Hildecrust’s remark clearly meant for fly on wall

Dear Editor,

I’d like to take a minute out of your busy lives spent gossiping about your neighbor’s prolific love life to clear up a misunderstanding created by none other than the infamous Troublemaker Boob of Onoyoko Township (the Village of Broken Springs disowned him years ago). He foolishly submitted a letter to the editor of the Herald Republican in which he deliberately spoke for Township Supervisor Ernie Hildecrust, Village Mayor Jan Chaddwick, and her wife, Stan. All three people, last time I had my head down their mouths, have in their possession very capable tongues, enabling them all to speak for themselves. Well except for that one time when the Mayor managed to lodge her own foot in her mouth, but I promised her I’d never talk about that.

Mr. Hildecrust told me personally, after he was finished eating his dinner of fried crow and frog legs, that Mr. Boob didn’t have permission to speak for him. In fact, Mr. Supervisor, after he was done licking my family’s heels for dessert, told me specifically, “If anyone’s gonna put words in my mouth, I insist it be you, Oil.” As for the “honor system” comment he made at the police commission meeting last month, Mr. Hildecrust made it very clear that he was directing his remark not to our fair and well meaning police chief, but to a fly on the wall in the corner of the room. Any inference that his comment was directed at Chief Kingston is grossly misguided and very likely perpetuated by that evil gang of fools with personal vendettas that live scarcely in our otherwise perfect community.

We owe a debt of gratitude to Jan and Stan Chaddwick, who both do a job that nobody else wants but everyone wants to criticize. There is no law that prevents a husband wife duo to lead a small village. If there was, do you really think we would’ve allowed Bill and Hillary to run America last decade? But unlike Bill and Hillary, Jan and Stan are dignified folk with a strong moral backbone. Jan, in particular, must have the strongest backbone of anyone I know. Their comments about Mr. Hildecrust’s remarks were justified because, as I understand it, the majority of the audience was stunned when they heard what was said. I wasn’t actually at the meeting (penny poker night with the Masons) but I heard that once the laughing stopped, the audience was quite flabbergasted… more stunned even than when Phil Ruse cut the cheese in the middle of the Chief’s Report. Because it wasn’t made obvious to the crowd that his comment was aimed at the random fly on the wall in the back of the room, I think Mr. Hildecrust owes the police department (not to mention the poor fly) a sincere apology, and fifty dollars. Our fair minded and completely sane Police Chief, showing his maturity, handled the situation with utmost respect. His response of “That goes without saying” clearly implies that he too thought the comment was directed at he and his fine force of burly young men who defend Broken Springs from Terrorists and Mexicans.

But we all must forgive poor Mr. Hildecrust, as he’s getting up there in age and probably doesn’t realize what he’s saying most of the time (unlike me, who’s sharper than that ginsu knife you ordered off QVC one night after you got drunk watching Bruce Lee movies). Mr. Robert Boob, however, should never be forgiven for his deliberate attempts to publish his illogical opinions with the intent to hurt someone everyone else loves and honors. What does that Boob think this is, America?! He will more than likely print that my semen resulted in the birth of the Police Chief’s wife and for that I could not be prouder. If only Mr. Boob took the time to get to know my sperm in law (outside of reading about him in state investigation reports) he’d discover him to be a valiant and superb human being unmatched by any in our small town. A majority in the community already know that he’s better than the rest of us and we aren’t ashamed to admit it.

Very Sincerely Yours,
Oil Brokencan

Mayor Demands Apology

Take it back, you meanie, she tells township rival...

Broken Springs Village President Jan Chaddwick has demanded an apology for what she’s called a “low blow, below the belt” made by Township Supervisor Ernest Hildecrust in regard to the police department. “There was a comment made at the last police commission meeting implying that our police officers have an unusual case of flatulence. And nothing could be further from the truth,” she told News from Broken Springs.

“What I said,” clarified Hildecrust, “is that I don’t want our cops using the department gas tanks to fill up their personal vehicles. It’s embarrassing enough when our star cop gets caught playing William "Don’t Ask Don’t Tell" on company time, I don’t need to be dealing with allegations of fuel swiping on top of everything else. If I have to worry about something, why can‘t it just be Medicare like everyone else my age?”

Hildecrust, who personally spearheaded the campaign to get the gas tanks after the LSD school district privatized their transportation department, insists that he was only trying to nip a potential problem ‘in the bud’ by directing his comment to Police Chief Jim Kingston.

