Copyright 1994 by M&I Contributors
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THE PARSONS MESSENGER AND INTELLIGENCER
28 November 1994 Parsons, Iowa, USA Volume 4 Number 2
**** Serving Nodaka County for nigh on to 3 and 11/12 years ****
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MAN BIT DOG
REVELATIONS CONTINUE
IN MURDER INVESTIGATION
By Henry Todd Sweeny, Journalism Intern
*******************************************************************
Parsons, Iowa -- The Sheriff's office is having trouble keeping their
dinner down in the investigation of the late Madeline Egert's
suspicious death and her accused murderer, Josh Meadows, a 25-year-old
dishonorably-discharged Marine.
It seems when Josh Meadows was set free on bail and set up camp behind
the Egert home, he did a little sport shooting with his Chinese-made
AK-47 rifle. Being environmentally conscious, he then picked up the
gophers he had shot, cooked and ate them.
Dr. Goodhardt of Goodhardt's Veterinary Clinic has done a preliminary
autopsy on the body of the deceased pet of Madeline Egert's Chihuahua,
Bobo, allegedly poisoned by Josh Meadows. Sources close to the
investigation say that the test show that Bobo was, indeed, poisoned
by an injection and may have been bitten several times on the left
rear haunch shortly before his death. The bite marks evidently match
the pattern of human teeth.
County librarians have disclosed the surprising fact that Chihuahua
and gopher are quite similar in taste. This fact led Sheriff Wilbur
Thompson to dig through Meadows' trash pile, recovering a large number
of bones.
"We hope to get some bite marks off these here bones to compare to the
marks Doc Goodhardt found on the Maddy Egert's dog," Sheriff Thompson
disclosed candidly. "We got a request in to US Marine Corps to get
ahold of Meadow's dental records."
The Sheriff's office is now reconstructing the various animals that
were eaten. So far, three chickens in addition to the expected
gophers have been discovered. However, a large number of bones remain
to be examined at press time, and it seems unlikely that the county
medical examiner could determine anything conclusive this early in the
investigation.
When this reporter cautiously approached Meadows for comment on these
gopher-eating allegations, he simply burped.
*******************************************************************
MURDER SUSPECT RECAPTURED AFTER FAKED DEATH
by Cynthia Marston Haggart, Parsons M&I Staff Gopher
*******************************************************************
Parsons, Iowa -- Josh Meadows, under arraignment for the murder of
Madeline Egert and free on $25,000 bond, was recaptured in a cave in
Story County after his apparent mysterious death was found to be a
clever but extremely poorly-executed ruse.
Meadows, a 25-year-old dishonorably-discharged Marine turned weapons-
stashing survivalist, was suspected of intentionally overdosing Egert
on morphine as she lay dying of cancer. He stood to inherit her house
on Portal Street and was named as the beneficiary of her life
insurance policy. However, Egert's family agitated for first-degree
murder charges after it was discovered that Egert's beloved Chihuahua
Bobo was killed by an injected drug overdose only days earlier.
Meadows, freed when a dark-suited man in sunglasses paid his bail with
a check from the Idaho-based American Liberty Blood and Fire Alliance,
responded to the added animal-abuse charges by announcing, on the
county courthouse steps, "That dog shot himself up. I seen sewer rats
do it in the 'Nam."
Marine records show that Meadows never served in Vietnam or, for that
matter, anywhere outside the state of New Jersey.
Following Meadows' release from the Nodaka County Jail, he spent 24
hours a day inside a jungle tent in the Egert back yard, refusing all
requests for interviews and sending out for pizza using a walkie-
talkie.
The case took a further bizarre twist last Thursday when a plume of
smoke suddenly erupted from the mosquito netting of Meadows' tent.
Nodaka County volunteer fire fighters responded within hours and found
nothing inside the tent burned except for a charred fatty glob
congealed along the length of a red corduroy recliner. Volunteer Fire
Chief Bob Bill "Chuck" Rob, following a brief investigation, filed a
report stating "This is a clear-cut case of the mysterious phenomenon
of spontaneous human combustion, undoubtedly brought on by extreme
subconscious guilt and possibly repressed memories of parental sexual
abuse."
Deputy Sheriff Earl Watkins, following up the same afternoon, took a
sample from the chair to the Nodaka County Crime Lab and determined
within minutes that the substance rapidly soaking into the chair was
"weasel grease," the liquid they soak your popcorn with at the movies
if you ask for it buttered.
"Well now, it was just solid police work, based on my own cop's
hunch," Watkins demurred in an interview. "I mean, it smelled like
the lobby of the Astro Theatre in there the minute you opened the
flap."
Retrieving K-9 detective "Fleegle" from Vet Goodhardt's kennel out on
Highway 6, Watkins began tracking the suspect, who he believed had
escaped on foot. Sure enough, Watkins said, "Ol' Fleegle took off
right down Portal Street. In fact, it was like the ghost of poor Bobo
was leading him."
When the trail led across the county line, Watkins radioed for backup.
Story and Nodaka County law enforcement officers eventually converged,
late Thursday afternoon, around a small hole under a big rock in a
fallow soybean field.
"We called for him to come on outta there for about twenty minutes,"
Watkins reported, "before he finally pushed that rock back. Dang,
that hole wasn't more than about four foot square. I wouldn'ta gone
in there. It smelled like it probably served an outhouse not more
than about two three years ago."
Watkins re-arrested Meadows and transported him back to Nodaka County
Jail, where he is in custody tonight.
"Had to clean up the cruiser with a lotta Lysol afterward," Watkins
noted.
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MESQUAKIE CULTURAL CENTER PLANNED ON SITE OF OLD
HERBERT DETERS FARM
By Lara Staggemeir, Journalism Intern
*******************************************************************
Parsons, IA -- A one hundred and twenty acre parcel (locally known at
the old Herbert Deters farm) abutting Selkirk's Inn and Ammo on one
side, and the George Bluford Farm on the other has been sold in a
private sale to the Mesquakie Indian Tribe. Clinton One Fox, a tribal
spokesman, said the tribe plans to build a $3 Million Dollar Cultural
and Educational Center on the property.
"The complex will feature a museum, library, gift shop, and living
arts area where traditional Mesquakie arts and crafts will be taught,"
One Fox said during a press conference in Des Moines. "We were really
pleased to get the property. It has been on the market for a long
time, and we were amazed when the current owner accepted our offer.
Parsons is fine area, geographically and politically, and we
anticipate a good relationship with town's people and local
businessmen. This should bring a lot of tourists into the area."
The Mesquakie are unique among Native Americans in that they own the
land on which their tribal reservation resides. Most other tribes
were deeded their land by the Federal Government as dispensation for
tribal lands that were taken over by settlers. The tribe bought its
first parcel of land consisting of 3,500 acres near Tama, IA from the
State of Iowa in 1856, and continues to purchase land when it becomes
available.
When asked about this fact, One Fox said, "One of our ancestors saw
the whiteman's graffiti on the wall a long time ago, and figured out
that the only way to get good property was to pay the going market
rate. You get what you pay for, you know. Look at the other tribes
who waited for the US Government to provide for them and you'll see
what I mean: god forsaken pieces of nowhere that nobody wants. The
Mesquakie have always been farmers so Iowa was and is always the
perfect state for us. The Mesquakie were nearly obliterated by
settlers and the Sioux before 1860, if the founders hadn't gotten the
money together to buy the original parcel there most probably wouldn't
be any of us left."
When asked about just how much land the Mesquakies own in Iowa,
One Fox smiled. "I don't really think that's anybody's business," he
said. "I mean, does anyone know how much land Mr. Bluford or Mr.
Selkirk actually owns? The tribe buys land when it wants to, when the
tribal communal fund has enough money in it, or when a prime parcel
becomes available. We own the equivalent of about 5 square miles of
land, and Iowa is over 56,000 square miles, so no one needs to panic
and think we're buying up the state."
When asked about this impressions about his new neighbors, George
Bluford offered the following statement, "I welcome the Mesquakie
to the neighborhood, and applaud their efforts to educate the
community and the state about their illustrious history. Any efforts
to better the understanding between ethnic groups I can support, and I
see the Mesquakie Cultural Center being a useful and educational
addition to our community. Besides, I might learn something new
having these new neighbors!"
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DANGER AT SCHOOL BOARD POLLS:
REPUBLICANS IN LANDSLIDE
By Eugene James, Journalism Intern
*******************************************************************
A landslide on Cabbage Ridge Road trapped many local voters until
after polls closed. None of the group were injured. The county road
department hauled the mud and rock debris over to the Nodaka County
Fairgrounds.
After missing the annual School Board Election Day barbecue dinner at
Bill Newton's house, the 61 members of the Republican Friends of
Cabbage Ridge School were up in arms about the condition of the county
road. Bill Newton announced the formation of a new committee to lobby
for building a new road to Cabbage Ridge.
