All Entries Tagged With: "mountain humor"
New decades and old resolutions
“We’ll be in Richmond by summer or I’ll eat Mr. Lincoln’s hat.”
-General George B. McClellan, Army of the Potomac, January 1, 1862.
“I can’t believe the bear ate Grandpa. Next year we’ll have to be more careful.”
– Melvin Bedwetter-Toole, Glacier National Park, Montana.
“I hope to go peacefully in a whiskey barrel and end up in Heaven on Sunday afternoon.”
– If Wishes Were Nickels, by Attila Gudgeon Jr. Testosterone Bros., Boston
It’s New Year’s Resolution season again but don’t despair, this is not one of those stupid resolution columns that demands towering commitments or a burning desire for improvement. Although documented episodes of out with the old, in with the new exist throughout the annals of history, perhaps there is no better time to categorize these vows than at the beginning of a decade.
Conveniently enough, this enlightened harvest of historically linked passages arrived in our semi-cognizant copy basket on New Year’s Eve. While we realize that there are a multitude of promises and pledges that have had far more impact on mankind, we have chosen to focus on resolutions that were actually kept.
Despite other images that this piece may conjure up, it is apparent that the elements, the planets, and the gods have always looked favorably on 20th year resolution makers. It’s kind of an eleventh hour plus nine thing.
It should be of some relief to all that Big Brother has yet to get around to making these annual covenants mandatory for all citizens. Our earliest concurrent reference point is 600* that, in itself, represents an epic journey into the past by a bush league research team that has yet to recover from the office Christmas party.
Centuries after Guana, a Neanderthal inhabiting Asia Minor in about 4521 BC, started her New Year by promising that she would get her family out of “this drafty old cave and into something modular”, St. Augustine started the ball rolling. Curiously enough it was January 1 in the 20th Year of the 6th Century. The stodgy bandwagon moralist had promised Pope Gregory he would convert Britain to Christianity. Two months later he baptized a leading antagonist, Ethelbert of Kent. Ethelbert would go on to become one of the most abrasive lounge singer/performers in Canterbury. Seeing what he had done, Augustine made a second resolution in which he promised never to discuss religion or politics. He then retired to a remote monastery to write his memoirs. Highlights of other maintained resolutions quite possibly include:
721 AD: Marauding Arabs, searching for the legendary oil reserves described by the Roman poet, Sinclair, sack Carthage mistaking it for the planned community of Mesopotamia. Their leader, Caliph Abdelmelik III, then makes a New Year’s Resolution to have a map of Asia Minor stenciled on his right forearm.
821 AD: Byzantine Empress Irene overthrows her son, Constantine, blinds him, and assumes sole power. She then proposes to marry Charlemagne. After repeated rejections of that conjugal arrangement, Irene promises to quit chasing men and to stop blinding people. Despite her behavior and due to family money, the Greek Orthodox Church later canonized her.
921: After a string of architectural disasters, early electrical contractor, Alfonso III, resolves only to wire castles built with drywall. Saracens, looking for an open service station, get into a gas war with Bulgarians. In January they make a resolution to put their condos in the Holy Land on the market in order to pay for further military excursions into Europe.
1021: On December 31 Danes promise to stop sacking the Irish Coast but they don’t say anything about rape and/or pillage. The Sultan of Ghazi resolves to send his gums to the dentist once a year. Gondola operators in Venice pledge to go on strike until tips improve. A dramatic population explosion in China gives birth to the concept of 1/2 orders on sweet and sour pork.
1121: The Cid takes Valencia from the Moors and promises to return it when he’s finished with a Christian remodel. Unfortunately it is mislabeled as a present to his precocious offspring, who break it the day after Christmas.
1221: An assortment of holy men, including St Anthony of Padua and Chinese philosopher, Chu-Hsi promised to stop talking to the sky.
1221: Scots defeat British at Stirling Bridge and then again at Chevy Chase. King Edward I of England’s New Year’s Resolution is to refrain from playing his bagpipes before dawn. He instructs his troops to avoid looking up the kilts worn by anyone related to Robert T. Bruce.
1421: The Duke of Gloucester vows to stick to his diet in 1398 but is murdered before he can properly push himself away from his dining room table.
1521: Lucretia Borgia, daughter of Pope Alexander VI, shocks the Vatican by divorcing Giovanni Sforza and running off with Alfonso of Naples. Her New Year’s Resolution: Don’t unpack until the ring is paid for. Michelangelo sculpts “Bacchus” and pledges to stop using profane language during his next project.
1621: Vasco de Gama rounds the Cape of Good Hope under the flag of Lisbon. However, after the check bounced, the explorer resolves that further business dealings with the Portuguese would be on a COD basis. The Second Spanish Armada is scattered by storms in the Atlantic. Spanish King Phillip II makes a resolution to start watching the Weather Channel in 1620. He further pledges to move out of his mom and dad’s basement by summer.