“It goes without saying,” answered Kingston at the meeting, wishing Hildecrust had not said it.

“It was totally uncalled for,” commented the Mayor’s wife, Stan Chaddwick after the village council meeting. “I mean, other than the archery incident, and the hunting incident, and the Christmas Care Bear discrepancies, and the cashing of the Taser checks, and the sexual harassment suit ages ago, and the political intimidation of that black Haitian guy running for council, name me one single time our police department has ever acted dishonorably.”

Ms. Chaddwick, who suffers from occasional diarrhea of the mouth and constipation of the brain, also had second thoughts about whether or not four mills would be enough to fund the overstaffed, overpaid bare bones budgeted police department next year. The millage election is set for August 8th, and despite the Mayor’s doubts, it’s too late to change the amount of mills requested.

The gas issue also fueled questions regarding the possible Township takeover of the police department. “I hope they (the township) aren’t waiting for us to pass this millage before they yank the carpet out from under us,” speculated the always paranoid Chaddwick.

“Is this the calm before the storm?” sputtered a very worried Bob Dustpan.

“Don’t worry,” insisted Paul Pezdispensor. “It’s always darkest right before dawn.”

“And the early bird catches the worm,” added Mike Tendergrass.

“But what if we’re the worm?” asked Chaddwick with a look of dread in her eyes.

Nascar to Shorten Races

NASCAR officials declared today that due to the current increase in gasoline prices, several races later this season will be shortened to save costs. According to the report issued, the money saving initiative will prevent a rise in ticket prices and allow the typical NASCAR fan to continue spending large amounts of cash on NASCAR apparel. Crude oil has topped seventy dollars a barrel this year and nationwide gas price averages sit at nearly $3.00 a gallon. NASCAR stock cars get approximately two miles per gallon.

Only three races will be affected by the move, which has some racing enthusiasts blowing a gasket. The Aaron’s 499 in Talladega will now be the Aaron’s 495. The Subway 500 will cut some fat calories to become the Subway 475. The Coca Cola 600 will become a lot shorter and change sponsorships altogether. It will now be called the Levi 501. Several new sponsors are interested in signing contracts with NASCAR next year if any of the current sponsors decide to ‘gas and go.’ They include Slimfast, Stacker II, and the Yellow Pages, who’s already expressed an interest in sponsoring their own Yellow Pages 411.

Bill France, President of NASCAR, insists that the move is a good one for the world of racing which will save money that can be used to improve NASCAR in the future. “Listen, everyone already knows that most people only watch the beginning and endings of the races. They may wake up from their drunken stupors briefly during the accidents, but most of the time all the laps in between are inconsequential.”

“They are too consequential,” demanded one angry fan sporting an orange #20 shirt as he ate a smokeless breakfast at Floppers Restaurant. “The laps are always run in order!”

“I’ve been a NASCAR fan for 20 years,” says Bill “Buckshot” O’Grady of Laporte, Indiana. “And I don’t like this here idear of shortenin’ the races. They already take almost three months off a year, leaving us poor fans nothing to watch but the crappy rodeos on the Outdoor Life Network. What if I was to say to you that baseball should only have seven innings instead of nine? All them overpaid pansy ballplayers would have a fit!”

Several NASCAR officials insist that 90% of race fans will never even notice the shortened races. The duration of the races will not change because more commercials will be added to the schedule lineups. That means we’ll see more of the Big Brown Truck and several more cheek shots of Dale Jr. in his tight Wrangler jeans. Recent polls indicate that race fans enjoy commercials featuring their favorite drivers almost as much as multi-car pileups on a super speedway. The rare exception is any accident involving Jeff Gordon, which fans prefer by a scale of two-to-one over everything else, including adult movies, and five-to-one over any adult movie that stars someone who may look like Gordon.

“Bottom line is this saves us money. It also protects America. We are ending, or at least cutting back on our addiction to foreign oil,” explained France from his private airline on his way to North Carolina to see the seventh game of the Stanley Cup.

Potent and Impotent

A big congratulations to a few different people in no particular order:

As if the success of the boy’s football and basketball teams weren’t enough, the Broken Springs baseballers will compete in the state finals this afternoon. Way to go, fellas. You make us proud.

On edit: The Clover boys won 10-3 and have brought home our first state title since 1989! Major congrats go out to all of our Field of Dreamers. The town could not be more proud of you!