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CABBAGE RIDGE SCHOOL BOARD
ELECTION RESULTS:
DEMOCRATS IN LANDSLIDE
By Eugene James, Journalism Intern
*******************************************************************
In a show of surprising strength the local democrats swept all 3
Cabbage Ridge school district board positions for the first time
since the founding of the district. The reform democrats out-polled
the incumbents by better than 2 to 1. The closest race was 28 to 11
with Robbie Williams beating Bill Newton. For the second seat Lee
Seekatz had 29 over John Watson with 10. In the race for the third
seat, Edwin Parker won with 30 votes, Richard A. Brother got 7 votes,
and write-in candidate, Eugene James got 2 votes. With Robbie
Williams acting as chair-woman, the new school board held a news
conference to announce formation of a committee to study the road
access to the school.
Also of note: Cabbage Ridge PTA holds their annual Christmas pageant
and bake sale on Dec. 15, 5PM to 9PM, Cabbage Ridge Grade School gym.
*******************************************************************
ANNOUNCING THE FIRST OF HUNDRED OF
"BIG J RESTAURANTS"
By Henry Todd Sweeny, Journalism Intern
*******************************************************************
Parsons, Iowa -- Jason Fleece, one-time owner of Preener's Fast Food
and Video Nook, has announced that he is opening the first "Big J"
restaurant in what he says will be the biggest chain in America.
"We've got what America loves--hamburgers--and our burgers are made
only from sacred cows. That's right, Holy Cows!" Fleece said when
interviewed.
He took us out to his barn and introduced us to the butcher, who
seemed to be a foreigner even though he looked sort of familiar in
some shadows. The butcher just smiled--quite a nice smile, really--
and sliced away at the carcasses hanging there.
Frankly, although Fleece insisted that all the sacred cows are
imports, some of them appeared to be local products to this reporter.
In any case, Fleece says he thinks the American public is ready for
high-priced beef. He says he's got the answer to such popular
questions as "where's the beef" in his Ground Eternal Round, New
Heavenly Steaks, Rack of Reborn Ribs, and the rest of his Holy
Baloney.
This reporter thinks Fleece could use a good long sea voyage and some
time to think about whether there are enough sacred cows around to run
a chain of "Big J" restaurants. Also, this reporter really thinks
Fleece should check into the pork barrel the politicians use, since
that one never seems to run out.
*******************************************************************
ACCUSATIONS FLY!
GIRL SCOUT TROOP LEADER ACCUSES
LOCAL PARSONS CC PROFESSOR
OF INDECENT EXPOSURE
by Sally Fredericks, Journalism Intern
(Former Troop 493 1/2 Member)
*******************************************************************
Parsons, IA -- Herkimer Gerold-James, Girl Scout Leader for Troop 493
1/2, brought his troop back in a state of shock last weekend.
Apparently rumors that one of the Professors at Parsons Community
College prefers to spend his weekends out in the woods naked may have
some foundation in reality.
Jessie-Sue Anderson explained, "We saw Dr. Elijah Bradford! He looked
like a fool, banging his head on that log."
Gerold-James, although under medical treatment for severe stiffening
of his upper lip,, "It was horrible. We had set up camp as planned
and were collecting slugs, salamanders, and some herbs for a natural
dinner. We were proceeding north-north-west, well maybe a shade east
of true north-north-west, or even a couple shades, and had gotten
about 50 paces from the edge of Laura Thirtyacre's farm when we saw
him."
Gerold-James paused for a swig of medicinal spirits. (About a glug of
good Jamaican rum by the color and smell of it.) "It was definitely
him [Elijah Bradford] that fella that teaches sociology over at
Parsons CC. He was kneeling there in the altogether, just banging his
head on a log.
"Naturally, I cautioned the girls to wait while I investigated. I
told them to get all our first aid supplies ready, so they started
ripping their skirts into bandages while I went forward to see if I
could help the poor man. I think that may be when I hurt my lip."
Gerold-James then explained, "I asked him what he thought he was
doing, and he responded that he was bonding with the log to affirm his
male nature. I told him he was nuts, and he screamed something about
that being the point and jumped up. The girls were shocked, I think,
but he ran into the woods then and disappeared. I did what I had to
to comfort the girls, then brought them all back to town early."
This reporter called Laura Fish Thirtyacre, an art instructor at
Parson's Community College to ask about her take on what was going on
near her farm.
"ARRRRRGH!, "Thirtyacre said. "What next? Gerold-James and his
stupid troop of over-age girl scouts were camping on my property
without permission. I called the Sheriff's office about the
trespassing, but Gerold-James bugged out early before Deputy Watkins
could get out here to remove them. My property is posted, NO
TRESPASSING ALLOWED."
This reporter then repeated her question about what was happening
on Ms. Thirtyacre's 200 acre parcel.
"I have nothing to hide," Thirtyacre replied. "Elijah Bradford and I
have been together for years. Eli is half-Sioux undergoing training
to become a shaman and has built a sweat lodge on my property. This
lodge is in the center of my property in a copse of trees, a good 1/2
mile from the road. Contrary to some stories, Dr. Bradford is not
into that Iron Jim stuff and the "banging the head on a log"stuff
Gerold-James and his troop claim to have witnessed was Eli chanting,
and carving a new ceremonial drumhead. Gerold-James and his stupid
troop violated a consecrated circle, and profaned a ritual that Eli
had been performing for over a week. If Gerold-James wants something
juicy, he should be looking for that Neo-Pagan Goat Cult that holds
nude rituals."
This reporter then called Bob Bladt, Owner of Goat's Unlimited for his
comments. In the past Mr. Bladt has been accused of being the Neo-
Pagan Priest who advertised in the M&I personals for a priestess for
his cult.
"Not that _ _ _ _ [censored] again, give me a break. Geez! I get
accused of everything just because I am running a successful
business," Bob Bladt told this reporter. "Yes, I have goats. I am
fond of them and I happen to be a Capricorn but I do not worship them,
or cavort naked in the woodlands with them. Goats Unlimited is a
family run business. We have our main store here in Parsons, but we
also fill mail orders from around the country. Our sales last year
were over $200,000, and we expect to top $425,000 this year. Some
locals are jealous of my success, and to them I say: TOUGH NOOGIES!"
After this there was an audible -click- because Mr. Bladt had just
hung up on this reporter.
I asked 493 1/2 troop members if they were shocked, and most answered,
"Yes!" An unidentified voice said, "I thought a college teacher would
have more..."
"When I asked "More what?", the girl said "Sense. What kind of
religion is it when you sit around naked in the woods anyway? Rev.
Rivers [Rev. Jordan Rivers of the Open Bible Fellowship] would never
do anything like that."
When asked by this reporter for a reaction to this statement, Laura
Fish Thirtyacre was silent for several minutes.
"Someone told me that Herkimer Gerold-James had a connection to Rev.
Rivers and George Stonebrake, and I didn't want to believe it. If
there is a connection, this means I am being systematically harassed
both in my professional and private life. If Mr. Gerold-James' name
if on the membership list of POPON [People Of Parsons Opposing
Nakedness], there is going to be one helluva a law suit filed in the
next couple of days. Someone should investigate Gerold-James anyway.
He is constantly trespassing on private property. What kind of
parents let their daughters traipse about in the woods with a drunken
sod? The girls in that troop range from 15 to 18. Am I the only
person who thinks this is strange?"
*******************************************************************
NEW NEWS FEATURE
THE SPORTS REPORT
By Knute Latissimus
*******************************************************************
Howdy, Parsons.
As your new sports columnist -- and the 1976 all-county quarterback
for the undefeated Hyannis (Nebraska) Hellhounds -- I'll be providing
the ultimate insider's perspective on the up-and-coming Parsons sports
scene. Years of kruellers and double-sugar coffees now weigh heavy on
this former athlete, but my keen nose for news (and that wonderful
first paycheck I just got with Polly Prudhohn's signature on it)
pretty much guarantees you a long and satisfying link to all the
sports information you can stand. In the news this week:
*** Homecoming Game A Near-Win ***
No one in Nodaka County seems to know it yet, but the Parsons Possums
are the best-kept football secret around. With the talented Buck
O'Brien (son of Judy O'Brien of the Head Games Salon) at quarterback,
the Possums offense really kicked into high gear against Fontaine
High's recently renamed Non-Hostile Indigenous Americans before
finally succumbing in a close 21-3 heart-stopper.
Buck has come a long way since the time he beaned Coach Crabtree in
the noggin with a slightly-overthrown screen pass last year.
Abandoning passing altogether, he and running backs Scott Farney and
Sven Sundquist put together an imaginative running game that featured
the dangerous and controversial "Naked Reverse" play. The Naked
Reverse, for the uninitiated, has nothing to do with whatever immoral
foolishness you might be dreaming up. No, it calls for the entire
offensive line to move in one direction after the snap in order to
fool the other team's defense into thinking that the running back, who
is scampering like a madman in the opposite direction, is following
them. If the defense is fooled, the running back can run clear to the
end zone and all the way to Preener's Fast Food & Video Nook for a
burger before he's caught. But if the defense gets one whiff of what
the offense is up to...
