Friday, June 11, 2010

ROBBLOG #84 W E E K E N D Edition

Here’s a post I received from Jed Cockburn out in “Stephen Harper Country”. More of a Media release of sorts- I guess. Residents of Ropeburn Alberta read my ramblings about Mr. Harper. Below, a representative of the town sets me straight- as if that could ever happen, in the re-printed letter I received- postage due. I wrote back and said I would print it on my RobBlog.


Ropeburn, Alberta (Special Information Release)

Let me tell you people there in the east about us God-Lovin’, golf-fearing folks who live the way nature intended. I live in Ropeburn. Ropeburn, Alberta. Population 1,112. There’s no golf course within 53 miles of here- since those “Mary worshippers” moved, taking up valuable space and keeping “certain people” at arm’s length. Ropeburn’s located a yank of a cord and a hop, skip and step in a southerly direction from Waylayed Alberta. Waylayed being famous for its fine “Western Hospitality”- but now, this here story is about Ropeburn, so let’s dispense with the Waylayed crap.

Ropeburn is home to our community centre, library, a nice downtown filled with shops- but none of them water-pipe places- and a dozen or so churches- mostly Baptist ones. We used to have one of those religious places that the Pope fella is head of but the low life kept spraying graffiti on the front door, peeing on the cedar shrubs and stealing the Baby Jesus from the Nativity display every Christmas. So, they finally closed up shop and moved to Waylayed. They said it was just a decision based on economics and church decree but we know different. It was probably them Presbyterian Pre-teen Bible Study kids- doing the peeing at least!
No. I ain’t gonna say what that graffiti said- wouldn’t be ethical and if it’s one thing we got in Ropeburn- it’s ethics. Why just look at the people who live here. The Indians across Bone Marrow Lake were here first. They actually lived on this side of the lake until we very nicely asked them to move across to the other side- yes the dirt was a bit rockier than this side- but we paid them off in heavily in wooden beads, tobacco, gin and pieces of cotton cloth. Next we allowed a few Mexicans in to pick our radishes. Then the Newfies, some “pepsis”, a Yank or two- we try not to hold that against them and now even a coloured fella who actually looks kinda white until you see him at night or on an overcast day. So, don’t go telling us nothing about being just a bunch of wasps- we have some ethical people in town too.

Now as far as them folks who don’t know how to finish the Lord’s Prayer in the proper fashion, you know, them no-meat-on- Friday eaters, we say- good riddance.
If you can’t stand the heat- get out of Ropeburn.
So they did- eventually. They wandered down to Waylayed much in the same way as that great Christian (Baptist) man Moses led his people round and round in circles for 40 some odd years. These folks didn’t wander so much as booted it out of town early one Saturday morning.
Oh, but did we get a tongue-lashing from their religious authorities. Seems they accused us of twisting the truth- or at least their nipples. Hah. Hah.

Anyhoo, we proud folks in Ropeburn want you to know that we think your lick-ass treatment of that Mr. Harper is wearing a bit thin- like cheap “rubber conundrums” you’d buy down at the Rexall Drug Store on Main Street. We gottta tell you that we love that guy. In fact, Tuesday next our Town Council has declared that the town square be re-named “Harper Green”.
We couldn’t be happier than pigs covered in shit.
Sarah Ballsover even sent an electronic mail to that Mr. Harper asking him to come and cut one for us. A ribbon will be stretched taut between two Bammagillia trees, much in the way that that Liberal leader’s mouth looks, stretched between those two things he calls ears! The ribbon comes from Old Mrs. Cuttone who went and dug it out of an old chest she keeps in the basement- mostly filled with old Beaver Magazines from the 40’s and 50’s. Some of then “French” Beavers. Lot’s of good Christian stuff to be learned reading one of them old editions Mrs. Cuttone tells me.

We just received a nice reply to Sarah’s note saying “the PMO’s Office has received your letter and wants you to know it is appreciated when we receive comments from fellow Canadians.”
Ain’t that nice?
We are sure the PMO Office will send the mail along to the Prime Minister’s Office in due course.

In the meantime it’s party, party. The lemonade will be flowing and if Billy Parsons gets his contraption repaired in time- wherein he makes a very tasty “communion wine” I might add, we might just have some “juice” to wash down the groundhog burgers and the turnip hash browns at the BarBQue.

Sam Two Rivers from the Chacahatcha Indian Reserve across Bone Marrow Lake- once again note we are ethical, is having a few big posters of Mr. Harper commissioned and they’ll be nailed to a few trees in “Harper Green”. He says some of them “feathered folk” might even whoop and holler around a fire, right in the centre of “Harper Green” to cast a few good spells to the mighty Spirit in the Sky, ensuring Steve gets the majority of his way in the next election.
Of course, most of us here in Ropeburn think he’s just doing a fine job dealing out his extra-right, Jesus-is-a-friend of mine “values”.
Praise his name. It be- Stephen Harper.

So you lefties out there and in particular you “smart-ass” Ontario types- sorry for the bad ass language- but read ‘em and eat me. The West is rising again and we just wanna say that you all had better not hurt our boy there at 24 SusSex Drive. He’s a good boy with the right ideas- top or bottom- even though he can’t say “queer” if his mouth was shoved full of one, else he’d make the papers and get in all kinds of trouble.
Tarnation, you just have to have something like “lock-jaw” to stay out of trouble as a fella forces himself into the many political bedrooms of this fine country of ours.

I was in one of those once- in Waylayed. It was all panelled with dark wood and had a pitcher with a bunch or water glasses sitting in the middle of a big walnut table. Always wondered what was inside one of those Political bedrooms that made it so special. I’ll betcha there’s a lot of grunting and verbal hog-tying going on in one of them rooms too.

So, just keep your F’in Eastern digits off our boy or we’ll catch the next haywagon out of Ropeburn Alberta and head East for a great big ole whoopin’ party.

Yours truly,

Jed Cockburn.