NFBS’s first and finest fan, Linda Miekle Cash, has recently published a book, Dusty Angels and Old Diaries, that I encourage everyone to check out. Linda is a former Broken Springer who served as clerk to the Onoyoko Township board and the Broken Springs correspondent to the Herald Republican. Her memoir is about her search for her mother.

And because a Potent and Impotent blog entry wouldn’t be complete without a joke, I chose this one because Linda now lives in Ohio. ;)

Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Heaven, God was missing for six days. Eventually, Michael the archangel found him, resting on the seventh day. He inquired of God, "Where have you been?"

God sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds, "Look Michael, look what I've made."

Archangel Michael looked puzzled and said, "What is it?"

"It's a planet," replied God, "and I've put Life on it. I'm going to call it Earth and it's going to be a great place of balance."

"Balance?" inquired Michael, still confused.

God explained, pointing to different parts of earth, "For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity and wealth while southern Europe is going to be poor; the Middle East over there will be a hot spot. Over here I've placed a continent of white people and over there is a continent of black people," God continued, pointing to different countries. "This one will be extremely hot and arid while this one will be very cold and covered in ice."

The Archangel, impressed by God's work, then pointed to a large land mass and said, "What's that one?"

"Ah," said God. "That's Michigan, the most glorious place on earth. You'll notice that it is made in the fashion of my hand, the Hand of God. There are beautiful lakes, rivers, sunsets, and rolling hills.

The people from Michigan are going to be modest, intelligent, and humorous and they are going to be found traveling the world. They will be extremely sociable, hard working and high achieving, and they will be known throughout the world as diplomats and carriers of peace."

Michael gasped in wonder and admiration but then proclaimed, "What about balance, God? You said there would be balance!"

God replied wisely, "Wait until you see the idiots I'm putting around them in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin."

Tails of the Cougar

I confess.

I attacked the Burro. I know the two buffalo got blamed for it but I did it. It was all me. The Burro totally had it coming, though.

You see, I was on my way back from my honeymoon when I ran into the Burro and all hell broke loose. Yes, Lucy and I tied the knot. We were wed in a private ceremony (invite only) and immediately flew to the Caribbean for our honeymoon. When my editor found out where I was (she tracked my credit cards) she demanded that I either high tail it back to Broken Springs or email her my next column. Well, I hocked my laptop in order to buy Lucy an expensive 4 karat gold wedding ring so after only three fun filled days and four funner filled nights I cut my honeymoon short and took a greyhound back home. It was Monday afternoon when I arrived back and I didn’t have a clue as to what to write about for my next column. Shallow Throat told me specifically that she’d reject any harlequin romance so I couldn’t write about my wedding night. I couldn’t even write about how Lucy makes my whiskers twitch with that little thing she does with her hips. Or the way the sunlight hits her eyes when she’s grooming herself in the salon window. Lucy is my muse and without her, I’m just an ordinary cougar with no literative merit.

So I was prowling the township, fighting off writer’s block, when I ran into this wise cracking Burro, whose name was Bubba. As I was walking by his fence, he hollered to me, “Hey, aren’t you the cougar the cops got an APB out on?” in his best Eddie Murphy voice.

“What’s it to ya?” I snapped back, not in the mood for a smart ass.

“Two thousand big ones. That’s the price on your head,” he answered back with dollar signs in his eyes. Two thousand bucks? I was flattered. I don’t think even Osama himself has a bounty that big. I kept walking, with a pounce in my step from the compliment.

I was nearly past the fence when I turned back to the Burro and said, “What’s an APB? Is it anything like the PBA?”

“No, no, you dumb pussy,” said the donkey. “All Points Bulletin. It’s like a BOL.”

“B.O.L,” I spelled out the letters. “You saying I stink, Burro?”

“No, you big dumb wad of fur. BOL means Be On the Lookout. But lucky for you, the Broken Springs cops are SOL when it comes to most things.”

“SOL?”

“Nevermind. I just mean they’ll never catch you because they’d have to be smarter than the creature they’re trying to catch. Like those two buffalo over there.” Bubba nodded to the bison grazing across the road. “Those fellas wouldn’t stand a chance against Jimmy’s boys.”

“Who’s Jimmy?” I asked.

“Jimmy Kingston? Chief of Police? Boy, you are a dumb cat. Where you been living, under a rock?”

“No, at the Holiday Inn, in the Caribbean. I just got back from my honeymoon. I wore a black tux…”

“With tails?”

“How’d you know?”