Speaking via telephone from Our Lady of Infinite Plains Hospital,
halfback Sven Sundquist seemed confused about the outcome of
yesterday's Naked Reverse. "I don't know my name, and I don't know my
address. All I know is, eleven guys danced on me for a while, and the
doctor says Mickey Mouse will come and visit me soon. Are you Mickey
Mouse?"
Coach Crabtree has put Sundquist on the 15-day disabled list.
Scott Farney, the team fullback, racked up over 100 yards yesterday
and seems to be getting faster with each passing harvest. Now, I've
been hearing some less-than-generous hearsay down at Lizzie's Donut
Emporium about that secret military laboratory beneath the Farney Pig
Farm, and I'd like to state for the record that the unnaturally-
muscular state of Farney's legs have *nothing whatsoever* to do with
whatever silliness is going on down there. Remember, Parsons: This
is a 16-year old future grange member we're talking about here, and
he'll have a hard enough time getting a date for his junior prom, what
with all the rumors of his glowing in the dark and being hairier than
a grizzly's butt. A little restraint, please...
*** 2008 Olympics to be Held in Parsons? ***
The M&I has just learned from a secret and honorable source
(honorable, that is, if he returns the 1967 Mustang he borrowed from a
certain columnist without any funny stains on the upholstery) that our
town council has been negotiating with the International Olympic
Committee to get the 2008 Summer Olympics held in beautiful downtown
Parsons, Iowa.
Certain logistical problems need to be worked out before an agreement
can be reached. Since over 5,000 athletes would descend like a well-
sculpted horde on our town, R.J. Selkirk said he would consider
adding a new wing to Selkirk's Country Inn and Ammo to house the
athletes, and may even offer a special deal on shells for the
biathletes' rifles. When informed that the biathlon is a winter
sport, R.J. thought for a moment, shrugged, and said, "Well, I'm sure
I can move some arrows for the archery people."
To help deal with a huge influx of cars, vans, and whatnot, a traffic
light would need to be installed at the intersection of Main and Oak
Streets, and Sheriff Wilbur Thompson has offered to send Deputy
Sheriff Earl Watkins to crowd control classes at the State Police
Academy in Des Moines. Needless to say, all of this isn't reflected
in the current town budget, so Wilbur has suggested to our mayor that
a slight raise in property taxes may be necessary. If this happens,
there may be an unofficial "Wilbur season" for all you hunters out
there: stay tuned for details.
*** Coming Up Soon ***
In upcoming columns I'll be providing the results of this year's Our
Lady of Infinite Plains Annual Charity Trot, the scoop on the
Wednesday Night Women's Bowling League dow n at Duke's Strike n'
Spare, and the outlook for ice fishing this winter. Since I' m new in
town, I'd appreciate any suggestions for sports events deserving
coverage. If you can't reach me at the M&I offices, I can usually be
found down at Lizzie's, in the booth right in front of the krueller
case. Come on down and set a spell!
Exertion leads to endorphins,
Knute Latissimus
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NEW STORE: WRITELY YOURS OPENS
*******************************************************************
Dear Miz Polly and all interested Parsonites,
I'm writing in just to say howdy and to let everyone know about my new
store. It's named WRITELY YOURS and is 1/2 block from the Tip Top Tap
on Court House Lane I'll be carrying greeting cards, gifts, stationary
and books. I've moved here from out west in Oregon on the advice of
my cousin Eugene who lives out to Cabbage Ridge. He says that most
ever'body is plumb nice and the politics here is just plain old-
fashioned and peaceful except for some irate republicans who live out
by him. I'm looking forward to meeting all of you.
Fondly,
Jim Duncan
Proprietor, WRITELY YOURS
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POLICE BEAT
Note: Deputy Sheriff Earl Watkins who normally does this column is
assigned to the Josh Meadows investigation, so this column is being
done by Hans [Hansel] Tubteroff,
Nodaka County Assistant Deputy Sheriff
*******************************************************************
Sheriff's Office calls:
Mon Nov. 14 -- Caldecott's Bluff Rd., a ticket for illegal parking on
private property was issued to a D. Bowie, address London, ENGLAND
was issued, and a citation given to D. Bowie and H. Wang, employee
at Selkirk's Inn & Ammo, for trespassing and Oriental War Kite
fighting without a license. Both parties had been warned about this
after a previous incident. For interested parties: Elvis beat the
English Dragon again, that's 2 to Zip!
Tues Nov. 8 -- landslide on Cabbage Ridge road, no injuries, no
transport needed, road cleared by 10 PM.
Fri Nov. 4 -- a few calls reporting a loud whooping coming from the
old shed back of the Cabbage Ridge School. No suspects, no evidence
found.
Tues Nov. 1 -- acting on a private tip, six constructions workers were
fined for public urination at construction site of Jason Fleece's new
Big J Restaurant at 21 Aurora Lane. Big Pete Mieberman, crew foreman,
was also cited for doing #2 behind hedge on abutting private property.
Jason Fleece is protesting these fines due to "extenuating
circumstances."
Tues Nov. 1 -- Ralph Jorgensen, proprietor of Jorgy's Diner and Fast
Fill, Route 17 called to complain about a woman with a spray can
defacing his diner. Polly Prudhohn, 75 Maple Street, was apprehended
with a can of black spray paint at scene. "Ralph said he was going to
paint over the sign yesterday," Ms. Prudhohn exclaimed as she was
cuffed and put in the cruiser. "I've had 15 obscene phone calls so
far." Assistant Deputy Sheriff Tubteroff negotiated with Mr.
Jorgensen, who agreed not to press charges and sign was painted out.
Mr. Jorgensen had reneged on his earlier promise to Ms. Prudhohn due
to a "surge in business" which he reckoned came about because of the
sign. Ms. Prudhohn was released on her own recognizance.
Mon Oct. 31 -- Angora Nanny goat reported stolen from Goats Unlimited
at 554 South Bromide Street. Bob Bladt reports this is the 3rd Nanny
goat stolen from Goat Unlimited on a Halloween night in 4 yrs.. Local
cult suspected. $250 reward offered for return of Gruff's Silky Miss
Mavis, white with black markings and a full udder.
Mon Oct. 31 -- call from Glendon Thorinsson, co-proprietor of The
Brass Monkey Gift Shop, 560 South Bromide Street, reporting that
"Brewster, a life-size 'anatomically correct' brass replica of a pygmy
chimp, weighing approx. 400 lbs." had been stolen from outside the
store. No suspects. Reward of $500 offered, no questions asked.
Mon Oct. 31 -- call from Polly Prudhohn, 75 Maple Street, about how
her name and phone number had been painted by vandals in two foot
letters on side of Jorgy's Diner and Fast Fill, Route 17, advertising
"obscene services" which she "most certainly does not provide,
especially for free." No suspects in this case so far.
Mon Oct. 31 -- Two porta-johnnies were overturned at construction
site, 21 Aurora Lane -- Jason Preener's new Big J Restaurant. No
suspects found at scene.
Mon Oct. 31 -- call from Olivia B. Johnson , 322 Stamford Street about
"suspicious hanky-panky noises" in the alley by her garage. A
flashlight revealed two raccoons in a tipped over garbage can
performing an obscene act upon one another.
Mon Oct. 31 -- call from Attorney Darcy Zieper, 789 South Bromide
Street about someone painting a large purple triangle on her front
door. No suspects found at scene.
Mon Oct. 31 -- call from Judge Madeline Quatremaine, 120 Peach Street
about someone "window peeking" and "probably casing the joint." No
suspects found at scene.
Mon Oct. 31 -- call from Tom Burmeister, Tip-Top-Tap, 242 Court House
Lane. He reported patrons claimed to watch something like "flickering
candlelight" travel from room to room on the third story of the Nodaka
County Court house. A call to Gabe Werny, Night watchman, was made.
No answer. Assistant Deputy Sheriff dispatched to scene. Werny and
undisclosed female (dressed in Elvira costume) found in obscene act on
floor of NoDaka County Historical Society Library. Werny
arrested on spot for indecency on public property. Female fled scene
before arrest could be made.
Mon Oct. 31 -- A dead Hampshire pig corpse was found at the corner of
Peach and Broad Streets. Rotten eggs were smeared on the body, and a
hastily lettered sign that said, "Green Eggs and Ham" attached. Upon
investigation it was learned the corpse had been stolen from the
Farney Pig Farm at #5, Rural Route 6. Several elementary school
children who found the body are in counseling, and cry whenever the
Dr. Seuss classic is mentioned. Any leads on this are appreciated due
to sickness of the prank.
