George Buster Singleton |
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “When all else fails, send for
Augusta Jill” was originally published in the Sept. 27, 1990 edition of The Monroe Journal in
Monroeville, Ala.)
This is a copy of a letter from our friend Fonderoy Fishue
to Uncle Sam, wanting to know why he hasn’t been asked to give advice on the
Middle East crisis, since almost everyone else has.
Dear Uncle Sam:
I take pen in hand to write and tell you how put out the
trouble that our country is having in that camel-riding country they call Iraq.
I have been watching the world news on Augusta Jill’s new television. (I bought
my sweet thing a television for her birthday.)
I am amazed as to the many people that don’t know doodelum
squat about them people and the way they live out there in all of that sand.
I’m not sure, but I think almost everyone has given their opinion about this
little jack-leg country and that fellow they call Saddam.
Every time I see him on my baby’s television, he is holding
his right arm up. You don’t suppose that he might be deformed or something like
that, do you, Uncle Sam? I know that he has trouble putting on his britches
with his arm up in the air like that all the time. No wonder he goes around
with that ugly look on his face.
That’s another thing I noticed about friend Saddam; his
mouth is on one side of his face. I guess that is the reason he grows that
mustache, so it will cover that round hole he calls his mouth. I guess he’s got
a reason to be shy – walking around with his sick arm up in the air and then
having all them people looking at his mouth. I guess there could be some
benefit in having your mouth on the side of your head like that; you could hear
what you were chewing.
Take battling stick
I’m not trying to tend to your business, Uncle Sam, but if
you followed my advice it would save us citizens quite a bit of money. You
could draft my Augusta Jill in the Army and send her over there to take care of
that Saddam fellow. She wouldn’t even need a gun; she could carry her battling
stick that she uses to stir the boiling clothes in that big wash pot.
By the time she got through beating his head with that battling
stick, he could probably take his arm down. Might even help his mouth, too.
Augusta Jill can get mighty fired up when somebody starts bad-mouthing our
country. I feel sure that she would volunteer if you talked just right.
If you decide to have a contest and look for a name for this
little problem with Iraq and that fellow they call Saddam, I would sure like a
try at giving it a name. I don’t want you to tell anyone just yet, because I
might win first prize, that is, if you do have a contest.
I’d name this little disturbance “The Jaw-bone War.” You
might not understand this, Uncle Sam, but more jaw-bone muscle has been used
talking about them people out there in all that sand than all the other muscles
that had been used put together.
Stray cats in sand
If you decide not to send my Augusta Jill over there, Uncle
Sam, I had another thought that might even be easier in getting rid of that
odd-looking fellow. Me and my cousin, Penrod, (I wrote you about cousin Penrod)
was talking about all that sand, and we kinda thought that since there’s not a
lot of water over there, and them people don’t bathe too often, you could have
use citizens catch up all the stray cats and fly them over there and put them
out.
With little or no effort, another airplane could fly over
that place they call Baghdad, or something like that, and drop a few buckets
full of some kind of evil-smelling catnip. Uncle Sam, them cats would have that
whole place covered up in no time at all. With all that sand there, them cats
would have a field day.
Just think, the Jaw-bone War would be over and not a shot
fired. I bet that would be a sight, all them men trying to run from them cats
while dressed up in them bed sheets. I guess they wear them bed sheets so all
that sand won’t blow in their pockets when they are out there looking for their
camels. And all they have to do is to just shake the sheet a little when they
want to get the sand out.
I know that you are a busy man, Uncle Sam, with all those
goings-on over there in that place they call Iraq. I thought that I would write
and give you some ideas on the situation so as to make your job easier. I feel
sure that Augusta Jill will do what she can if you see fit to use her. (Augusta
Jill could put the hurt on that Saddam with that battling stick if she could
catch him with his sheet up.)
She said that I ought to be a general or something, knowing
all about using them cats. She said that only a genius would have thought about
that. (I don’t want to take any credit, but I kinda think it would be a smart
move, especially with all that sand just laying around over there.)
I look forward to hearing from you soon, Uncle Sam. If I can
further be of use, my knowledge is at your service. I am your faithful citizen,
Fonderoy Fishue
P.S. I often wonder how them desert men ride them camels
with them bed sheets on and not catch their death of cold?
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and
Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County and
served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to
1987. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and
all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the
microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville.
Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship
purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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