Short piece read in a slow Southern drawl at the 2015 Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference

A few words this evening, gentlemen, while our fine ladies spread the feast they’ve prepared for us and we share the bounty of our lives.  But good sirs… I am truly sorry to repeat for what must be the 100^th time, an irrefutable fact. In our country we are on the wrong tracks. And as you know, the Dixie Limited cannot compete with the Liberal Express.

So many of us, gentlemen, recall the days of the Barnum & Bailey circus…and how it rolled on the rails into our fine town of Tuscazoola…and how for one week we heard the welcome roar of wild animals, their screeches and roars filling the air on humid summer nights.

But I know that you know, my good friends, that never once from our youthful days until the Barnum & Bailey circus rolled its tents and left Tuscszoola for the last time, was any lion from the circus responsible for the death of any BODY.  But neither gentlemen, did we ever question the nature of the beast.

Now stay with me in thought, good sirs. I am asking this. Given the absence of the circus trainer and the presence of a sweet little lamb, is any of us fatuous enough to believe The Lion Story would not end in blood. No, good sirs.  The lion gets trained. It does not get converted.

In late May, gentlemen, I will be delivering a commencement speech at Freedom University, when their fine Christian graduates go out into the world of ever multiplying heathens, fornicators, sodomites, transexuals, and other perverted Liberal-ators.  The title of my speech for the convocation will be: The False Conversion Theory of Human Nature, delivered by none other than your congressman, Lane Weldon.

I do readily admit, my friends, that recognizing paradox has never been my strong suit.  In this I take pride. And yes it has been pointed out to me by countless liberal agitators that Christianity is founded on the Golden Rule; that Jesus Christ would be a liberal Democrat and not a conservative Republican in today’s political world.  But I would argue this shallow claim obfuscates and muddies water like a rabid beaver.  And what do we do with a rabid beaver, good sirs?  Do we spend money to cure it? Do we tickle its big tail and show it kindness?  NO! We shoot the damn thing. And we don’t expect a panther in the Everglades to be our friend, or those boa constrictors let loose in the Glades by irresponsible folk who overly populate our fine country. 

It is a thousand acres of horse manure to believe that kindness keeps an alligator from opening its jaws and displaying its fearsome teeth.

As of late, I’ve been hearing a lot about the Dalai Lama. I confess the first time I heard the name, I had it confused with Dolly P from Tennessee. But recently I saw television clips of this Tibetan fellow and could see he’s a fine man with a twinkle in his eye. St. Nick wearing a maroon robe, you might say. But should the Dalai Lama show kindness to a rabid beaver, we can be certain he is not immune to rabies.

Gentlemen, I could go on talkin’… but I see my missus over there, waving her sweet little hand, telling me the bountiful food is ready to enjoy. 

And when you have a sweetened tea in hand, we shall raise our glasses in a toast to the eternal & bestial nature of Man and say  Ah….men.

Next week: Perhaps another short piece from files of writing being purged…