*******************************************************************
L E T T E R S
*******************************************************************
REMINISCENCE OF HALLOWEEN
*******************************************************************
Dear Editor Gunthrie and the People of Parsons,
I'm sure we all appreciated the show put on down at the fire station
on Oct 31st and the dance after. The teens were sure enthusiastic.
My grand daughter, anyway, said that the dance was great and that
"They broke the ban against reggae." And the little kids had their
school window decorations and the school pageant that night, and the
Legion held that costume contest, and a whole bunch of television
programs, I notice, for the shut-ins. All in all there wasn't much
door-to-door to speak of; but, still, any little ones who wanted to
could get loaded up on those M&M's and Snicker bars and caramel corn,
walking round under the street lights hand in hand with their parents.
I suppose it is a small thing, all that candy in the teeth, when we've
got fluoride in the water and no lack of dentists in town these days.
A lot of the older people mention that being free of the general
trouble-making on Halloween is a blessing. As far as they're
concerned a hippie dances, free movies, and bags of store-brought
candy is a small price to pay. Yes, it's an era of treats, not
tricks. But I wonder if we're the better for it.
I can't help but remember Halloweens of old when every outhouse was
fair game, when we'd roof wagons, rotten egg around and create general
havoc. We'd scream bloody murder under bedroom windows, set the dogs
to barking, drag bailing chains over the peaks of houses. The way you
did that is first you'd throw a ball of binder twine over, holding one
end, then the binder twine would drag over your bailing rope,
silently, then the rope would drag the bailing chain. Sometime they
didn't figure out the source of the ungodly sound for quite a while.
There was the flaming burlap on the front porch which, stomped out,
would be discovered to be full of number two. Half the fun was the
gang of you getting round and filling up that burlap. We'd start up
any cars left out and set the spark to a rough idle. We'd remove
loose porch steps (if the folks weren't old). We would scream in the
night in ways it embarrasses me now to think of. We'd roll covers off
cess pools down any likely slope. We would invent gadgets (softwood,
strips of inner tube, springs from here or there) that one blow on the
already set nail could have them to thumping or rat-tatting against
people's house siding. There was lye-soaping screens, too. If it
wasn't washed right off, that would be visible into the following
summer when the screen would slowly fall apart and open like--you'll
excuse me-- an unzipped fly. Our justification of that actual
destruction was that, by late October in Iowa, the storms should have
been up already on any decent house.
And it was not as if householders were defenseless either. I remember
outhouses quietly moved from over their pits and at least one of the
guys falling in. There was the suspended bucket of water which trip-
wire upended just when you were under the eves. There were shotguns
fired off, cursing voices, and--most dread of all--the calling out of
real names. "I know you Johnny Peters, and you too Lyle Bridges!
Don't think I don't!"
Since, in a way, it was neighbor against neighbor during that one
solemn night, and since we'd all been switched many times when little
for more minor acts of devilment and knew right from wrong, it was
kind of a time for getting your values straight. What was fair and
what was just plain malicious? Who was fair game and whose house
should you leave alone (like where the woman with the deformed arm
lived, the deaf boy's house, old man Thompsons, whose wife had just
died, even though he was a pain in the you-know-where). The
standoffish really got it, any household thought to be snooty or
wrapped up in themselves. The vigorous and the cheerful also got it,
but often that was only hee-hawing and some burning newspapers on the
front porch. The purely mean got it.
We weren't much for analysis in those days (like what reasons people
might have for their bad behavior), we just acted on the way you were
and you took the consequences on Halloween. We left the rich streets
alone, we all did, kind of as if they didn't belong. Usually a few
shotguns would go off and that sound really carries in the night and
probably meant you'd have to have a heart-to-heart with your mom
later. So you'd best give her some idea that moral discrimination was
employed in your mischief.
Then there was the morality of what we did not do. Sugar in the gas
tanks, potatoes up the exhaust pipes, disconnecting the propane,
tricks with ignition coils or gunpowder we all knew of, releasing coon
dogs, serious fires, carbide down the main house vent. All these were
just naturally considered out-of-bounds out of consideration for
people's livelihood, mainly, and their lives. But it does kind of
show the potential there is for rebellion if the urge ever does strike
our teenagers all at once, and if right and wrong are not big factors.
Don't mistake me. I'd say we've come a long ways and that a few shows
and dances and other bunches of treats are just fine. But I don't
know, these days, where the kids' sense of power comes from. And
maybe they're less for not having one. It's fine that my grand
daughter can be excited that "They broke the ban against reggae," but
I don't see that giving any boy much satisfaction for very long, and
probably not her either. Her age, they don't go to work as early
these days either. Without either work or a sense that yours is a
hand that withholds destruction, well, where do you get your pride and
your morality? It's a pure contradiction, I suppose, just like so
many things.
Signed,
Lyle Bridges
*******************************************************************
COMMENTS ON THE DEPARTURE OF DUB HUNZIGER
FROM WYNT RADIO
*******************************************************************
Dear Ms. Prudhohn, Gomer and Good People of Parsons:
I feel compelled to write to the M&I since Mr. Dub Hunziger, a former
employee of mine, made the following comments about me in the last
issue (Vol. 4, No. 1 of the Parsons M&I):
"Bathsheba Potterhaus turned out to be a total loon, and WYNT wasn't
paying me near enough money to put up with that crazy lady."
I was shocked and hurt by these comments, since both myself and the
staff of WYNT bent over backwards to try keep our differences with Mr.
Hunziger private, and also worked to accommodate his "quirks." Since
Mr. Hunziger has gone public with our problems, I have decided to
answer his charges of being "a total loon." Also for the public
record, Mr. Hunziger was fired.
Top 5 Reasons Dub Hunziger no longer works for WYNT 99.9 FM Radio
1) Moonlighting: Mr. Hunziger not only worked for WYNT, he
moonlighted at other radio stations in Ames, Des Moines, Sioux City
and was planning to do spots for NPR. He also worked for the Parsons
M&I in a salaried context. His contract with us was supposed to semi-
exclusive. He was constantly late for his required air time with WYNT
and for critical staff meetings at the station.
2) Fights with Mr. Fortunato, WYNT's Programming Director: Mr.
Hunziger constantly fought with Mr. Fortunato about Mr. Fortunato's
programming decisions. While Mr. Hunziger had a right to make
suggestions and comments, many of which were taken, his manner of
approaching Mr. Fortunato was consistently surly, negative and
confrontational.
3) Personal Problems: Mr. Hunziger gave one of this reasons for
leaving WYNT as "... my family situation was a bit strange." I have
known his mother, Berthilde Hunziger, for years. She is a lovely
person, but constantly insisted on using the main switchboard to call
in and have her son paged. I had a private line installed for Dub
along with a voicemail, yet she still insisted on calling the
switchboard. I don't know what was going on between the two of them,
but this disrupted WYNT station operations at least 7-10 times per
day.
4) Salary: Mr. Hunziger was paid enough to make him take the job
with the understanding he would get a substantial raise pending the
results of his 1 year review with WYNT. Mr. Hunziger was not given a
raise because of his review was not a favorable one. He got high
marks for his on-air professionalism, but none for his behavior at the
station.
5) Dating: Mr. Hunziger tried to date me and made other advances
which I considered harassing (sending me suggestive email, painting an
obscene message in my parking space in the WYNT parking lot (we have
him captured on video from the lot surveillance cam for any of those
doubters among you), loud speculations on my personal life after
hours, and making funeral jokes whenever I was in earshot). While he
was an attractive man, he was of a very pedantic and dictatorial
nature. Being of a similar nature, I was, therefore, not attracted to
him. I also have a general policy of not dating employees. Mr.
Hunziger's opinion of himself is evidently so very high that I must be
a "total loon" to have let a prime catch like him escape my nets.
I will also state for the record that those rumors Mr. Hunziger
started about me dating someone 17 years my junior are true. I am
sick of people whispering and giving me strange looks whenever I go
out shopping. Beyond the fact that this person is male, it's nobody
else's damn business.
I am glad Mr. Hunziger found a job where he is his own boss, that is
exactly the environment he needs. I wish him well, I also hope he
stays somewhere else.
Bathsheba M. Potterhaus
Owner WYNT 99.9 FM
*Editor's note: While it would not normally be the M&I's policy to
print a letter that had such potentially slanderous material, my own
experiences with Dub Hunziger here at the M&I were remarkably similar.
With one exception, he never tried to date me. I was very hurt and
surprised to learn of this exclusion.
*******************************************************************
THE BLUFORD REPORT
*******************************************************************
Dear Editor -
Sorry to see such a long hiatus in publication of the paper - the
longer we go between issues, the more I forget that I had planned to
tell you about. I'm getting too old to remember everything, a
chastening experience, let me tell you. However, the past year has
been busy, being 68 doesn't have to mean the end of doing things.
