A fictional political fable.
( I had a dream in which Uncle Remus told me…and Joel Chandler Harris, this wild story about the terrorists and Uncle Sam. My acknowledgements, as well as my compliments to Georgia's esteemed Mr. Harris.)
"Didn't Uncle Sam ever get the terrorists, Mistah Remus?" asked the little boy, one fine evening. "Well, Uncle Sam, he come mighty nigh on to it, honey, sho's you born-he sho nuf did!
One day…atter dose terrorists fool 'im wid dat 911 idea, Uncle Sam…he went to work. He got 'im some tar, and mixed it wid some of dat superglue, and Uncle Sam fix up a doohicky, what he call a Tar-Baby! Uncle Sam, he tuck dis here Tar-Baby and he sat 'er right smack in de middle of Iraq. Den he lay off in dose date palms fer to see what de news wuz gwine to be.
And he didn't hatter wait long, Uncle Sam didn’t, and bing, bang, boom, here come de terrorists just pacing' down de road--lippity-clippity, clippity -lippity--dez as sassy as some jaybirds. Uncle Sam, he lay low. De terrorists come prancin' 'long until dey spies de Tar-Baby. And den dey stopped short, like dey wuz 'stonished.
De Tar Baby, she just sot dar, she did, and Uncle Sam, well…he still lay low.
" Peace be upon you!” sez dem terror mens, sez dey - “if you seek the right guidance!” sez dey. (But dey doan really mean any of dat peace, dey really doan!)
"Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nuthin', and Uncle Sam…he jus keep layin’ low.
"Why do you come to our holy places? ” sez dose same misguided nuts, sez dey.
"Uncle Sam, he keeps his powder dry, and lays low. De Tar Baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'.
"Do you want to convert? Is you deaf?' sez de doomed tribal ones, sez dey. 'Cos if you is deaf, I kin holler louder,' I sho can, sez dey.
"Uncle Sam, he sorter chuckle in his stummick, he did, but Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nothin'.
"'You de stuck up infidel, dat's w'at you is,' says dem terror folks, sez dey, 'en I’m gwine ter enslave you, or kill you, dat's w'at I'm a gwine ter do,' sez dey.
"Tar-Baby stay still, and Uncle Sam, he creep lower.”
"'Ef you don't stop telling our women dey can be free'…I'm gwine ter bus' you wide open, and ef hit's de las' ting I do, sez de baby-killers, sez dey, I'm gwine ter larn you how ter talk ter us 'spectubble folks.
"Tar-Baby stay still, and Uncle Sam, he lay low.”
"De terrorists keep on axin' 'im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on sayin' nothin', den presently one terror nut, he draw back wid his fis', he did, and blip he tuck 'er side er de head. Right dar's whar it all began and it all ended at de same dang time. His fis' stuck, and he can't pull loose. De tar hilt 'im. But de Tar Baby, she stay still, and Uncle Sam, he keep on keepin’ on laying low.
"`Efen you don't lemme loose, I'll knock you agin,' sez dat terrorist, sez ‘im, en wid dat he fotch 'er a whap wid de udder han', en dat stuck too. Tar Baby, she ain'y sayin' nuthin', and Uncle Sam, he lay low.
"`Tu'n me loose, fo' I kick de pork stuffin' outen you,' sez de terrorist, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'. She des hilt on, en de unreformed idiot lemming lose de use er his feet in de same way. Uncle Sam and his boys, dey lay low. Den de stuck one squall out dat ef de Tar Baby don't tu'n 'im loose he butt 'er cranksided.
En den he butted, en his head got stuck. Den dat Uncle Sama and his boys…dey sa'ntered fort', lookin' just as innocent as one of yo' mammy's mockin'-birds.
"`Howdy, Mr. Terrorist,' sez Uncle Sam, sezee. `You look sorter stuck up dis mawnin',' and your pals have run away, sezee, en den he rolled on de groun', en laft en laft twel he couldn't laff no mo'.
`I speck you'll take dinner wid me in Gitmo dis time, you illiterate murderer. I done laid in some mighty sweet detention, en I ain't gwineter take no skuse,' sez Uncle Sam, sezee." Come on!"
Here the old man paused, and drew a six-pound yam out of the ashes. "Did Uncle Sam ever torture those terrorists?" asked the little boy to whom the story had been told.
"Dat's all de fur de tale goes," Uncle Remus replied. "He might have, an den agin he might have not. Some say dat…dat der United Nations come 'long atter some awhile, and dey loosed mos’ of dose dang terror boys back on de world- some say dey didn't loose ‘em old boys at all! But, dat’s all de fur de tale goes!”
Now, I hear yo’ mama, Missy Gerry callin' you! You better run 'long."
(I woke up from this crazy dream in a cold sweat. But, I’ve heard that’s how most political fables go. I’m not sure if Uncle Sam caught the terrorists in Iraq, or if the terrorists caught Uncle Sam there.)
Tags:
humor Iraq News comedy comedian 
