Hit #1
Hit #2
Hit #1
Hit #2

Red's Good Idea 

Part One

"Whudchuh gerna rut 'boud negs?"

"Hey hey hey, Red. Seriously? I think you can do better than that, don't you? C'mon, try it again."

"Geez, Cope. You're worse'n an old maid English teacher. Can't a feller relax now an' then?

"Not in my column, bud. You want to talk like that, take it to your teabag friends. But as long as you're in here, you have to at least try to sound like you didn't just fall off a boxcar from Mississippi. Now, what is it you want to know?"

"I'm just asking what you're gonna write about next."

"Golly, pal, I haven't really decided. Got a lot of topics tumbling around in my head, but nothing's come up a winner yet."

"I think you oughta write about how that good ol' Texas school board is gonna change America."

"And how's that, Red?"

"'Cause from now on, the textbooks'll be telling the true, conservative side of how things happened instead of the lyin' liberal side. You know, Cope, that's gonna change everything. You liberals ain't got a chance now."

"Frankly, Red, I'm not really worried about those Texas feebs changing much with their horseshit version of history."

"Huh? Why not? You oughta be!"

"Nah. Think about it. The smart kids will learn better as soon as they grow up enough to have their own minds, and the stupid kids are going to grow up to be conservatives, anyway, no matter what the books say. Besides, I see the history of civilized countries as the inevitable and natural evolution of humanity out of the savage darkness of conservatism to the sublime enlightenment of liberalism. Certainly, there are setbacks along the way ... and sure as hell, Texas contributes way more than its fair share of the setbacks ... but since the Golden Age of Greece right on up to the election of Barack Obama, the march to an increasingly liberal society has been one steady, unstoppable, irrepressible progression. Those dumbass Texas school boarders are just swatting at the wind, that's all."

"What!?"

"I don't want to write about the Texans' textbooks, how's that."

"Well then, what are you gonna write about?"

"What's it matter to you, Red?"

"I just wanna know. It's the only dang perk I get outta this sidekick job, knowing afore anyone else what your next opinion is."

"OK, fine. What I'm thinking of writing about is how Rep. Walt Minnick and Israel are so much alike. But I'm worried I don't have enough room left to make the case."

"Huh? Walt Minnick is like Israel? Or is it that Israel is like Walt Minnick? And how d'you figure, anyhow?"

"Well, see, they both have a habit of pissing on our foot and calling it friendship."

"Whoooooooa, Cope. Your problem isn't not having enough room. Your problem is not having enough guts."

"Um, yeah. I'm afraid you might be right about that, Red."

"That's why you're beatin' around the bush here, ain't it? That's why you're piddlin' around with me when you should be writing up a storm, ain't it? You don't know how to say something bad about your ol' Democrat buddy Walt, so's you're wasting what space you got left dreaming up some conflationary hoop-de-doo mixing Israel into the batch, so's if you ever get around to saying what you want to say about Minnick, maybe people will notice the Israel part and not so much the Minnick part. That's what you're doing, ain't it, Cope?"

"Eeeoooow, conflationary? Mighty big word for a guy from Melba."

"Well! Ain't it?"

"Sorta. Maybe. Yeah. But that's not to say Israel hasn't been pissing on our foot and calling it friendship. And it isn't so easy criticizing Israel, either. I might say something certain Israelis don't like, and I could end up in a Dubai hotel suite with a pillow over my face. That's something I don't have to worry about with Walt Minnick."

"Cope, let's take this one at a time. First, I'll pretend I'm Israel, and you tell me what your beef is with me. Then we'll do the same with Minnick. It'll be like back-to-back interventions, sort o' like what we had to do with my brothers Blacky and Whitey."

"Red, that's a pretty good idea. But gee, I only have about 150 words left. I don't think I could even get the Israel part said in 150 words, let alone the Minnick part."

"There any law says you can't stretch this out to a two-parter? Huh? You done two-parters on some purdy dumb stuff. So's why can't you do it here?

"That's not a bad idea, either. See? What'd I tell you way back when I got you into enunciation therapy? Once you stop talking like a drunken monkey, you stop thinking like one, too. I swear, we'll turn you liberal yet, Red."

"You're wasting words, Cope. C'mon, let's get this going here. Remember, I'm Israel. What ya' have to say to me?"

"OK. Um, Israel. Pal. Here's the deal, see. Um ... how'd you like to go it alone from here on out?"

Next week, Cope intervenes with Israel and Walt Minnick, sort of like what Red had to do with his brothers Blacky and Whitey.

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