“I have ESP.”

“Hey, I know that one! It’s a sports channel.” I grinned, proud of my wisdom.

“You’re a regular Danforth Quayle, aren’t you?”

“Well I don’t like to brag,” I said, clearing my throat. “So anyway, these cops… are they dangerous?”

“Only to themselves. I wouldn’t worry. They’re about as competent as a turtle at a drag race,” said the Burro as he chewed a mouthful of cud.

“Isn’t Jimmy the guy who runs that local charity?” I said, recalling details that my editor had shared with me before I left town.

“You mean the charity he has YET to register with the state?”

“I’m sure he has a real good reason. I've only ever heard good things about Jim Kingston. Isn’t he a hometown boy made good?”

“Good? Good for nothing.”

“Take it back! That’s an officer of the law you’re talking about. His job is to protect and serve Broken Springs. And I personally think he’s doing a damn fine job.”

“Spoken like a typical FOJ,” mumbled the burro who was beginning to get on my nerves. “Friend of Jim,” he added before I got the chance to ask.

“I’ve never even met the man. But doesn’t he also mow village lawns and pick up litter left along the street?”

“Nominate him for sainthood, why don’t you? Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you think that power hungry Mayor of ours is light on her feet and has the best interest of Broken Springs in mind.”

“I don’t know her either, but Lucy says she colors her hair. She’s not exactly a fox but you’re no Prince Charming yourself, Burro.”

“That reminds me of a joke. What’s covered with a tent and rolls on wheels?”

That was the straw that broke, in this case, the burro’s back. Before he could blurt out the rest of his Mayor in a wheelchair joke, I bared my teeth and lunged for his jugular. I’m normally not so violent but Bubba had spouted enough of his negative venom. He fell to the ground and muttered, “A motor home,” just before he lost consciousness from the loss of blood.

I high tailed it out of there. The buffalo were my only witnesses and I negotiated their silence by letting them out of their gate. It was only later that I learned the fate of Bill and Cody. Bubba later died, as I understand. I didn’t mean to kill him. I only wanted to maim him a little and teach him a lesson. But I’m sure you understand how I felt when he badmouthed our fine public servants the way he did.

When I told my editor what happened, she signed me up to an anger management class and requested a full psyche evaluation. She also put me on probation. I told her that Lucy says I’m just a big pussy. I purr when you rub my belly. If only the Burro had known that…

The Cougar can be reached at berriencougar@hotmail.com

Police Commission Meeting

It was fairly evident soon after entering Township Hall that El Gordo Davis dropped the ball in his promise to fill the room with a pro-taser audience. There were a dozen chairs set up, no more, no less.

It was almost as evident once the meeting started that Mayor Jan Chaddwick had regained all of her motor functions after the stroke she didn’t have. She seemed as healthy as a buffalo… er, I mean horse. But she did look a little blue in the wardrobe. It’s entirely possible, however, that her ailments are invisible to the naked eye because before the meeting started she asked if they could talk about gas. Flatulence is nothing to be ashamed of, Jan No need to sugar coat it and call it ‘fuel.’

In fact, little Nappy El Gordo Davis wasn’t in the room when the meeting started. Let’s just say he must have his watch set to BPT, or NPT as Kingston might call it. When he does show up, he leaned so close to Journalistic Error editoress Cathy Pullonhertoeifshehollarscallthecops I half expected them to lock lips. He was showing her a picture of an alligator so I can only assume that he’s been doing some genealogical research.

In the Chief’s report, Kingston said it was “business as usual,” which means the Broken Springs police spent another month catching wayward juvies vandalizing parks, Adventists trafficking wacky weed, and keeping the streets of Broken Springs safe from escaped buffalo.

The Commission, because it's such a tease, flirted with the idea of discussing a couple different policies. But then they said they had a headache and curled up on their side of the bed.

A big NFBS congrats to Rob Fishnet for graduating from the Police Academy. And our deepest sympathies for being demoted to Daniel Shame's partner. His last partner was a dog, which might explain why he keeps asking you to lick his face.

Ernie Hildecrust, in his infinite wisdom, tells Kingston that he and his officers are on the honor system when it comes to filling up their gas tanks from the newly delivered fuel tanks. Kingston responded by saying that it “goes without saying.” But if it truly goes without saying, would there have been reason for Ernie to say it to begin with? The mind boggles.

