Rush Limbaugh, Rick Perry and John Kelso


So. I’m sitting on the porch out to the ranch this morning with Gram and Aunt Hilda, reading the paper. I like to finish the paper with John Kelso’s column, the one there to the Metro Section of the Austin American Statesman. John was dishing on Texas Governor Rick Perry, and since dishing the Rickster is one of my favorite pastimes, I mightily enjoyed today’s writing.

I even sent John an E-mail thanking him for his good words. Why don’t you check him out and thank him as well? Click to and tell him what you think. All good writers like feedback, and John is a good writer.

Anyway, the three of us were drinking coffee and reading the paper. As I finished John’s column and put the paper down, I noticed that Aunt Hilda was in a whisper quiet, but mightily animated conversation with Woodrow, her shrunken-head-in-a-mahogany-box. Woodie is also Aunt Hilda’s closest confidant and constant companion.

I can’t tell you the whole story, more book fodder, but she and Gram were Baptist Missionary volunteers, and assigned to Africa as young girls. While there, there were under threat of kidnapping, but survived through the kind efforts of some tribesmen. Woodie was an adornment woven into the rug that Aunt Hilda was wrapped into for the five-day canoe trip down the Congo River, and escape.

Aunt Hilda and Gram were rolled into tribal rugs like Baptist Missionary girl burritos, and stowed in the bottom of a dugout canoe.

I can’t tell you more, but let me say that first, Aunt Hilda has never been the same, and second, she and Woodrow have been inseparable since.

What I overheard from the two of them going at it this morning, was something about cannibals. That started my mind to thinking about stuff, and my synapses landed on the thought of the old saying, “You are what you eat.”

Logic? If you eat people as a routine, you are a cannibal.

Then I thought about the old saying, “The clothes make the man.” While I couldn’t derive the same precision here as in the eat dealie, I get the premise. Maybe dressing up as a pretend hooker for Halloween won’t necessarily make you a hooker, but you will feel like a hooker.

Which thinkings then moved me to a thought all my own. That thought is, “You become what you write.”

Since I have been writing a witty and fact-filled bloggie for a few months now, I am starting to feel like an accomplished author. See what I mean? I’m not saying that I am accomplished, but I feel I am.

And since the New Age guys say, “You are what you think you are,” then I guess that I really am an accomplished author.

I think, therefore, I am.

But like my Gram always says, she’ll say, “Who gives a shit Mooner?”

Which reminds me. Rush Limbaugh the pig sneaked out of the closet just long enough to raid Gram’s potion pantry again. He and the ostrich Rick Perry got all snockered-up on a new batch of Gram’s Got Eyes Fer College Boys. While this latest hallucinogenic tonic was designed to put sexy thoughts into the minds of any UT student my Gram manages to snag when she trolls The Drag in her Ferrari, it has proven to be an effective aphrodisiac for the great American domesticated pig.

And the African ostrich as well.

After Gram chased them out of her potion pantry, they holed up back in the closet. I will admit that I have not seen Rush Limbaugh and Rick Perry having any actual sex, but those two boys have a definite affinity for each other.

I asked Dixie to translate some of what they were saying for me, but after listening for maybe a minute she said, “Mooner, you don’t want to know.”

Then she said, “Would you fix me a drink, please?”

Dixie doesn’t drink often so I know it was bad. I fixed her a triple-shot Hornitos Margarita and drank a few Carta Blanca beers with her.

And to show you how my mind works, here’s my latest thought. If a bunch of us think that Rush Limbaugh the pig and the ostrich Rick Perry are gay for each other, does that make them gay?

I don’t really think so. But like Gram said when I asked her. She said, “Who gives a shit Mooner. Iffn I git my hands on em, I’m gonna gut the both of em.”

Maybe Rush and Ricky are safer in the closet.

Manana, y’all.

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One Response to “Rush Limbaugh, Rick Perry and John Kelso”

  1. Lloyd says:

    You are a sick, twisted puppy; exactly the kind I love. Rush and Rick gay for each other? Brilliant.

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