Written by matwil

Monday, 8 June 2009

image for Laura Ingalls reads a children's story 'More hokum in it, please'

'Once upon a time there was a place that the British, and the French, and the Spanish, and everyone and their dog, sent their surplus people to, to have a rest from fighting wars, where they quickly felt very important.

And this place became full of fanatical Christians, that actually believed that the place was somehow important to the British, the French, and the Spanish. It wasn't.

But the next year the Reverend Cowpoke O'Pressley - a typical type of local preacher, ones that the British, French and Spanish had deported - stood up and declared: 'We must go and die in European colonies!', and soon the other people in his neighborhood -

also unwanted by the British, French and Spanish, for some reason, and especially by British, French and Spanish generals - put on silly uniforms, and were led like lambs to be slaughtered in the British, French and Spanish colonies of Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Nicaragua. But luckily these brave and courageous people had one thing to keep them going - a piece of colored cloth, designed by the very people that now endlessly satirise them.

Meanwhile, back at the church, the Church of Intolerant Hellfire and Damnation, and taking a deep breath, one overweight white man with sunburn stood up with difficulty, and began to sing the Hymn of the Unwanted Soldiers:

'Oh! Say can you see, by the dawn's early light
Such dreadful lyrics, exceptionally shite
Those naff stripes and dull stars through losing another fight
O'er the ramparts we watched we were so gallantly surrend'ring

Then conquer we won't, when our cause is unjust
And this be our motto: 'In nukes we do trust'
And the star-spangled banner in World Wars won't wave
O'er Commonwealth soldiers that actually are brave!',

and a dog barked outside in the street, a crow cawed on the church roof, and John Ingalls said: 'Well, that hymn might need a bit of rewriting. Laura, make up some important-sounding nonsense for the words. And get rid of that dreadful English tune!'

The End of the beginning of the End of the End of the Beginning of the End of the end of the beginning, of the end. Of the beginning.'

Mary Ingalls was seen a-frolickin' with the English language, while Elizabeth Ingalls was a-cookin' up that favorite American dish, apple pie laced with hokum, served with a side portion of self-delusional history.

Or lack of it.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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