Uprising at Possum's Backside
copyright © 2004 by Robert L. Blau

    Black Bart was the meanest, orneriest, nastiest, unhygienic-ist outlaw west of the Pecos.  Really.  You can check it out on page 247 of What's That?  Some guy on the Potomac is listed as meanest, orneriest, nastiest, unhygienic-ist east of the Pecos, but Black Bart is appealing.  Well, no one that disgusting could actually be appealing, but he's filed a protest.  But I digress.
    Ol' Black Bart ran his own little empire west of the Pecos, and he staffed it with miscreants, hoodlums, and ne'er-do-wells who were almost as mean, ornery, nasty, and unhygienic as himself.  Each of Black Bart's highly trained staff was empowered to loot, pillage, and rape a particular town or area, and they did so with professional abandon.
    One of Black Bart's staff was known as Rabid Rodney, and he was assigned the hamlet of Possum's Backside.  It was his privilege to answer for the hamlet the question of whether it was to be or not to be.  Rabid Rodney was not particularly popular with the people of Possum's Backside, but people get used to all sorts of things, and they were getting used to Rabid Rodney until the Awful Gaffe occurred.
    What, you may ask, was the Awful Gaffe?  One day, as the townsfolk of Possum's Backside were reeling as usual under their tormentor's ministrations, Rabid Rodney let out a belly-chortle.
    "Hee, hee, hee!" he chortled. "You folks sure are yucky!"
    "Gasp!" gasped the townfolks. "Did you call us yucky?"
    "Hee, hee, hee!" chortled Rabid Rodney again.  And off he rode on his horse, which smelled better than he did.
    The town of Possum's Backside had had enough.
    "I've had enough!" declared the mayor.
    "Me, too!" seconded the sheriff. "It's time for action!"
    "What kind of action?" asked the people hopefully. "Are you going to tar and feather him?  If you do we might help."
    "No!" said the mayor. "We're going to complain to Black Bart!"
    "Um, I'm not so sure that's a good idea," said the schoolmarm. "Isn't he the one who sent Rabid Rodney in the first place?"
    "Right," said the sheriff. "Black Bart is Rabid Rodney's boss.  It's his responsibility to control his people.  Who better to complain to?"
    Most of the good people of Possum's Backside thought this sounded like a great idea, so they put together a delegation to go to Black Bart and protest.  They found Black Bart in a foul mood, which was about as good as you could expect.
    "Who the heck are you?" growled Black Bart. "And whattaya want?"
    He then shot out the kneecaps of two of the delegates.  That was considered a positive sign.
    "We have come to complain about your henchman, Rabid Rodney," groveled the mayor.  He didn't mean to grovel.  It was just that he couldn't stand up without his kneecaps.
    "Yeah, what's yer complaint?" sneered Black Bart.
    "He loots, pillages, and rapes the citizens of our town!" declared the sheriff.
    "So, would this be the guy I hired to loot, pillage, and rape you?" asked Black Bart. "Or is it some other guy?"
    "No, no other," replied the mayor. "He's the very one."
    "So, what's the problem?" asked Black Bart. "Isn't he doing a good job of looting, pillaging, and raping?"
    "Only too good," admitted the mayor. "But that's not all!"
    "That's right," added the sheriff. "He said we were yucky!"
    The citizens of Possum's Backside nodded solemnly in agreement.
    "Har, har, har!" guffawed Black Bart. "Ya don't say?  I haven't had a good laugh in a long time.  So, you know what?  I'm going to fire Rabid Rodney for you."
    And he blew out a couple more kneecaps for good measure.
    "Well, that was a successful exercise of the power of the people," said the sheriff.
    "And luckily, we brought Doc along to take care of our injuries," said the mayor.
    "Yeah, but I wish he hadn't shot my kneecaps," said Doc.

    And so the citizens of Possum's Backside returned home, proud of their triumph of organization and agitation.  The next day, another hoodlum roared into town, looting, pillaging, and raping.
    The sheriff accosted the thug.  "Who might you be?" he asked.
    "I don't know who I might be," said the hoodlum, "but I am Pustulant Pete, the
meanest, orneriest, nastiest, unhygienic-ist outlaw this side of Black Bart.  I'm Rabid Rodney's replacement."
    "Yikes!" yelped the townfolk. "This guy's worse than the last one!"
    "But don't worry!" said Pustulant Pete reassuringly. "I'll never say you're yucky."

I'm sorry.  I can't rev it into high dudgeon over Rod Paige's "terrorist" gaffe.  Even if Bush cans him, there will be another coming right along, one who will watch his tongue but not his policies.  We have more important things to do than play Verbal Gotcha with Black Bart's hired guns.  Run the boss out of town, and his henchmen will go with him.