Mumford Pickens is getting too political
By Clet Litter as told
to Bob Simpson
I reckon we might have to stop Mumford Pickens from posting his comments. He’s getting a little too political. This ain’t good for him. If the guvernment notices him, they’re gonna come snooping around, and that won’t be easy on a producer of fine untaxed whiskey. It’s not good for the town folk neither, cause we’ll have to go back to sipping the expensive guvernment sponsored hooch.
So, this could be Mumford Pickens final comment for a while till we figure out a loophole for the tax problem. Mumford says, “This country has a syndrome called No Attention to the Deficit Problem.”
Here’s a conversation recorded at Ouachita River Correctional Unit between two cellmates. Fish is asking for advice from Lifer about whether to take a plea deal offered by the district attorney. Lifer points up toward the ceiling, “You gotta ask the big guy.”
Fish asks, “Like the warden?”
“No, even higher.”
Fish says, “You’re saying that I should ask the governor?” Lifer shakes his head no. He points up.
“You don’t mean … you think I oughta ask the very president of these United States for a suggestion?” Lifer points up again.
“Ok, now I understand, you want I should talk to Bill Gates.”
Lifer says, “Yes.”
Old Man Grimely at the barbershop told Tony, “All my grandchildren grew up and moved away. I’ve got three grandchildren … that I know of.” It got a right sizable laugh. That joke ain’t suitable for at least half of the town folk. It’s more of a barbershop thing.
Jimmy Suspenders was feeling a might depressed. He said, “My wife, Sara, isn’t spending any time with me anymore. She’s always outside working in the garden or chatting with the pool boy.”
I sez, “Don’t worry. She’s probably glad to finally be able to get out of the house after the cold winter we had. Sara will come around.”
“Yeah. I just wish she wouldn’t chat up the pool boy so much.”
“Jimmy, I didn’t realize you put in a pool. It’s okay if you didn’t invite me over. I have my own pond with a lot of shade trees. The hogs like it too, cause they can get out of the sun and I don’t have to keep putting sunscreen lotion on em. The bacon tasted like Aloe. So, I’m okay at my house to enjoy a fresh swim. I don’t need your place to cool off and relax.”
Jimmy apologized, “That’s not why you haven’t been invited to swim. The reason I’m so concerned with Sara is that we have a pool boy, but we don’t have a pool.”
Here’s Morton Trubletoof’s take on a recent discovery, “I found an onion in my shorts pocket. It musta been a Bermuda onion.”
If you thought the last one was bad. This is worse. “My name is Sweater. My sister is Doily. Grand pappy’s name is Al B. Darn. Mamma’s sister was Aunt Purl. We’re a real close-knit family.”
“What’s your mamma’s name?”
Contact at Bobsimpson1947@yahoo.com. You know you wanna.