"I went back to Russia this fall" is my biggest news. I met with
architects, businessmen, government people, journalists, and all kinds
of workers. I will be bringing a young Russian couple to live with me
on 1 January. - Boris and Natasha Yaramazov. He's a phyicist-turned-
businessman, she is a former physics student/artist. They have two
daughters, Genya and Liza. We are going to do some farming and horse-
raising together, and pursue an international importing business too
- bringing Russian shawls, clothing, hats, ceramics, books (in
English!), jewelry, glassware, matrushkas (nested dolls) and Russian
chess sets to a wholesale market in the States. Iowa is pretty
centrally located, and we have tie-ins to Russian friends in KC and
Chicago to do some more things. I guess you're never too old to start
something new! So, I hope you'll welcome this thirtyosh couple and
their children.
Boris speaks the best English, knows how to drive a car, and will fit
in fairly well. Natasha, who speaks limited English, and the
children, who speak none, will need our best Iowan understanding,
patience and warmth - the US will be alien for them for awhile, but if
you welcome these citizens-to-be within our communiity, I and they
will be eternally grateful.
I understand that an article in the M & I forthcoming asks how much
land I own, and I had to think about that and the peripheral question
of how I'd feel if the Mesquakie Cultural Center was next door to me.
I couldn't exactly recall how much land I had, 1/3 of which I've not
set foot on in five years, I had to look it up - 320 acres. Half of
it is forest land, 20 acres are berry brambles, a pond out there has a
couple acres around it, plus the house and outbuildings take up 15
acres, what with the disposable tree lot (for house firewood) in the
back of the house property. Bill laid in 2 cords for the winter,
though he's been hobbling a bit this fall on nippy nights.
On the Mesquakie - I have always been an admirer and student of Native
American history, and have always gotten along with Indians by giving
them respect for being the real "first Americans." I know a few
Mesquakie, though not the current chief, and I would not feel
threatened in any way by the planned Cultural Center. If gambling
were to be a part of this, I might think a bit about it, as I really
don't want that element around the place, makes me nervous. But, I am
not at all hostile to the Cultural Center plan, and welcome the
Mesquakie to the neighborhood.
I keep reading, learning about business things, and reading lots of
Russian history, from accounts of the whole time to a new account of
the 1991 "coup" attempt. I look at more art. While I was in Russia,
I saw a show of "Soviet Realism: 1920-1930," and a full show of Ilya
Repin, plus a two hour tour of the Hermitage Museum while in St.
Petersburg (I saw 24 Rembrandts in one room! Very nice).
Bill handled the berrying and canning this year, said it gave him
something to do while I was away in August-September. Blackberries
were particular good, raspberries too, strawberries weren't so good
(not enough water? not sure), and we didn't get many melons this year.
Fall came late here, as it did in western Russia this year too. Bill
reported that he didn't do the roadside stand this year, but continued
expanding sending jams and jellies to stores - I think he said 7 towns
or so around here. It's his baby now, so if you want some great jam
or jelly, call Bill out here at the farm.
I am going to be travelling a bit this coming year, hauling samples
around to US trade fairs. There are about 7 around the nation, so I'm
hoping I can get our operation going full tilt by June. I also will
go back to Moscow for two weeks in May, to do purchasing, and to visit
with many new Russian friends.
Your neighbor,
feeling younger than he ought to,
George Bluford
*******************************************************************
A HEROES MEDAL FOR NESTOR?
*******************************************************************
To the editor:
K, well, right now I'm basically a junior gopher at the PM&I. But
I'm learning to be a reporter, right? So a reporter has to tell
the truth, has to give the facts, has to dig out the who what when
where why (Polly taught me those), has to spell the names accurately
(Gommer taught me that one), has to scoop the competition, has to let
nothing stand in the way of telling the *story*. I'm learning that
stuff, I am.
But this is the part I still have trouble with. When do you tell
the story, and when do you just keep it to yourself?
I would have never even thought about writing what happened to me
this past Halloween, but then Yvonne Gerhardt called me in the
middle of the night, she was sobbing again, she said she knew all
along the truth had to come out, she wanted the story told now, she
said the lies and cover-up could not go on any longer. And she
said, she's in therapy, Ezekiel's happy and healthy, she's closer
to God than she's ever been, and she's just gonna put her trust.
That was exactly what she said, "I'm gonna put my trust." Period.
So, she asked me to tell this, and here it is.
Halloween. I'm not at a party. I've got no costume. Father
Herlihy's got me on my community service duty in the Tot Room at
Our Lady of Infinite Plains church. (By the way, my community service
hours are up now, but I decided I kind of liked it, so I'm still
taking care of the little ones during Thursday and Friday evening
masses.) My concession to the festive holiday is: I'm wearing
mascara. None of the tots are taking any notice, believe me.
I'm supposed to be off at 10:30, and at 11:08 it's still me, my pet
pig Nestor, and three-year-old Ezekiel Joshua Gerhardt, who's awake
and energetic and riding on Nestor's back, pounding with his little
fists and laughing happily. I'm none too pleased because I've
missed MTV Prime with Idalis, and, you know, Alternative Nation is
starting, and Ezekiel is not providing any conversation that's
compelling enough to make me feel completely delighted about that.
So I beckon to Nestor, and we waddle, okay, no, well, he waddles and I
walk, across the narthex.
The place is looking pretty empty. Father Herlihy's office light is
on under the door, and we all stand at it a while, Ezekiel giggling
this high-pitched little muttering giggle, until finally the Father
opens the door and looks out. "Cynthia?" he says.
"Father, is Ezekiel's mom with you?"
"Why no, Cynthia! I didn't see her at Mass." He bends down and looks
Ezekiel right in the eye.
"Well dang it! Excuse me," I mutter. "What's her name? I'll call
her."
"It's Yvonne Gerhardt--you know her. She's the checker at the Piggly
Wiggly."
"Oh yeah, she's always wearing you know! Polyester shirts with
beige, brown and orange plaid skirts."
Father Herlihy looks at me strange and says "Yes, well."
So, we call around a long while and there's no sign of her, and the
Father calls Yvonne's father, who is a preacher over in Ames I guess
or something, and this conversation does not proceed very well,
because Father H. is not getting a word in edgewise, and his face is
turning red like the bloody vampire teeth my cousin Charles Lee Wryock
was wearing tonight. Finally Ezekiel starts to looking pretty worn
out, and he falls off Nestor's back but is too tired to even cry.
"Father, I'll take Ezekiel home with me and put him to bed, and you
just send his mom on over to get him whenever, okay?"
The Father's pretty dubious about that, but I give him the old 4-H
Fair Pork Queen trust-me smile, and he rustles up a baby seat from
some back room. We strap it into the old Toyota beater and in a
couple minutes Zekey and I are at the house.
I immediately sit down exhausted in the kitchen, turn on the MTV, and
just stare into it. Ezekiel, I just brought him in right in that
seat, he's snoozing away.
After a minute my dang cousin Charles Lee comes downstairs, and he
walks right through the room without a word to me, looks at the
baby, stomps off in those big ugly Redwing boots into the next room,
and picks up his Stratocaster. He plugs it in and starts singing.
He's singing this way old Georgia Satellites song, "Don't Feed Me No
Lines and Keep Your Hands To Yourself." I mean, ugh!
At this point Ezekiel wakes up and starts fretting of course. I give
him a little applesauce and Charles Lee is playing what's got to be
the most awful guitar solo that was ever devised in rock _or_ country
music, and Nestor is squealing from his pen, I can hear him, and now
Zeke starts in to crying.
So hey, what would you do? I gave the baby a sauce pan and a wooden
spoon, of course. It's about 14 seconds for Charles Lee to storm into
the kitchen yelling "What's that racket?"
"Well now, if that's just about what I was just about to ask you," I
tell him. "You start playing that stupid song while I'm trying to
watch Real World." Ezekiel whangs on the pan, and I'm watching him
and not paying any attention to Charles Lee ranting at me, and so
Charles Lee goes on ahead and stalks out the back door.
And now the doorbell's ringing, so I take on up and carry Zekey with
me and answer it, and there's the Piggly Wiggly checker, only she's
got on an Elvira outfit, and it's actually looking quite a bit more
torn than it seems like it ought to. The fishnet stockings have a
huge rip in them, and the dark rouge on her face is way bad smeared,
and Yvonne is not standing upright at all, she's leaning hard against
the doorpost. And as soon as I open the door she falls down.
I look her over, trying to decide whether she's conscious or not, when
suddenly I see Nestor go tearing across the front yard. Charles Lee's
chasing after him banging on that same pot that Zeke had a minute ago,
scaring the dickens out of him, and Nestor wails squealing off into
the night.
"Charles Lee, you gol dang butt ugly bull head freak!" I yell, or some
kind of words to that effect, apologies for the language but news is
not always pretty. And I admit it, I just tore off after them,
because I love my pretty piggy and I won't see anybody abusing him,
family or no, whatever.
