Charlie Wilson
The Heavener Anti-Militia Militia
Editor's Note: Charlie Wilson is a World War II combat veteran
who finally picked up his Bronze Star a couple years ago at the insistence
of his son. The elder Wilson is a former house painter, mayor, school board
member and recently retired merchant who operates a small coffee bar in
Heavener, Okla., and has acquired the monicker, "the Sage of Heavener."
This column originally was published in the Oklahoma Observer and
was picked up by some regional newspapers, which accounts for the update.
A heck of a lot of people who live in this area of our state (southeastern
Oklahoma) realize we hold early morning political discussions in the coffee
bar corner of my store. Some of these people come by to debate while others
drop by for coffee, even though we raised the price to a dime a cup, because
of inflation.
But what the people don't know, or realize, is that yet another para-militiary
group has grown out of these meetings.
Our para-militiary group started with only four of us -- an old Cavalry
veteran, a Navy man, an Air Force veteran and an ex-Marine. It has grown
into a formidable force of older guys. We have no officers, just non-coms
and privates.
What started the whole thing was these so-called militias, covertly traipsing
around in the mountains of Little Dixie and western Arkansas, to do our
federal government in if they didn't stop feeding hungry kids, welfare moms
and the homeless; kill every doctor who ever performed an abortion and start
praying in schools and stop taxing rich folks.
We are against this activity in our area so we organized what we call the
Heavener Anti-Militia Militia (HAMM). We felt we needed to do this in order
to have balance, and also in the interest of the peace and tranquility of
our people.
It hasn't been easy. We had to start with makeshift training equipment.
Their side bought up all those plastic G.I. Joes at Wal-Mart, using them
to show different field maneuvers and playing with them during R and R as
well as during bad weather.
Because the G.I. Joes were all bought up -- and a low budget -- we had to
improvise, so we used hickory nuts (locally called hickernuts) for the same
purpose.
In spite of sacrifice and hardship, our recruiting and training have gone
well.
Anyhow, we found (through infiltration) their group is composed of those
right-wing goofballs who say they want to protect us from our government.
Well, that is how our Heavener Anti-Militia Militia came into being. We
decided to protect our government from their militia.
We already have an air force, a squadron of stealth hang gliders cleverly
camouflaged sky blue on the bottom side. We also have a navy. Two of our
group stormed and occupied the submarine Batfish at Muskogee, thus cutting
off their Fort Smith-to-Catoosa supply route.
And what their militia didn't know is that HAMM also has some natural allies
in our forest.
We took a prisoner the other day, and it turned out he was their chaplain,
who had been trained by Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell. He came running
and screaming out of our forest. It seems a couple of our larger ticks had
swollered his belly button and another of his private parts and he panicked.
He acted like Bogart did when he got those leeches all over him and Hepburn
had to scrape them off.
We also captured a guy who thought he was a brigadier general. He had two
stars on his cap -- one on either side of his NRA lettering. We think he
came out of Arkansas because he had a funny-looking red hog for his shoulder
patch. He carried a bazooka on his gun rack and a bumper sticker which read,
"If you don't like logging, try using plastic for toilet paper."
Well, two in-house shrinks will evaluate our prisoners. They started unbrainwashing
them by pointing out -- and firmly insisting -- that the right is wrong,
the left is right and the middle is left on the outside.
We believe more progress can be made with these people if they are isolated
for a while and kept away from Rush Limbaugh, G. Gordon Liddy and Pat Robertson.
But, back to the progress of our anti-militia militia. We developed a land
mine we call the Dornan. It looks like a pile of horse manure.
Maybe I have said too much here and even given away some of our military
secrets (remember "loose lips sink ships" from WW II); but I am
a First-Amendment person and think the people have a right to know.
Anti-Militia Militia Update
"The humblest citizen in all the land, when clad in the armor of a
righteous cause, is stronger than all the hosts of errors."
I was really taken by those words by William Jennings Bryan, that great
American who was silver of tongue. That is the very reason I took on those
goofy militias over here in Little Dixie.
Knowing full well that I was the humblest citizen in all the land I also
knew (also full well) that these goofy militias were a host of errors. Also
knowing (full well) that ours was a righteous cause, we organized the Heavener
Anti Militia Militia (HAMM).
HAMM has had some successes and some failures so this update might help
the reader understand this complicated issue.
