November 16th 2013
Burkburnett, New Republic of Texas
Late this afternoon former Federal Government President, Barack Hussein Obama, was turned away from the border of the New Republic of Texas as he tried to enter with a fake ID claiming immigrant status and riding in a burnt orange pickup, apparently of crimean war vintage.
Prior to this event there were numerous rumors as to where Mr. Obama might be. It seems he had all but vanished after his failed bid for a second term. He hadn't even stayed around for the lame duck session of congress for reasons only he knows. At least he just left and didn't try to steal a bunch of furniture like Hillary and Bill.
Anyway, after the financial collapse of the Federal Government this past summer (2011) rumors of his whereabouts flew thick as a swarm of bats out of a Mexican cave at sunset. The events earlier today at Burkburnett have replaced rumor with fact!
Readers will recall that, in reacting to early warnings about the potentially disastrous consequences of Obama's unbridled four-year government spending spree, Texas had had enough and seceded in early 2011, despite brutal criticism from several New England states.
Upon hearing of the Texas secession large crowds gathered in Concord, Boston, Hartford and Burlington shouting, "You can't leave. Give us your money, give us your money and the blood of your young men for the profiteering banker's wars like you always have!"
(Angry little people up there.)
And, of course, no citizen of the New Republic of Texas will ever forget those broadcast images of Barney Frank defiantly standing on the steps of Congress with his fist in the air, where he, frowning even more than usual, kept repeating, “You're going to be weeeeely sorrrwy about this. If we could pay for fuel for our jets we'd nuke you, or if we could pay our soldiers we'd twack you down and shoot you wike the scrwulous dogs you are....You come back here this vewy instant or, or,...or I'll scwatch your eyes out! Ooooo, those cwazy Texans make me so mad! We will wule you yet!”
(Pathetic little man up there.)
Eye witness account at the Border
I arrived at Burkburnett in the late-afternoon, too late to actually see what happened. But N.T.R. chief border guard, Lonzo Drinkwater, gave me and several other reporters his personal eyewitness account of the former president being turned away.
He said, “Well, to begin with we'd received reports he was seen a couple of days ago in Kansas. I understand that upset quite a few folks up there. I heard they wuz 'specially rude in Topeka because he refused to apologize for 'Brown vs Board of Education.' Guess they're still mad about that 'n I don't blame'em. Reports we got here said Topekians kept sayin' since he'd apologized to every one else around the world, they wanted one too for all the millions of wasted hours and wasted fuel and lost family and community time resultin' from that damned Federally mandated forced busin'."
Drinkwater paused to take a sip of Big Red and continued, "At sorta gits my goat too, if you don't mind my sayin'. Ennyway, after he escaped outta Topeka he headed south and we purty much lost track o' him til we heard someone matchin' his description had stopped for several hours at a Sheplers in Oklahoma City. Let me tell you, they'd duded him up pretty convincin'. What threw us off even more was when he drove up in an ol' burnt orange Ford pick up that looked like it had been parked overnight in Norman the day after a Longhorn victory in the Red River shootout. Bobby Joe, we call him Snapshot, our border photographer here, took a picture of the truck while Mr. Obama's papers were being examined. T'wernt profilin' or nothing––not that that's a problem here. Snapshot does that fer all the cars n' trucks that come through here. So, like I sed, 'at wuz a pretty convincin' gitup he had on if you ask me. I guess he thought he'd be able to sneak through by going to some out of the way place like Burkburnett...,but we was waiting fer him.”
Drinkwater seemed to laugh to himself, then said, “His ID even looked pretty good too until ol' Eagle-eye here on our staff held it up to the Texas sunlight and saw that 'Federal bureau of Engraving' watermark on the paper.”
At this point Drinkwater and his crew stomped around laughing uncontrollably till they cried and the interview was delayed for a few minutes while they regained their composure.
Wiping tears from his eyes he went on, "You know, one of the best thangs in the wurld is havin' yor opponent underestimate you. The dummer he thanks you are, the better chance you have of winnin'. And considerin' what he thought he could get away with Mr. Obama musta thought we was really dumb."
Upon Drinkwater saying that even more laughter ensued from the border guards.
Drinkwater's Account Continues
"But, what was I sayin'? Oh, yea. Now I remember. Well, Chuck Wagon here does all the vehicle inspecshuns. N' he suspected something' right away when he noticed that rifle mounted in his rear window was just a Daisy bb gun. But what really gave it all away happened during the walk around. As Chuck Wagon walked towards the bed of the truck, he glanced over his shoulder toward the front of the vehicle and noticed the rear view mirrors wuz actually tiny teleyprompters in disguise. Seems Mr. Obama had been answerin' border guard questions by glancin' at em, gettin' the answers by wireless from his former Southern dialect Czar, Martin Frost. That explains why Obama's answers were so bad. Ennnnnyway, when we saw them there teleyprompters, let me tell you, the cow was in the barn, the chikins had come home 'n the fat lady was singing' all at the same time.”