1721: Peter the Great luggage is once again lost during a journey through Prussia, Holland, England and Vienna. He makes the trek disguised as Peter Michailoff in order to study European ways. In January of 1701 he vows to travel with only a carry on.
1821: Casanova drops dead moments after vowing to stop chasing young women. After taking Vienna, Napoleon resolves to keep an extra pair of dry socks in his pack. He then exhorts his tired soldiers to “let the good times roll”. Headhunters in New Guinea make their first New Year’s Resolution: To eat only vegetarians. The Court of Versailles promises to clean its Venetian blinds once a month.
1921: The citizens of Savage Basin, Colorado pledge to stop carousing and staying up late. Old Man Roberts, proprietor of Tuller and Roberts Grocery vows to stop bitching and chewing tobacco when he has to cut up a chicken. Mrs. Williams, a cook at the Victor Restaurant in Ophir, promises to stop burning her husband’s toast. “Shorty” Bridgeman, “the racker salesman” resolves to stop spitting while during conversations. Dr. Copp, a Durango dentist vows to stop drinking at the New Sheridan Hotel before oral surgery. The United States government promises to uphold all future treaties with the Ute Nation since most of the tribe has already been relocated to Utah anyway.
Next time: 20th Century Dog and Pony Resolutions
*All dates approximate and generally rounded off to the next decade by eunuchs mining the vast expanse of archival material strewn about the breakfast dishes like concrete and raisins. Is this art? I asked myself, or just hope’s excuse to be a dreamer.
Daily Checklist for the healthy, modern hermit
1 Open door.
2 Look outside.
3. Make sure no one is around and go outside.
4 Come back in and pull the shades.
5 Look out window to see if anyone was watching you.
6. Secure the interior, checking to see if anything has changed.
7 Close door.
Elf Season Expected to have major impact
(Gunnison) The 2021 Elf Season is expected to bring over 5000 hunters into the Gunnison basin over the two-weeks of January. Despite conflicts over licenses and access to traditional hunting areas, the hunt is expected to have a major economic impact. Revenues collected could leap into the millions allowing residents extra cash with which to live it up or perhaps an escape to warmer climates over the winter.
Both the Colorado Treasury and the IRS remind merchants that they are not required to report earnings related to elves since there is no proof that they actually exist. Both taxing agencies went on to wish everyone Good Hunting!
OTRA DISCULPA DE GRUPO
Nos hemos cansado de extender estas disculpas de temporada a Groppo el Elfo y su batería de abogados, pero en el espíritu de las vacaciones llegaremos más profundo e intentaremos despejar algunas plumas una vez más. En primer lugar, dejemos las cosas claras. El breve artículo que aparece en la edición de noviembre sobre la herencia de Groppo fue, sin duda, de mal gusto. Además, realmente no teníamos fotografías del elfo con el ganado local, aunque nos aseguraron que ese era el caso. Resultó que las impresiones desaparecieron la noche antes de que se pusiera fin a este número y nos vimos obligados a sustituir una historia sobre el tan difamado esfuerzo de eliminación de piojos de Spar City y algunas imágenes en color de Melvin Toole colgando luces de Navidad de nuestras muchas cárceles locales.
Las repetidas referencias al abuso de alcohol de Groppo se presentaron fuera de contexto para no poner en peligro la reputación de los ciudadanos locales. Las implicaciones de que la estatura física y la capacidad mental de Groppo son el resultado de su dieta de escarabajos bombarderos cubierto de chocolate, twinkies y hierba de pantano digeridos mientras crecía en Kenner, Louisiana, son ciertas. Esta acusación se puede verificar hablando con el dietista del elfo.
Además, los intentos de cobrar daños por esta publicación por parte de la familia de Groppo son infundados e ilegales. Nunca dijimos que su familia inmediata eran adictos a las drogas, solo que los habitantes actuales de su árbol genealógico eran drogadictos. Tampoco dijimos que fueran alcohólicos, ya que se dice que la mayoría son borrachos en el armario y su comportamiento público, aunque sospechoso, no puede registrarse.
No importa todo eso. Démonos la mano y separémonos como amigos, Groppo. Después de todo, no eres peor que la mayoría de nosotros, especialmente cuando te observan a través del filtro de color rosa de la Navidad. – Editor
Pagan Manger Wins Fruitcake Sculpture Prize
(Tin Pan Alley) The winner of the prestigious 2020 Fruitcake and Dry Wall Festival is Syd Fardt of Delta for his controversial pagan manger scene. The entire composition was made from fruitcake harvested from old barn walls all over Colorado and New Mexico.
The festival, thought to be a strictly a Christian event, decided to officially reach out to non-believers this year in an attempt to relieve their suffering as they march hand-in-glove through hell’s gates.