It's only a few minutes, maybe five or so, and I'm back to get the
car, because Nestor's off somewhere down the reservoir road now.
Yvonne and Zeke, and the car seat, are gone. I throw up my hands and
hurry inside and call her house, but it just rings, so I think, I'll
get Nestor first, then she'll have time to get home and I'll go check
on her.
So I'm in the old Toyota, poking down reservoir road in first gear,
watching off on both sides for hog flesh, listening for his cute
little grunt. And there's not a sign, and I'm getting ready to get
set to commence to crying, and it's way past 1 AM when I finally
get to the dam, and then this is what's straight ahead of me on the
other side of the parking lot: Yvonne Gerhardt's little red Geo
Prizm is sitting at the top of the boat ramp, nose pointing down, just
sitting there, and then suddenly it jerks forward a few inches, and
then it stops again.
I rear back the emergency brake and jump out of the car and run over
there, yelling "Stop! Hey! Wait!" And Yvonne stops, hey, waits for
me. And I run over there, grab onto her driver's side window, panting
out of breath, and there's Ezekiel asleep in his car seat on the
passenger side, and Yvonne's face is streaked with tears, and she just
sits there in the dark, looking straight ahead.
"Could you move him?" she says, tilting her head forward, sobbing.
And I turn my head to look down the ramp.
And there's my little piggie hero Nestor, face beaming and eyes bright
in the beam of the headlights, laying straight across the middle of
the ramp, blithely blocking the road.
I wish I could give that hog a medal, I really do.
Cynthia Marston Haggart
PM&I Junior Gopher, Level II
Former 4-H Fair Pork Queen
*******************************************************************
LIZZIE'S DONUT EMPORIUM TO OFFER PRIZE
*******************************************************************
Dear Parsons M&I:
Lizzie says I have to write this because you printed my last letter.
She says people read your paper. I am a waitress at Lizzie's Donut
Emporium which is why I have to do what Lizzie says.
Lizzie has a box of day-old double-chocolate fudge donuts filled with
chocolate cream custard and topped with colored jimmies to the winner
in her contest. I guess your secretary didn't stop by for lunch or
something.
Lizzie thought about what to do for a contest for at least five
minutes, so please don't laugh or she will be upset.
The contest is simple. Take a custard cream filled donut outside the
front door and squeeze it. You have to be standing on the sidewalk in
front of Lizzie's and you have to tell us you're going to do it. Oh,
and you have to buy the donut, too.
Whoever makes the custard fly the farthest when the donut pops will
win.
I have already told Lizzie that I think this is a silly idea, even if
she did accidentally order ten times as much custard cream as we ever
have used. I think it is beginning to smell in the back room, but she
says I must be catching a cold.
I have also told her that I don't do windows.
She says the town dogs do.
Lizzie says I have to get back to work, but she wants you to hurry
down to Lizzie's Donut Emporium and get in on the contest now. Tell
them Lizzie sent you.
Thank you.
Henrietta Alberston
Lizzie's Main Squeeze
*******************************************************************
A COMPLAINT ABOUT CYNTHIA MARSTON HAGGART
*******************************************************************
Dear Ms. Prudhohn:
I am a devoted reader of the Parsons M&I and due truly appreciate the
changes your presence has brought to the paper. However, I must
protest the following which was printed in the last issue and formerly
lodge a complaint about the behavior of Cynthia Marston Haggart,
Parsons M&I Staff Gopher:
"... we raced across town to the emergency room at Our Lady of
Infinite Plains Hospital. Well, I want to tell you, they wouldn't
even let us through the big double doors there. That nurse who
laughed at me: I just hope you never do anything newsworthy, lady,
because I will tear you to shreds in print."
I am the nurse that laughed, and I don't take kindly to threats,
especially from the likes of Cynthia, Charles Lee Wryock, James
Marston or Lara Staggemeir, when they are dead drunk and toting a hog.
I also don't like someone with journalistic pretensions using the
paper to work out her own vendettas.
Our Lady of Infinite Plains emergency room was busy that night: two
motorcycle accidents: one person with serious head trauma and the
other with a compound leg fracture, and a two year-old with an asthma
attack so serious her parents had to bring her in and put her on a
respirator. Imagine all this going on with just a staff of five
available, and then Cynthia, et. al stumble in, demanding care for
her porker. The absurdity of it all made me laugh.
Anyone who knows anything about pigs could see that all that was wrong
with Nestor was a wicked case of gas. Hell, my cat gets the same look
every on its face every time it woofs up a hair ball. And from
reading her letter, I know I am right! The damn hog hurled and was
just fine in the end.
If it makes Cynthia feel better, I called Dr. Goodhardt and told him
about Nestor's symptoms. The vet has cellular phone and always
carries it with him, and if you bother to call the clinic's number,
the call is automatically forwarded. The vet said I was right. I
tried to find the kids after my shift ended, but by then they were
probably sleeping it off somewhere or "doing the nasty" up on lover's
lane.
I have the following comments to make regarding Cynthia Marston
Haggart, Charles Lee Wryock, James Marston and Lara Staggemeir
since Cynthia neglected to relate the various names (pertaining to my
sexual orientation, private parts, and family inter-relationships)
which they called me at the Emergency Room In-Take Desk:
Cynthia Marston Haggart is basically a good kid, and a pretty girl
(anyone who wins the coveted Pork Queen Crown usually is -- though if
she and Lara keep drinking so much beer their behinds aren't going to
stay so perky). She needs to clean up her act and apply herself, and
she can probably go pretty far in this life. Remember Cynthia: you
have one year of high school left, try to get some other grades
besides C- this year.
Charles and James have both graduated from high school and appear to
be hanging around, searching for something to do. I heard Charles
play that stratocaster of his a couple of times. He wasn't half-bad.
Maybe if he really goes for it, he could make it in Nashville. You
should try to get the money together to fix your front teeth though,
unless you plan to use the stage name of "Bucky Lee Wryock."
I don't know anything about James Marston except that he sure does
seem to like dating women he's related to: Cynthia **is** his second
cousin (there is no "removal" on his mother's side), and Celeste
Farney is his fourth cousin. Word of advice for James: expand your
dating horizons, otherwise your children maybe pug-nosed and near-
sighted just like you, and pie-eyed to boot (if you wind up hitched to
Celeste). Read some genetics, especially the parts about lethal
recessives. James is a real virtuoso of the 4-letter epithet,
however. Next time he accuses someone else of having "relations" with
family members, he should perhaps look at this own checkered dating
history.
As for Lara Staggemeir, at least she's in Parsons Community College,
taking classes toward an Associate's Degree. Lara, don't think you
fooled anyone with all your stake-out garbage, etc. on the Farney Pig
Farm with James. Everybody knows you have been trying to get him to
date you for years, and so far all you've gotten is a couple of "quick
ones" when he was too drunk to care. You're a pretty girl. You can
do better than him. Try applying to Drake or UI at Ames next year,
and get that perky butt of yours out of Parsons and see the world. If
you still insist on being hung up on this chump, point out some way
you may be related to him. I hear that really gets his iron fired.
Special note to Sheriff Earl Watkins: pick-up these kids once in
awhile for drunk and disorderly will you?
Sincerely,
Dale Anne Hoffman, R.N., B.S.N.
Staff Nurse
Our Lady of Infinite Plains Hospital
*******************************************************************
NOTES FROM THE HOME
*******************************************************************
To the editor and somebody else,
Did you hear who won the crocket finals out here at the home? I'll
give you a hint, they buried her the next day, along with her hammer.
Darn fool would not listen when I told her not to hurry, slow and
steady turtles always beat the rabbit in the cartoons. Oh, well, at
least Dr. Kerries' pants won't get near as damp now.
So, let me ask you, have you ever heard of cows-cows? They tried to
feed us that last week, and we all said it looked like something we'd
feed the cows, and it didn't have much taste. We didn't think we'd
like it at all.
Then we found out how good it was for making sculptures in your plate,
and for throwing, and we asked for it.
Now they say we can't have it anymore. Why, we didn't even get a
chance to fill any of the nurses' lockers with it, like we did with
the spaghetti that time. It just doesn't seem fair that we can't have
food we like out here.
Let's see. We forget to let Dr. Andrews out of the closet for a
couple of days, and he was real upset when he got out. He yelled so
loud that we tied him up and gagged him when we put him in the closet
again. That boy has to learn some manners somehow.
Oh,yes. Tell the youngsters in the red car that parks on 3rd Street
that a little preparation-H will help that rash. Mr. Hallie says you
have to expect that when you try those foreign guides to sex. But
don't worry, you managed it somehow.
See you next time you're out here, if you ever come out. Don't expect
I'll be in to see you unless I'm wearing a pine box.
James Sandferry,
92 years or so old
Always looking for the light
shining through thin blouses.