At that point Snapshot began swaying back and forth with his hands clasped in front of him and eyelids fluttering, and started singing something unrecognizable in a high voice and even more laughter broke out, causing another, albeit briefer delay.
Once things got quiet again Drinkwater continued.
“Well, when we turned him away it was pitiful,... pittiful I'm tellin' ya. He broke rite down. I almost felt sorry for him, but I guess not really. I mean, it's a lot his own durned fault, you know. I'll never fergit how his lower lip quivered 'n him sayin' how it was inhuman to turn a man back to a land where regler gas is $250.00 a gallon.”
Mr. Obama's parting shot, according to Drinkwater was, “You can't do this. I'll be back. Remember I'm from Afri...I mean, Hawaii...I can swim!”
At that point Drinkwater said Chuck Wagon shouted after him, as if in mocking response, “Hit won't go no better on the Rio Grande than heer, no matter how good you can swim--thangs ain't the same down on the border as when you wus runnin' it." He paused, then yelled, "Two fifty a frakin' gallon! Just whose damned fault is that, Mr. CapNTax?”
"Obama shouted sum other stuff," Drinkwater went on, "but his voice quickly became inaudible, swallowed up in the roar and grinding of the burnt-orange pickup scuttling like a wounded scorpion across the dusty floor of an invisible sea, and finally fading away entirely in the hazy light of the waning Texas sun."
Reflection after Obama's Departure
Drinkwater told us he had no idea where Mr. Obama was going, but added while laughing and wiping the tears from his eyes, “Where ever it is it can't be too damned fer. Not with gas prices like that."
He paused and added, "Then agin, maybe he brought the Fed's printing presses with him 'n he's hidin' em sommers in the rocks.”
Chuck Wagon said, “Hey, Lonzo, I'll bet he heads east to the Arbuckles t' see if he can't do summ kemunity orgainizin' among them prairie dogs."
Snapshot quipped,"Yessir, I bet 'em doggie's gonna luuuuuuuv him.”
Gales of laughter followed on the heels of Snapshot's remark and I was sure they would carry on and on like before, but the laughter died down as quickly as it had started, and the men grew completely silent, as if responding to a familiar cue given by some invisible conductor.
My unexpected Vision
I suddenly became self-conscious, and strangely aware of where I was standing. For some reason I looked down at the ground and began watching the play of trembling grass blades on the sand and rocks while their shadows performed a hypnotic dance as a ghostly wind whistled mournfully over the land. Funny, only moments before I had not heard it at all.
I can't say how long I stared at the play of the grass, but when I looked up from the ground I realized the rangers had walked about about fifteen yards from me and the other reporters. They were standing on the crest of the rise behind the ranger station and staring into the blazing burnt orange that now filled the Texas evening sky. Their black silhouettes were as still and silent as Romanesque statues. It seemed like they were staring into eternity...it seemed like we all were.
I glanced to my left and right and could see the outlines of the other reporter's faces, blood-red, as if they were illuminated by the glowing embers of a great celestial furnace.
My gaze turned back to the dark outlines of the rangers. Suddenly a shiver raced up my spine, and for a fleeting moment I envisioned the world was on fire and the rangers were standing like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abdenego, unafraid and unharmed in the midst of the conflagration.
The Vision Departs
Just how long we stood there I can't say. But when the rangers turned back toward us I noticed that Drinkwater was no longer smiling and the twinkle in his blue eyes had faded with the last light of evening. They now appeared as a steely blue-gray, serious and determined. He had the same solemn expression with which he had greeted us only an hour or so before, and which had vanished in the hilarity of his accounting.
In the distance the faint antiphonal sounds of coyotes could be heard mournfully acknowledging the dying day. Drinkwater glanced over his shoulder to his men and their heads nodded in agreement to some unspoken yet unmistakably heard command.
Turning toward us briefly he gave a faint smile and tipped his hat, and, with his men, walked silently to his post.
These brave New Republic Texas rangers then wordlessly reassumed their lonely vigil, standing on guard to protect the borders of our Beloved Lone Star State, lying sovereign and proud once again under the gleaming stars that were beginning to appear one after another in the cloudless emptiness of the blue-black ocean above us.
I stood there in the evening chill, staring straight up, past the stars into that infinite ocean few of us ever notice in the city. All of a sudden I felt like a child again, helpless, unknowing–– infinitesimally small.
I and my photographer drove back in silence to the bright lights and busy roads of Dallas, which now appeared to us as almost surreal.
I understand that back in Austin New Republic of Texas President, Debra Medina could not be found for immediate comments on the curious events that occurred late this afternoon at Burkburnett on the northern border of the New Republic of Texas.