The normally popular celebration, which began way back in 2019, recorded slim crowds despite free soft drinks and discounted mutton sandwiches. After the show many attendees returned to their parked vehicles to find tins of fruitcake piled high in the backs of pickups, crammed into trailers and abandoned in unlocked cars.
“I even had sliced pieces stuck under my windshield wipers,” said one attendee.
Over in Pouting Gulch, convenience stores describe drowning in fruitcake after a snafu sent 24 semis full of the dessert for morning delivery to one remote location. That site sold 3 fruitcakes in 2019 and only 2 in 2018.
“We even put it out on racks in front of the store but no one steals it, even with the above-mentioned enticements,” said one employee.
Fardt, the winning sculptor, was awarded a partial scholarship to the electoral college of his choice for the next academic session.
– Suzie Compost
One Christmas Eve
Standing over the hot stove cooking supper, the colored maid, Arcie, was very tired. Between meals today, she had cleaned the whole house for the white family she worked for, getting ready for Christmas tomorrow. Now her back ached and her head felt faint from sheer fatigue. Well, she would be off in a little while, if only the Missus and her children would come on home to dinner. They were out shopping for more things for the tree, which stood all ready, tinsel-hung and lovely in the living room, waiting for its candles to be lighted.
Arcie wished she could afford a tree for Joe. He’d never had one yet, and it’s nice to have such things when you’re little. Joe was five, going on six. Arcie, looking at the roast in the white folks’ oven, wondered how much she could afford to spend tonight on toys. She only got seven dollars a week, and four of that went for her room and the landlady’s daily looking after Joe while Arcie was at work.
“Lord, it’s more’n a notion raisin’ a child,” she thought.
She looked at the clock on the kitchen table. After seven. What made white folks so darned inconsiderate? Why didn’t they come on home here to supper? They knew she wanted to get off before all the stores closed. She wouldn’t have time to buy Joe nothin’ if they didn’t hurry. And her landlady probably wanting to go out and shop, too, and not be bothered with little Joe.
“Dog gone it!” Arcie said to herself. “If I just had my money, I might leave the supper on the stove for ’em. I just got to get to the stores fo’ they close.” But she hadn’t been paid for the week yet. The Missus had promised to pay her Christmas Eve, a day or so ahead of time.
Arcie heard a door slam and talking and laughter in the front of the house. She went in and saw the Missus and her kids shaking snow off their coats.
“Ummm-mm! It’s swell for Christmas Eve,” one of the kids said to Arcie. “It’s snowin’ like the deuce, and mother came near driving through a stop light. Can’t hardly see for the snow. It’s swell!”
“Supper’s ready,” Arcie said. She was thinking how her shoes weren’t very good for walking in snow.
It seemed like the white folks took us long as they could to eat that evening. While Arcie was washing dishes, the Missus came out with her money.
“Arcie,” the Missus said, “I’m so sorry, but would you mind if I just gave you five dollars tonight? The children have made me run short of change, buying presents and all.”
I’d like to have seven,” Arcie said. “I needs it.”
“Well, I just haven’t got seven,” the Missus said. “I didn’t know you’d want all your money before the end of the week, anyhow. I just haven’t got it to spare.”
Arcie took five. Coming out of the hot kitchen, she wrapped up as well as she could and hurried by the house where she roomed to get little Joe. At least he could look at the Christmas trees in the windows downtown.
The landlady, a big light yellow woman, was in a bad humor. She said to Arcie, “I thought you was comin’ home early and get this child. I guess you know I want to go out, too, once in awhile.”
Arcie didn’t say anything for, if she had, she knew the landlady would probably throw it up to her that she wasn’t getting paid to look after a child both night and day.
“Come on, Joe,” Arcie said to her son, “let’s us go in the street.”
“I hears they got a Santa Claus down town,” Joe said, wriggling into his worn little coat. “I wants to see him.”
“Don’t know ’bout that,” his mother said, “but hurry up and get your rubbers on. Stores’ll all be closed directly.”
It was six or eight blocks downtown. They trudged along through the falling snow, both of them a little cold but the snow was pretty! The main street was hung with bright red and blue lights. In front of the City Hall there was a Christmas tree-but it didn’t have no presents on it, only lights. In the store windows there were lots of toys-for sale.
Joe kept on saying, “Mama, I want …”
But mama kept walking ahead. It was nearly ten, when the stores were due to close, and Arcie wanted to get Joe some cheap gloves and something to keep him warm, as well as a toy or two. She thought she might come across a rummage sale where they had children’s clothes. And in the ten-cent store, she could some toys.
“O-oo! Lookee….,” little Joe kept saying and pointing at things in the windows. How warm and pretty the lights were, and the shops, and the electric signs through the snow.
