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Date Posted: 13:53:46 04/27/01 Fri
Author: bumponalog
Subject: this best represents his persona, imo
In reply to: Smok'em when you got 'em says the joker 's message, "Operation Big Billy takedown ;-)" on 12:42:17 04/27/01 Fri

here's a column he did for a mag or newsletter somewhere. i think the story pretty will defines the author, billybob

******************8

JIM WAS ONE ORNERY MULE
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
name withheld by bumponalog
Assoc. Editor Coffee County News

column for 3/16/01

JIM WAS ONE ORNERY MULE

The devil was born in 1937, the year I was seven. He was ornery when he arrived and only got worse. His mother was a gentle old horse and his father was a jackass, of course. Within minutes after his birth he was staggering around the stall and within minutes more he was kicking. Animals have personalities and Jim was no exception; he was endowed with a mysterious and fierce hatred of humans from the beginning.

As he neared maturity it was necessary to have him neutered. Now that was a red letter day. That crazy mule raised more cain than I care to write about and his hatred for humans multiplied.

We tried to team him up with a gentle female mule named Stella but even her steadying influence wasn’t enough to keep him in line. Every time an opportunity presented itself he’d act up as if he lived for just those moments.

One spring day (in 1939) we were planting corn. My brother was running the fertilizer dispenser and I was following with the planter. The fertilizer thing made a knocking noise and we knew Jim would never stand for that going on behind him so we hooked Stella to it and hooked Jim to the planter.

All went well for a while but every time we passed, as we went back and forth across that field, Jim’s ears would prick up and he'd flinch, just a little. Each time he got more fractious until finally he decided he’s had enough. Suddenly he bolted. Off he went like a bullet, dragging the planter and me as if we were rag dolls. Finally I realized that by dropping one line, hanging onto the other and digging my heels into the freshly plowed earth I might be able to turn his head and force him to run in a circle. It worked but can you imagine the horrible mess we made of that field? Seed corn was scattered across about an acre which meant we had to rework the whole thing and it also meant we’d have corn sprouting everywhere.

He finally tired. I led him to the fence and tied him firmly to a post with one line. I removed the other rope from his bridle and proceeded to put a whipping on him that he would remember. And ... suddenly Daddy appeared. Was he mad. He never allowed his animals to be punished. My brother stood there, watching (and grinning) as he escaped punishment but ....... I didn’t. I received a heavy dose of what I’d been giving Jim.

All memories of farm life aren’t happy ones. Needless to say, I’d never liked that mule but from that day forward I hated the very sight of him. I could write for a week about the ornery cuss, but ... I just ran out of space.

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