Homophobia

So, ya didn’t think I knew that word, much less could spell it, did ya.  Well neighbor, I can… even though I reckon it’s one of the dumbest words this side of a rock.  It wheren’t even a word until some hippies back in the 60s made it up.  An’ they musta been smokin’ somethin’ when they did, if you know what I mean.

They done made it up from 2 real words: homo – a Latin word meaning human being.  And phobia, from the Greek word phobos which means it scares the livin’ manure outta ya.

Now somehow or t'other, them hippies decided their fake word should mean - hatin’ those folk we used call queer.  OK, queer ain’t the best word either, but least it’s a real word.  And if you think about it, it does kinda describe how them folks act compared to most.  Anyway, that homophobia word is about wrong as tits on a boar hog.  It sure ain’t about all human beings and it ain’t about being scared of something either.

Maybe, if'n they hadn’t been smokin' or snortin’ something, they woulda used some other words that had a real meaning.  Take the word homosexual: Greek:homos and Latin:sexus.  Now there’s a word that’s been around a good 100 years longer and means what is says – same sex.  So if ya want, you can make a phobia outta that one and call it homosexiphobia.  'Course that wouldn’t be right either, friend!  Cause I ain’t never heard of nobody that was actually scared of no homosexuals.

Reckon I don’t rightly know of a good word to make up that would mean the right thing.  Gotta admit that.  But I do know that mostly folks just realize homosexuals are different and don’t really want to hear ‘bout their private lives.  Folks also pretty much realize that homosexuals are more like the rest of us than different from us.  Each got talents and faults.  Folks sure as hell ain’t scared of ‘em.  But mostly folks are just tired of hearin’ how the majority of us should change our ways to suit somebody else.  I just don’t cotton to ‘minority rule.’  But then, what do I know, I am…
Justan O. Geezer

Lying Season

Well, the crops are ‘bout in, the leaves are turnin’ and the lying season is almost over.  And I ain’t talking ‘bout lying under the apple tree watchin’ clouds.  I’m talkin’ lying as in politicians lying.  Only 13 more days o' listenin' to political bullshit!

It’s amazin’ how them politicians can take any fact and twist it so much that nobody can recognize it.  Take Jeremy Schwartz, who’s runnin’ for City Council.  He's been runnin’ this here radio ad on KMOO.   Now I don’t reckon I’ve heard the voice before (some actor I guess) but part of the commercial says, “Do you really want a bank vice-president running Mayberry? Elect me, Jeremy Schwartz. I’ll be an honest voice for all the people, not just the rich.”

OK, I’ll skip over the obvious bullshit. Truth be told, he’s talking about Clyde Hammond, who manages the local branch of the Springfield Farmer’s Bank and Trust.  Now any fool knows that banks don’t got managers.  Instead, they give ‘em the high flauntin’ title of Vice-President.  Clyde’s got 3 or 4 people workin’ for him – depending on whether you include his wife, who sometimes brings his lunch down and occasionally helps tidy-up the place.  There’s one full-time Teller and a Secretary/part-time Teller/Cleaning Lady/Greeter and the “Vice-President” himself.  Yep, Clyde is so rich he drives a gray ’01 Taurus.

Now, what Jeremy ain’t sayin’ is that he is a lawyer who’s got 2 offices.  One down on Main and another up in Springfield.  About a year ago, he bought the Wyler place when it got foreclosed.  It happens to be just within the north boundaries of town.  Yep, Jeremy’s an official Mayberry resident and eligible to run fer office. 

Them’s the facts friend.  Guess who I’m gonna vote for.  I may not know much, but I certainly am…

Justan O. Geezer

Hunting Season

Well folks, it's gittin' close to huntin' season round these parts.  An' ya don't need no calendar to tell you!  All ya gotta do is take a gander at Jesse's place as ya drive into town.


Yessir, ever year 'bout this time, Jesse rounds the herd up down by the barn.  Then he takes them in one at a time and spray-paints "N A D" on their flanks. Bright red.  Does it every year since some city-slicker shot up his prize bull.  It stands for "Not A Deer."


Sure hope them city fellas can all read.  Reckon so... it's worked so far.
Justan O. Geezer