It took Arcie more than a dollar to get Joe’s mittens and things he needed. In the A. & P. Arcie bought a big box of hard candies for 49¢. And then she guided Joe through the crowd on the street until they came to the dime store. Near the ten-cent store they passed a moving picture theater. Joe said he wanted to go in and see the movies.”
Arcie said, “Ump-un! No, child! This ain’t Baltimore where they have shows for colored, too. In these here small towns, they don’t let colored folks in. We can’t go in there.” “Oh,” said little Joe.
In the ten-cent store, there was an awful crowd. Arcie told Joe to stand outside and wait for her. Keeping hold of him in the crowded store would be a job. Besides she didn’t want him to see what toys she was buying. They were to be a surprise from Santa Claus tomorrow.
Little Joe stood outside the ten-cent store in the light, and the snow, and people passing. Gee, Christmas was pretty. All tinsel and stars and cotton. And Santa Claus a-coming from somewhere, dropping things in stockings. And all the people in the streets were carrying things, and the kids looked happy.
But Joe soon got tired of just standing and thinking and waiting in front of the ten-cent store. There were so many things to look at in the other windows. He moved along up the block a little, and then a little more, walking and looking. In fact, he moved until he came to the white folks’ picture show.
In the lobby of the moving picture show, behind the late glass doors, it was all warm and glowing and awful pretty. Joe stood looking in, and as he looked his eyes began to make out, in there blazing beneath holly and colored streamers and the electric stars of the lobby, a marvelous Christmas tree. A group of children and grownups, white, of course, were standing around a big jovial man in red beside the tree. Or was it a man? Little Joe’s eyes opened wide. No, it was not a man at all. It was Santa Claus!
Little Joe pushed open one of the glass doors and ran into the lobby of the white moving picture show. Little Joe went right through the crowd and up to where he could get a good look at Santa Claus. And Santa Claus was giving away gifts, little presents for children, little boxes of animal crackers and stick-candy canes. And behind him on the tree was a big sign (which little Joe didn’t know how to read). It said, to those who understand, MERRY XMAS FROM SANTA CLAUS TO OUR YOUNG PATRONS.
Around the lobby, other signs said, WHEN YOU COME OUT OF THE SNOW STOP WITH YOUR CHILDREN AND SEE OUR SANTA CLAUS. And another announced, GEM THEATRE MAKES Its CUSTOMERS HAPPY – SEE OUR SANTA.
And there was Santa Claus in a red suit and a white beard all sprinkled with tinsel snow. Around him were rattlers and drums and rocking horses that he was not giving away. But the signs on them said (could little Joe have read) that they would be presented from the stage on Christmas Day to the holders of the lucky numbers. Tonight, Santa Claus was only giving away candy, and stick-candy canes, and animal crackers to the kids.
Joe would have liked terribly to have a stick-candy cane. He came a little closer to Santa Claus, until he was right in the front of the crowd, And then Santa Claus saw Joe.
Why is it that lots of white people always grin when they see a Negro child? Santa Claus grinned. Everybody else grinned too, looking at little black Joe-who had no business in the lobby of a white theater. Then Santa Claus stooped down and slyly picked up one of his lucky number rattlers, a great big loud tin-pan rattle such as they use in cabarets. And he shook it fiercely right at Joe. That was funny. The white people laughed, kids and all. But little Joe didn’t laugh. He was scared. To the shaking of the big rattle, he turned and fled out of the warm lobby of the theater, out into the street where the snow was and the people. Frightened by laughter, he had begun to cry. He went looking for his mama. In his head he never thought Santa Claus shook great rattles at children like that – and then laughed.
In the crowd on the street he went the wrong way. He couldn’t find the ten-cent store or his mother. There were too many people, all white people, moving like white shadows in the snow, a world of white people.
It seemed to Joe an awfully long time till he suddenly saw Arcie, dark and worried-looking, cut across the side-walk through all the passing crowd and grab him. Although her arms were full of packages, she still managed with one free hand to shake him until his teeth rattled.
“Why didn’t you stand where I left you?” Arcie demanded loudly. “Tired as I am, I got to run all over the streets in the night lookin’ for you. I’m a great mind to wear you out.”
When little Joe got his breath back, on the way home, he told his mama he had been in the moving picture show.
“But Santa Claus didn’t give me nothin’,” Joe said tearfully. “He made a big noise at me and I runned out.”
“Serves you right,” said Arcie, trudging through the snow. “You had no business in there. I told you to stay where I left you.”
“But I seed Santa Claus in there,” little Joe said, “so I went in.”
“Huh! That wasn’t no Santa Claus,” Arcie explained. “If it was, he wouldn’t a-treated you like that. That’s a theater for white folks – I told you once – and he’s just an old white man.”
“Oh . . . .,” said little Joe.
-Langston Hughes, 1933
