Morals and Fleas in Heavener
Way back there during the Great Depression, I had a close relative I really
liked. But nearly everyone liked Jerb Wilson. Jerb is an alias because,
for good reason, I don't want to reveal his real name.
Jerb was a womanizer. He chased women. The people of the community knew
about Jerb and his escapades even tho' we didn't have a nutty special prosecutor
to delve into these matters
We also didn't have mass media go into a frenzy over allegations of illicit
sexual escapades. We didn't have tasteless jerks like Jay Leno and David
Letterman polluting the airways night after night over such matters.
But the people of Heavener, Okla., knew, or suspected, what was going on.
They knew, or had heard, about Jerb trading a good-looking Gypsy lady a
used tire for some special favors. They also noticed that he started buying
and stockpiling used tires.
But old Jerb, although fairly young and apparently healthy, suddenly suffered
a massive disabling stroke. I'm talking the wheelchair kind.
One day, several weeks later, a busybody old biddy (also kinfolk) was talking
to my dad about Jerb's sad situation.
"Sam," she said, "I know why Jerb had that stroke."
"What do you mean, you know why Jerb had that terrible thing happen
to him?" dad asked.
"The Lord brought that punishment on him for his womanizing and philandering,"
"I don't believe that, not one bit of it," dad said.
"Why don't you believe it?" the old busybody biddy asked.
"It ain't scriptural," said dad, "and if it was true, every
sumbitch you met on the street would be dragging one leg, including your
husband. And while we are on the subject, what about your fling with Hipshot
Smith? You haven't had a stroke."
You might guess what started me thinking about all this. It is what is now
going on in Washington and what Ken Starr and the media are trying to do
to my President.
If you believe like that old busybody biddy believed (the Lord punished
with strokes for chasing around), there is no way enough wheelchairs and
crutches could be supplied in Washington today.
I would bet the homestead that the House Chamber would have to accommodate
over 400 handicapped Congressmen. Also, all those hotshot news gatherers
couldn't possibly roll around to all the news conferences on time.
And some strokes are so bad that the victims can't talk.
Where would that leave the Congress and TV talking heads who are hitting
the President day after day for his alleged indiscretions?
I feel just like an old geezer I saw on TV the other day. He opined that
he didn't give a hoot what people did in private, whether gay or straight,
as long as they didn't do it on the street and scare the horses.
Leno and Letterman have thrown away all standards of decency. Wolf Blitzer
(Chief White House correspondent) and most others are also scaring the horses
if horses could understand the language.
They are saying things my dad, Sam Wilson, would have horsewhipped me over.
Well, old Jerb is gone and his pile of tires has long since been hauled
away. But another thing about Jerb I remember: He was a hound dog fancier.
He loved hound dogs and raised many of them.
May the fleas of the offspring of Jerb's hounds infest the armpits of the
Congressman, the media and late night so-called comedians.
Charlie Wilson is a former house painter, mayor, school board member
and retired merchant who operates a coffee bar in the Salvation Army shop
in Heavener, Okla.
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