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My Other Brother

Most folks don’t know it but I have another brother besides My Bro.  John Doe ‘Tittlemouse’ Jones.

Little Tommy Tittlemouse
lived in a little house.
He caught fishes
in other men’s ditches.

Tittlemouse Jones — a scurrilous individual

Tittlemouse was always a bad egg. He made the girls cry at school. He never cleaned his plate. He played with matches. He smoked cigarettes out behind the barn at a young age.  Just a bad actor all the way around. We seldom utter his name at family gatherings;  the women cover the children’s ears and the dogs slink away to hide under the kitchen table like they been kicked at the mere mention.

Tittlemouse was asked to leave home at an early age. He refused to lower the toilet seat under any circumstances.  The entire family realized what a serious threat this was to life and limb and we voted him out.  I think about that decision often these days.  He endangered the lives of women and small children and family banishment was a better fate than he deserved.  The bastard!

We lost track of him after a few years.  Some say he joined the Foreign Legion, others say he became a professional foot model in New York City (he did have handsome feet), others say he went to Gaskin’s Farm and others swear they saw him driving a pedi-cab in Kowloon.  Who knows for sure?  We heard from him occasionally over the years;  a brief collect phone call or a few words on the back of a postcard that pictured a man catching a fish 5 times bigger than his boat — just stuff like that.  I never paid it no attention.

So I am sittin’ here last night and my cell rings.  I answer it and an automated voice says ‘You have a collect call from an inmate at the Crossbar Hotel.  Press 1 to accept this call.’   I press ‘1’ and say ‘S’up T-mouse?’   He said ‘Listen Bro, I need to talk to ya for a bit.’  I got another beverage and a fresh pack of smokes and settled in to listen; you always listen more than you talk when Tittlemouse calls you.  It just is what it is ya know.

He had been watching C-Span all day at the lock up and the proposed assault weapons ban had him him all worked into a lather.  I explained to T as how we had lost all of our iron in a tragic boating accident and Miss K and I were bowlers now and that it made little difference to me what the government did regarding firearms.   Well that statement set John Doe Jones all a-fire.  He started to preach to me about Second Amendment rights and the Constitution and ‘Didn’t I know that the next step after a ban and universal registration will be confiscation and disarmament of private citizens???’  I actually snorted and blew adult beverage out my nose when he said that.

‘OMG T-mouse!  You can’t be serious!’

I then went on to tell him how benevolent and kind our Government was to us and how if you just worked hard; everything would be hunky dory.  Well just the other day, I got a slick brochure in the mail telling me about all the free money and cheese and stuff they would give me if I just filled out this form. They would even throw in a free cell phone.  Hey, what’s not to like about that?  He was having none of it though. He got to talking about Lexington and Concord and Belleau Wood and Normandy and I made little sense of it because it all just smacked of outright anarchy in my book.

But then I remembered that he had got all worked up like this once before when they came out with that New Coke and we all know how that turned out so maybe I should just lend his theorem a little credence. ‘So what is it you want from me John Doe?’  I always call him John Doe when we get down to serious business.

Well,  I gotta give him some credit because his plan is pretty danged shrewd.  He said that the government will most likely ask all the law abiding folks to voluntarily turn in their weaponry so’s they don’t have to go door to door and be askin’ you for it.  What Tittlemouse wants folks to do is this;  instead of giving your Colts and your Winchesters and your Remingtons to the Government just give them to him.  He said all the government is gonna do is cut ’em up for scrap and then sell that scrap to China so they can make weedeaters out of ’em.

‘John Doe, what in holy hell are you gonna do with a shit ton of guns?’  Well sir, he said there was some folks on top of a mountain in Idaho that was having problems with bears or something and they needed all the guns they could get their hands on.  Made sense to me so I said I was all onboard with the idea but didn’t know just exactly what it was that he needed me to do.  He said that if and when the government fellas called for us to turn in our guns that he didn’t have no idea where he might be just right then.  Hell he could be in jail again or off talking to the Dalai.  True enough I reckon, you just never know with that Tittlemouse.

So here is the skinny, when the government calls for the turn in of all the guns, send them to ME.   I am gonna collect ’em all up so Tittlemouse can give ’em to those Idaho fellas so they don’t get eat up by the Grizzlies.  Oh, and ammo.  Send your ammo too.  He said the government had just bought seven bazillion rounds of ammo and they weren’t needing anymore. Well, there ya have it –easy peasy. Just send me an email here when this fandango rolls around and I will take it from there.  One last thing;  put  ‘Chicken Little’  in the subject line of the email and call me ‘Henny Penny’ for my secret code name.   That oughta throw those double naught spies off the trail good.

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