*******************************************************************
THE BVM'S FACE SEEN IN PARSONS:
DON'T BELIEVE WHAT
YOU HEAR
*******************************************************************
To the Editor:
It seems like folks in Parsons don't need to be copy-cats and could
come up with something more original. What I'm referring to
exactly is this Virgin Mary business. Course she's popping up all
round but this newest sighting down the road is just happened since
she's shut of that place in Georgia.
Now I know Maybell Brackwater is off, she's been off since that pig
incident. The one that was supposed to be barbecued for the election
campaign for that ill-fated fellow from California moved here when his
Iowa- borne wife got smart and insisted they move back to corn country
from corny country and he ran for the state legislature of which none
of the god-fearing native-borns would take a chance on electing a
foreigner especially after him making such a golldarn fool of hisself
chasing that hog over half the country side, well, it was right funny
that Lester and some of the boys told him you couldn't barbecue no pig
proper without first greasing him down good.
But anyway, back to this Catholic Mary business, she Maybell that is,
had full right to be upset about that hog running through the pear
orchard during her wedding ceremony and especially about him plum
knocking her down and tromping on that white gown which with her
reputation in high school it's pretty clear white was not her color,
but that wasn't what really set her off, what really set her off was
that that son of hers, born pre-maturely, mind you, had a snort on him
suspiciously like that very pig.
Now, everyone knows that women in the family way, not that I'm saying
Maybell was in that condition at the time understand, but it's a known
fact, according to wisdom passed down, that if you look at a cross-
eyed someone your baby will be cross-eyed, which is just a way of
saying they's lots of things that can affect a young'un. There's some
mighty strange goings on and people are getting stranger and stranger
all the time, so it seems right probable that that old wife's tale is
true. And speaking of Maybell's condition, I don't think she was
right when we was young'uns playing and she always wanted to be the
one to get tied up. But that's neither here nor there.
Now Maybell is saying the Virgin Mary's face is appearing in the oak
tree right outside her bathroom window. I don't know why anyone would
want to be seeing anybody's face while they were doing their business
but that's what she's claiming. So far Mary hasn't said anything but
I believe Maybell is setting up for some more of her predictions.
Ever since that time in July back in '64 when she predicted something
bad was going to happen and we had that freak hail storm and 6 cows
got knocked in the head and died, she's just been waiting for
something else to predict.
I'm asking everyone reading this letter to tell everyone who ain't to
please not encourage Maybell Brackwater. We don't need thousands of
people coming from all over the country to see the Virgin Mary's face
in a tree outside Maybell Brackwater's bathroom.
Sincerely,
Ruth-Anne Blooms
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F E A T U R E S
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POLLY'S PERCH: THE GREAT FANNY CRISIS
Two problems facing the Arts in Parsons, IA
*******************************************************************
This article is about two very different things: lawn ornaments and
the nude life drawing class at Parsons Community College. Both topics
are generating a lot of local controversy, and both either directly or
indirectly, involve the word "fanny."
Great Fanny Crisis #1:
Locally lots of people have statuary on their front lawns and in
their gardens. This statuary runs the gamut from some original
marbles done in the style of Henry Moore and "cast stone" replicas
of Renaissance figures to pink flamingoes, garden gnomes, lawn jockeys
and fannys. To those uninitiated into the finer appreciation of the
American awn art style, "a fanny" is a flat wooden cut -out of a woman
with a generous bottom (thankfully wearing polka-dotted bloomers with
striped stockings) bending over. It is at best, mildly amusing, and
at the worst, an insult to the female sex and to those with
unfortunate taste in undergarments.
The crisis with these particular fannys in Parsons is that someone is
stealing them. Deputy Sheriff Earl Watkins has received no less than
15 complaints of people whose fannys are missing. "Those damn kids do
something like this every year," Watkins complained to me in a phone
interview. "One year it was flamingoes, another time lawn jockeys.
Hell, one Christmas, they were taking the baby Jesus out of every
single creche in town."
This time of year with the withering plants and without the sheltering
of lush vegetation, the fannys in all their red and white polka-dotted
splendor suddenly became more obvious, and, therefore, easier targets
for teenage fascination and vandalism.
"I just don't know why anyone would want my fanny," said Olivia B.
Johnson. "It isn't worth anything to anybody else. My brother-in-
law, Thor, made it with his scroll saw for my Christmas gift last year
and my sister, Thelma, painted it. Such harmless little thing... it
reminds me of my grandma, Gladys, and how she liked to work in her
garden."
I, for one, have never understood the need to put up any kind of
statuary in a garden or on a lawn. The green fullness of plants and
splendor of flowers seems enough somehow. I personally find most
local lawn art incredibly ugly or in questionable taste, but I would
never begrudge anyone the right have a fanny, a flamingo or what-have-
you on their property. I have noticed with some satisfaction,
however, the great decline in lawn jockeys. I have heard the story
about how when Carter Reagan first moved into the old Grovesner
Mansion, one of the first things he did was to paint the lawn jockey's
face white. This simple act showed his wry wit, and made it very
clear he understood he was one of the five black people who can claim
to be full-time residents of Parsons.
"I like my fanny," Mildred Swithers said when I called her to inquire
about her loss. "I bought it when I was in vacation in Kansas last
summer. It's funny. People do a double-take. They think someone
with a big butt is really bending over to pick something up."
To Mrs. Swithers, Miss Johnson and the thirteen others mourning the
the loss of their fannys, all I can say is, "I hope Deputy Watkins
finds your fannys soon and returns them to you. But next year, please
put them in your back yards where they will be safer and less obvious
to those of us driving by."
To those involved in the theft of the fannys, I would like to say, "I
sort of understand why you did it, striking a blow for art, good
taste, etc., in a single act, but please remember those fannys have
sentimental value, and a fanny is, after all, always happiest sitting
in its own yard."
Great Fanny Crisis #2:
The difference between nude and naked has been debated for centuries.
A journalist friend of mine in Boston contends the difference between
nude and naked is a matter of intention. When you have no clothes on
and intend to be seen this way, are doing it to be photographed or for
the purpose of making art, etc. you are nude. When you don't want to
be seen, and someone sees you -- that's naked (i.e. Senator Packwood,
Jerry Falwell, or the miscreant of your choice without pants at a
Motel 6).
Locally this issue of nude vs. naked is being hotly debated at Parsons
Community College, and a temporary injunction for indecent exposure
has stopped a life drawing class being taught by Laura Fish
Thirtyacre.
"I really don't see what the problem is, " Thirtyacre said. "It was
clearly stated that there would be a nude model in this class for the
purposes of studying anatomy. The first day of class, I stated it
again, and no one under 18 years of age was allowed to take this
class. Local "Moral Majority" idiots like Jordan Rivers of the Open
Bible Fellowship and George Stonebrake are the ones behind this. This
whole thing isn't about nudity at all, its about my politics. If they
want to picket and protest the content of my work at a gallery
opening, that's one thing, but they have no business sticking their
nose into how I teach my classes."
Laura Fish Thirtyacre is a Native American Artist. Her work has been
featured around in galleries across the United States and is well
known for its satirical and political content (example: "Helipad
Hello", oil on canvas, 9 ft. by 14 ft., where naked Reagans meet naked
Gorbachevs near a helicopter on a White House lawn).
"I get the inspiration for my work from all those old paintings early
explorers did of native peoples show they could show the "naked
savages" to the folks back home. It still goes on in National
Geographic," Thirtyacre relates. "So I thought what if we turn the
tables, what if the native paints the whiteman? How would that look?
I thought it was only fair after five hundred years of hostile
occupation."
"It looks disrespectful and dirty, that's how it looks!" George
Stonebrake told me in a telephone interview. "A modest woman like
Nancy Reagan would never strut across the White House lawn in the
altogether to meet some buck-naked Rooskie premier and his Mrs. I
won't even discuss what she did to our former President."*
"Amen to that," interjected Rev. Rivers (they were on a speaker
phone). "And that painting was not an isolated incident. She painted
Billy Graham, Jerry Falwell, Oral Roberts in their birthday suits, and
called it "Nearer My God to Thee." That was like blaspheming four
times: three men of the cloth without a stitch on and then making fun
of a great old Christian standard hymn to boot. That woman has to be
censored."
"It's not that any of these people actually posed for me," Thirtyacre
laughed. "Everything from the neck down is conjecture, and an
educated guess based on photographs. Mr. Graham looks splendid for a
man his age, and I was particularly kind to Mr. Roberts considering
his record, and Mr. Falwell's paunch is at least two inches smaller in
my painting that I believe it to be in real life. You'll notice
Rivers and Stonebrake neglected to mention the "Bag Over His/Her Head"
series I did featuring naked Native Americans. It's OK to paint nudes
as long as 'stick to your own kind.' "
The injunction was brought by Beatrice Arracuda representing Rivers
and Stonebrake's newly formed organization, "People Of Parsons
Opposing Nakedness" (POPON), whose membership roster so numbers 20.