Kingston then reminded everyone of the upcoming millage, encouraging those in attendance to support it. Ernie reassured the crowd that Cathy Pullonhertoeifshehollarsshootthebuffalo will probably write a good propaganda piece in the weakly rag. She nods in approval.

Then a few tears were shed over the loss of David Polaski, who’s been hired on to the county department (where they have the tasers he so wanted). The Mayor expressed relief that he’s still working around the area, and the Commission ruefully reminisced about all the training they financed for him. Officer Kork will now be the department’s primary firearms instructor. One wonders why responsibility doesn’t go to Daniel Shame, since he’s so skilled at hitting women pumping gas, not to mention all of his archery qualifications.

The big story of the night is the tale of two buffalo. They’d escaped a four and a half foot fence. One was 1700 lbs and the other was 1200 lbs which means they were nearly twice as big as the Mayor and obviously as dangerous to the community at large. A man’s burro was attacked and his ass was grass. The Broken Springs Police were given no option, other than calling animal control and tranquilizing the beasts, but to shoot the animals. So in their limitless pursuit of public safety, and also because they wanted to make sure their guns still worked, they shot and killed the two buffalo in Puchanan Township. The rumor that it took them 17 shots to hit the unarmed animals is unsubstantiated. It may have been many more than that.

Ernie Hildecrust then made the comment that our police force really “shoots the bull,” which is quite witty for a man of his age, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps he’d like a regular column in NFBS?

He’s probably just still feeling the contact high from the drug bust in his backyard. Apparently some University students were caught trafficking drugs out near Hildecrust Holes. Police also caught the juvy who’d been vandalizing the Groping Park bathrooms. It’s amazing how much damage one set of hands can cause. But enough about the Police Chief…

The meeting was adjourned at 7:20, which means it was - yet again - a waste of a change of underwear.

Animal Control? We don't need no stinking Animal Control!

This is dedicated to the two buffalo slain by Broken Springs cops earlier this week. RIP Bill and Cody.

Animal Control? Who needs it?

Ryan Newman Day

Governor Jennifer Granholm declared Tuesday, June 6th Ryan Newman Day and one small Michiana community celebrated in a fashion all their own.

Broken Springs, a village of under two thousand once known for the size of their big pickles, decided to honor the NASCAR Nextel Cup driver with a parade downtown and a NASCAR picnic later on in the evening. But parade goers were in for a surprise when the middle part of the parade decided to drag race down the streets of Broken Springs, emulating Ryan Newman himself. Only they didn’t crash. Broken Springs police issued several citations before the parade ended and several others were “black flagged” for speeding on Pitt Road. No, they weren’t coming in for tires or a gas and go (although Sam Beadle did have refried beans for lunch). The black flagged violators were going over 25 mph on Pitt Road, near the Laundromat.

Amidst rising smog levels in Broken Springs, not including the sky rocketing gasoline prices, the quaint little village of 1800 and dropping enjoyed grilled bratwurst and saurkraut after the parade crossed the checkered flag. The winner of the parade was a Niles resident named Quinesha Jones who claimed she was just trying to avoid the profiling Broken Springs police. At the finish line she was given a bottle of Asti Spumante, which she shook up and sprayed on the screaming spectators while standing atop her ‘84 Chevy Nova. Unfortunately she couldn’t stay for the rest of the ceremonies due to other obligations she described as “a screaming baby at home being watched by my a&*hole brother-in-law who’s probably passed out by now.” But when she sped away with the champagne gripped tightly in her lime green polished fingernails, she was promptly arrested for possession of open intoxicants by Broken Springs police.

The fun was not over in Broken Springs. In typical NASCAR fashion, many drunk rednecks got into punch throwing arguments over whose favorite driver was bigger and better both on and off the track. “Cryin’” Ryan Newman, one of the few Nextel Cup drivers with a college education, is a fan favorite of very few Broken Springers. His grasp of the English language, combined with his pudgy figure attributes most to his unpopularity. But BS residents largely agree that all he has to do is throw a few tantrums like Tony Stewart and he’d be sure to increase his fan base.

The first annual “Ryan Newman Day” in Broken Springs ended with a victory lap around the town, led by a caravan of Broken Springs officials, including the Police Chief and Mayor. Chief Kingston told News from Broken Springs that he hadn’t had so much fun since he was tasered before the Police Commission. Mayor Chaddwick agreed that the day was full of excitement. “We could hardly keep her in her wheelchair,” said her husband, Stan.

God help us if we ever have a “Ted Nugent Day.”