in Prison' piece. Many people have the perception that Wall Street crooks go to 'country club' prisons. You know, the Club Fed thing. So we'd like to find out just how many insider traders, stockbrokers, and savings and loan people you have here at Allenwood Federal Prison Camp."
"Well, we got our share, there's no doubt about that, more than our share if the truth be known, Mr. Morley. We got our doctors and lawyers too, plenty of 'em. We got senators, we got murderers, we got movie critics, and everything in between."