Judge Matilda C. Quatremaine will decide this case, and the fate of
Thirtyacre's drawing class next Wednesday.
"I was just trying to teach the kids at Parsons CC good drawing
technique," Thirtyacre pleads. "People like Rivers and Stonebrake
complained a couple of years ago about all the "useless abstract art"
that was being produced by the Art Dept. and I was hired to bring back
classical techniques and realism. Now this happens. Don't those two
have anything better to do with their time? The next person hired to
teach art here will probably be named Thag and his medium burned
timber and berry juice on cave walls."
* Editor's note: While Mr. Stonebrake declined to discuss Ms.
Thirtyacre's representation of the former President Reagan, it should
be noted for those who have not have the opportunity to see the work
that Ms. Thirtyacre has depicted Mr. Reagan with an affliction called
"penile atrophy."
*******************************************************************
TWO VIEWS
Advice from Dr. Erica Phoebus, Ph.D., Psychology, Practicing Sex
Therapist, and Ms. Faye East, retired Bordello Madam.
*******************************************************************
All questions concerning any areas of your life affected by the
erogenous zones are welcome. Maps available, send $2.50, allow
four to six weeks in coming.
Dear Dr. Phoebus: I have a problem of a rather delicate nature
and from this disclosure emerges the reason for me writing to your
column anonymously. I live in a region of the country (to remain
un-named to further protect my identity) where, I shall allude to an
attitude of religious repression and stark prejudice against people of
color and people of alternate sexual preference. To further protect
my identity, I will not reveal ethnic backgrounds of either myself or
the significant other in this most uncomfortable relationship in
which I find myself. I do consider myself duty-bound to exhibit
proper morale behavior and am a professional person and have many
acquaintances in the secular and Christian communities. Herein lies
my moral and traditional dilemma. It goes without saying that while
celibate, I am most decidedly heterosexual. However, I am in a most
dire straight at the moment. Somehow, through an act of God, totally
beyond my control, I was literally thrown into an entanglement with a
person of my same gender. At first I was appalled, actually repulsed,
damn disgusted if you must know. I don't know how it could have
happened. I told myself that it was only once and never again, but
each time I see her silken skin and gray eyes with those unreal
(really unreal, fake) eyelashes and that hour-glass waist and round,
voluptuous half moon of fleshy buttocks ... well, this simply cannot
go on. Lust rules my days and tortures my nights. When she walks in
the room I rip at my clothes and spital splotches the air. What do
you suggest I do? Frustrated.
Dear Frustrated: It is often human nature to avoid dealing with
issues by making them taboo. This serves to provide a pattern for
living but does nothing to resolve conflict. Perhaps you need to
examine yourself in a more holistic manner, seeing yourself as a
both spiritual and human with normal human desires and needs.
Recognizing needs does not necessarily mean acting on them,
however. There are many outlets for sexual tension, such as
hobbies, clubs and social groups. I would suggest that you begin to
fill your social life more completely and perhaps exercise some
discipline measures in relation to the unseemly behavior you have
undertaken. If the identity of your affection should get out, her
career could be severely damaged and I will get a lawyer. Dr. Phoebus
Dear Frustrated, why tempt fate? How many times does pure, raw
sexual pleasure grab you and say "go for the gusto?" Besides, didn't
know ole plump butt could get such a rise! Faye
*******************************************************************
P U B L I C A N N O U N C E M E N T S
FREE
County Road crew says theres plenty of free rock and fill dirt
available at the far end of the County Fairgrounds.
FIRST NOTICE:
Project bids for a secondary access road into Cabbage Ridge are due in
the County Engineers department by January 15th.
PERMIT GRANTED
The mayors office announced granting of a conditional use permit for
a family housing unit above the Writely Yours shop.
MAYOR'S OFFICE
The mayors office will be closed for normal business from Dec 21, 1994
thru Jan 2, 1995.
NEW NIGHT WATCHMAN NEEDED
A new night watchman is needed for the Nodaka County Courthouse. Pay
for this position is $5-$7.50/hour. Applications are being accepted
between 9-5pm, M-F. Please call Clerk of Court for more information.
Apply in person with references. Clean police record and common sense
required.
*******************************************************************
P E R S O N A L S
Somewhat temperamental ex-football-star, late 30s, seeks blonde babe
for mild SM/BD. Much nicer than tabloid reputation suggests. No
gloves, knives, DNA specialists, or lawyers. Absolutely no white Ford
Broncos.
Reply to: Orange Juice, c/o M&I, Box 1313.
SWM seeks SF/DF/WF for TLC ASAP.
Reply to: Single, c/o M&I, Box 35.
"Born to Run" SWM (NJ boy) seeks "Wendy" to wrap legs around his
engines. You know, tramps like us, baby...
Reply to: Jersey Boy, c/o M&I, Box 2.
Lusty, cocky-doody mouthed bad girl, 24, seeks nice young, Luther
league SWM type to corrupt. Let me tarnish your reputation.
Reply to: Lusty Wench, c/o M&I, Box 45.
Born-again DWM, 40, seeks Christian SWF, 18-25, for marriage. Let us
be fruitful, and multiply...
Reply to: Fruitful, c/o M&I, Box 23
Neo-pagan priest, SWM, 29, seeks neo-pagan priestess, any race, 21-39.
Skyclad cult, goats used in rituals, sincere replies only. No thrill
seekers or cameras permitted. This is the second time I've run this
ad. If you have an allergy to goats, please do not respond.
Reply to: Cult Leader, c/o M&I, Box 34
Wilbur, found the riding crop and stirrups. Need you to polish saddle
horn. Come home. I shall try to bridle my passion until then. Love,
sugar cubes & big horsey kisses, Ed.
Reply to: Ride-me-the-way-you-used-to, c/o M&I, Box 11
*******************************************************************
P A R S O N S M & I C O N T R I B U T O R S
v 4 , n 2
Lara Staggemeir, Bathsheba Potterhaus, Polly Prudhohn,
Laura Fish Thirtyacre, Bill Bladt*,
Asst. Deputy Sheriff Hansel Tubteroff,**
Big Pete Mieberman, Ralph Jorgensen, Clinton One Fox,
Elijah Bradford, Mildred Swithers, James Marston, Glendon Thorinsson,
Attorney Darcy Zieper, Judge Madeline Quatremaine, Tom Burmeister,
Gabe Werny and Dale Anne Hoffman, R.N., and also
Editor for this issue......
Pamela Marin-Kingsley (
[email protected])
Henry Todd Sweeney, Jason Fleece,
Herkimer Gerold-James, Sally Fredericks,
Jessie-Sue Anderson, Henrietta Albertson
Drs. Kerrie and Andrews, and James Sandferry......
Mike Barker (
[email protected])
Eugene James, The Cabbage Ridge Neighborhood:
Bill Newton, Robbie Williams, Jim Duncan, John Watson,
Lee Seekatz, Edwin Parker, Richar A. Brother, and
WRITELY YOURS Prop., Jim Duncan......
Jim Duncan (
[email protected])
Knute Latissimus, Buck O'Brien, Coach Crabtree,
Scott Farney, and Sven Sundquist ......
Rob Christiano (
[email protected])
Dr. Phoebus and Faye East, Ruth-Anne Blooms,
and Maybell Brackwater......
Elizabeth Pape (
[email protected])
Josh Meadows, Cynthia Marston Haggart, Madeline Egert,
Charles Lee Wyrock, Volunteer Fire Chief Bob Bill "Chuck" Rob,
Fleegle, Nestor the Wonder Pig, Ezekiel Gerhardt,
Father Herlihy and Dr. Goodhardt......
John Bowers (
[email protected])
Lyle Bridges......
Jim Coleman (
[email protected])
George Bluford and Dub Hunziger......
Valentine Smith (
[email protected])
Yvonne Gerhardt......
Ronda Sly (
[email protected])
* The character of Bill Bladt was suggested by a business Goats
Unlimited created by Ken Kousen in a previous issue of the M&I, I have
merely "fleshed him out."
**Jim Duncan also contributed items to Deputy Tubteroff's Report.
Characters created by others who were mentioned, but who did not
contribute directly to this issue:
R.J. Selkirk .......
R. Allen Jervis (
[email protected])
Gomer Gunthrie .......
Kenneth A. Kousen (
[email protected])
George Stonebrake, Jordan Rivers, and
Deputy Earl Watkins .......
David J. Loftus (
[email protected])
"Personals" authors are, of course, anonymous
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
Brief quotations may be used in critical articles or reviews. For any
other reproduction of _The Parsons Messenger and Intelligencer_,
however, including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
any other means, permission must be obtained from the author(s).
The views expressed in _The Parsons Messenger and Intelligencer_ are
those of the individual authors and may not reflect those of the
subscribers to
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This notice must remain as part of this publication for any
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