Thursday, August 11, 2005

We Love Our Chief

Dear Editor,

This letter is to all the nasty people who tried to turn the people against Jim Kingston and get the additional mill for the police department turned down.

The citizens for the additional mill and Kingston have spoken -- (Broken Springs Sheriff Paul) Bunyon has spoken. Everyone has screamed at the top of their lungs, “WE LOVE JIM KINGSTON!” Unlike the people against the millage, we appreciate his long hard hours of loyalty and perseverance to get the job done. We are grateful for his protection, particularly of the weaker sex who sometimes need a set of strong hands to guide and shield them from all of the world’s dangers, like jealous husbands who burn all your clothes after he gets home and finds the Chief’s vehicle in your driveway for the third straight afternoon.

The Michigan State Police who are investigating our wonderful innocent Police Chief will find no wrong doing because there was no wrong doing and certainly you cannot find something that doesn‘t exist, can you? All they will find is a mistake, performed over and over again because no one has bothered to let Chief Kingston know that he’s been accidentally breaking the law. People make mistakes, we are all human and make mistakes, it is just a “Bend in the Limb. Not the End of the Limb.” And some slight curvature is normal, the doctors have assured me.

Also to Troublemaking Boob: Red, White, and Blue stands for all who protect and serve our country - the military, but also the police and firemen. And although Jim Kingston was unable to serve his country in the military due to too many unfortunate blows to the head while he was serving his town as a Broken Springs football player, he serves his country now, valiantly and with dedication by mowing lawns across the bridge on his days off.

So if you don’t like it in Broken Springs… move on, find another community to live in. I’m sure there might be a perfect community for you all, somewhere around Benton Harlem. *

Lonna Jackson

* As per the rules in the millage drinking game, everyone must now pour themselves a nice stiff one.

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