 |
 Holabird AdvocateProviding all the news we see fit to print since 2002!Saturday, August 27, 2005 VOL. IV Issue 8T Church Website Shuts Down The Website for the Holabird Church of Universal Life has been deleted. Reverend Jerry Hinkle has decided to close the website due to lack of interest. "People just have not come to the website.", He said. " I never had much of a turnout, but I haven't had one hit all week. It's time to forget that and concentrate on results producing activities." Rev. Hinkle will still be available for weddings, baptisms, funerals, even confessions. As he puts it, "Everything but circumcisions". Mouse in the House Looks like Jerry Hinkle will have to put on his Constable hat. It seems that there is an unwanted intruder in E.E. Hinkle's house. Last night, while polishing off a bowl of pudding, the old boy saw a mouse running across the kitchen counter. E.E. Is so anxious to get rid of the little scamp that he has offered a $20 reward for his capture. Jerry has named the mouse Mort (Latin for dead), and has mouse traps placed in strategic locations around the house. It's too bad he didn't know mice were so valuable, as he caught 5 last week that E.E. never saw. Mary Hinkle caught one herself. The one known as Mort is still on the loose. Not for long. Turning a Red State Bright Orange by Garrison Keillor, Reprinted from Salon.com At a South Dakota barbecue, a colorful young woman proved why America's red-blue divide is mostly a bunch of B.S. I was in Mitchell, S.D. (pop. 14,000, home of the Corn Palace), not long ago standing around in a parking lot next to City Hall eating barbecue off paper plates, the way you do sometimes, with conservative, church-going, stick-to-business towns people, and there, standing next to me, eating just the cole slaw (she is a vegan), was a slender young thing from Los Angeles who was in Mitchell to visit her cousins. In her 6-inch heels, she stood a little taller than I, and her hair was a swatch of brilliant atomic orange, and she wore a cut-off T-shirt revealing a large section of flat midriff with a bluish rhinestone in her belly-button. It was her first time in Mitchell and she was having a great old time. Everybody was talking to everybody -- good pork barbecue will do that to you -- some of us lurking around the long grill where the hog lay with his legs splayed, picking at him, and others standing around the beer kegs, about 40 people in all, some invited, others drop-ins, and it was two congenial hours during which (as I think back on it) I didn't hear anybody talk politics. We could look at each other and sort of guess at the political vibe -- looking at the Lady of Orange, you thought feminist green Euro lefty libertarian -- and why pursue it further? Miss Orange was gadding about, chatting up everybody, laughing her orange head off, and it was clear that, even in a red-state crowd, orangeness is not necessarily a social handicap. It helped that she was young and smart and funny, no doubt about it. But the good Republicans of Mitchell are not above having fun, and this flamboyant oddball in their midst was Not A Problem. It was a pleasure. One shouldn't generalize, but that is what columnists do, so I will: People enjoy oddity and flamboyance, even if they won't say so (not wanting to encourage their own children), so long as it's amiable and not defensive. There are plenty of old grumblers in Mitchell (and anywhere else) but deep down, we're all in favor of people living their lives as they choose and we are fond of true independents and adventurers and gypsy musicians. Red or blue, we agree that freedom is at the heart of American life and it's a big country and there's room for everybody. We all know that life is short and quickly ebbs to a close, so you should go ahead and take that ride down the rapids, fly to Australia, dye your hair, go in the Peace Corps, follow your star, so that when you must sit in the nursing home eating your corn mush and watching stupid TV shows, you have some vivid memories of big adventures. Everyone in this parking lot is in favor of this, even if they don't say so. What we don't need is Too Much Information. There really is no need for a unit on Orangeness in the Mitchell public schools -- let's focus on math and English composition and American history and leave Orangism to be discovered later. But Mitchell enjoys you, Mademoiselle L'Orange. It admires your spunk, your gumption, your sense of hilarity, the way you swan around us plain Midwesterners and throw your head back and laugh. You are right not to assume our disapproval. Too many Orangists do this. They tend to gravitate toward the coasts, which is perfectly understandable, but you shouldn't assume the hostility of the Great In-Between. Don't alienate people who aren't necessarily your enemy. The red/blue business is 78 percent B.S. There's a lot of purple going around, and mauve and magenta. Red or blue, we know that life can be unfair, and hard work is not necessarily rewarded. The world can be merciless. Time marches on. The precipice lies ahead. This is not a Democratic or Republican point of view -- it's common knowledge. And knowing that, we love being around you, vegan L.A. lady at the Mitchell barbecue with your orange hair and 6-inch heels. I'm wearing a navy blue suit and white shirt and thank you for not drawing hard and fast conclusions about my politics and taste in companions. All of us here wish you well and want you to be happy, Miss Orange. And take my word for it, this is terrific barbecue, vinegary and savory and chewy and memorable and altogether worth the loss of life. Thank you, pig. (C) 2005 BY GARRISON KEILLOR. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DISTRIBUTED BY TRIBUNE MEDIA SERVICES, INC. A Modest Proposal by Jerry Hinkle Holabird Advocate Publisher As most things go, I'm pretty hip. I know that things aren't like they used to be back when I was a kid 20 years ago. Look at the South Dakota State Fair. My parents used to drop my brothers and me off at the carnival and turn us loose. That doesn't happen anymore. I used to laugh when I'd hear the loudspeaker at the fair call somebody to the police barracks at the west end of the Grandstand. But now, children being separated from parents is no longer funny. It's a dangerous world out there. Even in South Dakota. I have an idea how we can make the world just a tad safer. How about, when that Snoop Dogg fella comes on TV, we get an English translation of what the heck he's trying to say. Subtitles are nothing new to TV, and definitely needed here. I feel so sorry for Lee Iacocca on the Chrysler ads. I hope he's getting paid well. If I had to be on national TV with I guy who says something like, "I got the nephew hook-up.", I'd be worried about Justin and Cade. No, this won't make it safe for parents to use the carnival for a babysitter. But it's a step in the right direction. If the kids actually start talking like Mr. Dogg, then we really are in for it. On the bright side, that Eminem guy is out of commission for a while.
Comments:
Post a Comment
|
 |