One disturbing thing has happened. A group of their wimpy fellow travelers
has sprung up right here in Heavener. They call themselves the Society to
Prevent Anti Militias (SPAM).
One of our group defected and joined this nutty group because of philosophical
reasons. He was a reader of a large Oklahoma City metropolitan newspaper
and went along with Jerry Falwell and Cal Thomas on the religious right
state sponsored prayer in the end zone issue.
HAMM has made a few mistakes. An American philosopher once said "Don't
look back, they might be gaining on you." We made the mistake of looking
back.
But another American philosopher once said "If you come to a fork in
the road, take it."
I couldn't find one HAMMster who believed that, so we plunged straight ahead.
As it turned out we did the right thing because we came up on a group of
lost writers. They knew they should have gone left but they veered right
and wound up hopelessly lost in the deep woods. They were so happy to see
another human that they immediately, on the spot, joined up with HAMM.
We call them the Pen is Mightier than the Sword group (PIMTTS) because of
their writing abilities and beliefs, so instead of finding myself up to
my tookus in alligators, things are looking up. They are not only armed
with pens but typewriters, computers and pencils.
This helped our cause because they (the lost writers) set off a media feeding
frenzy which has really helped. Maybe not a nationwide feeding frenzy but
some local nibbles took place and our membership jumped dramatically.
Well, out of my successes, two things have happened. I am not the humblest
citizen in all the land anymore and I am now making T-shirts with four old
hamsters clad in WWII uniforms in front of the flag (American). They (the
T-shirts) are going on the market nationwide, all two dozen of them.
The editor may not allow me to write this because it may look like a commercial
enterprise. Heck, that's what it is. Pray tell me what is wrong with producing
a T-shirt for $5.00 and selling it for $16.95. What could be more American
than that.
We are only going to send out two free T-shirts. One is going to the editor
of this publication (only if he promises to wear it to his early morning
coffee klatch). The other will go to a Cajun friend in Shreveport, La.,
named Herbert Henschidt. His first name is pronounced Abear and I would
rather attend an executive session of SPAM than pronounce that last name.
It's not that big of a deal anyhow, nobody knows him but me.
[Editor's Note: You can get the T-shirts by sending a check for $16.95,
made out to Charlie Wilson, care of this publication, while supplies last.
No other warranty expressed nor implied.]
Memorial Day
You can think what you want to, but I sometimes think that our country has
too many national holidays. I don't have a clue which ones I would eliminate
and when one comes along it sure feels good to have a day off. A day off
can be good if the time is used wisely.
This past Memorial Day I got up early as I usually do, brewed my first cup,
leaned back to enjoy and sort of automatically flicked on the old tube.
I suddenly thought, to hell with this. I turned off the old Zenith and decided
to think for myself on this great day.
Some people think you have to be real busy and do something on holidays.
I had already decided I wouldn't go fishin'. Got tired of those old bass
and crappie and goggle eyes jerkin' me around. I then decided not to have
fireworks. Too loud and inappropriate on Memorial Day. Then I discounted
horseback riding. Wouldn't that be foolish with an air-conditioned Lincoln
Town Car sitting in my driveway with a full tank of gas and fully equipped
with hot and cold door handles and teardrop hubcaps?
Anyhow, I put thinking about those foolish activities out of my mind, poured
my second cup and drifted out on my patio.
I went through some quality time out there. First, I thanked the God of
my understanding for allowing me to be born almost smack dab in the middle
of this great country. And in the prettiest part of Oklahoma and with all
the freedom and opportunities I have enjoyed for all these years.
Then things got scary. Out of nowhere I said a prayer for those so-called
Christian miserable money-grubbing right-wing goobers who do nothing but
childish name calling, hate mongering, President bashing and all those other
distasteful things so-called Christian right-wing money-grubbing goobers
do. President Clinton discourages hate mongering while those peckerwoods
encourage it. I believe they and extremist radio talk show hosts promote
terrorist acts.
I thought I was a Christian because my mama told me I was, but I will not
associate myself with the likes of Pat Robertson, his propaganda minister
Ralph Reed, Oliver North and all the rest, including that paragon of virtue,
Jerry Falwell.
I suppose I think the nearest thing to spiritual perfection is a liberal
Methodist Democrat.
I've said it before, and I may be wrong, but I believe that it is okay for
us to think and read and dance. I also can't help but believe it is okay
to cuss if you do it proper and if you cuss the right things.
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