Thursday, August 24, 2006

I do declare suh!

Last week, while I was cruising the internet for gay midget animal porn, (you know, doing the usual) I was approached by my boss, (since I’m in the Army I have many bosses. Seven in fact. This boss was the top boss tha cappo de tutti cappos, or whatever the hell it is.)

Now typically, being approached by my boss freaks me out because I have to look busy and pretend to have military discipline and bearing, and I’m way too lazy to do that shit.

But this time was different.

He walked up to me with an air of reverence, and dare I say it…awe. In his hand he held two official and important looking documents. He smiled at me and my blood froze in my veins, because his smiles either mean something bad, or that he’s about to tell me a joke that only he thinks is funny, yet I will be compelled (by my stellar upbringing) to chortle along with him.

He handed the official papers to me and told me that the Governor of Kentucky, the honorable Ernie Fletcher, along with the Secretary of State, Trey Grayson, had conferred upon me the rank of Kentucky Colonel!

That’s right, I’m a colonel. And not just any colonel, you plebs, a Kentucky Colonel! And you will all address me with the privilege my rank entails.

How did this happen? You are probably asking yourself. How is it that Joshua managed to obtain that lofty and oft sought after goal of becoming a Kentucky Colonel? Well, that’s for me to know and you to spend the rest of your lives contemplating. A true colonel never tells his secrets.

There is an unfortunate obligation to being a Kentucky Colonel. One I’m not sure I can live with, but I must if I am to retain my commission. I must become a man of honor. A man of integrity, loyalty and high moral standards. In fact, I must be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent, (extra credit to anybody who gets that reference.)

I find that becoming all these things is very difficult, because I’m not a man of my word, I’m a liar and a cheat. I’m also a very gifted manipulator. All of these skills must be unlearned. I have to figure out how to tell the truth! I don’t even know what the truth sounds like! I’m not sure that I can craft my mouth into the proper shapes for truthful words to come out! And having to make promises, and keep them is revolting to me! To say things and mean them is so against my nature that I don’t even know how to start. This isn’t going to be easy.

On the other hand, I am now privy to the 11 secret herbs and spices, so I guess it all evens out.

It will be fun to gather once a year and converse with my fellow colonels whose names escape me for the moment, but I believe they’re all rich and powerful white men of some standing in the respective fields and communities. People like Bill Gates, Bill Clinton and the Hamburglar.

I know what my black brothers and sisters are saying to themselves. They’re calling me a sell out and an Uncle Tom for joining the Confederate Army. But, this isn’t truly the case my friends. Rather, I’m more like a spy, bringing down the army and those racist, southern cracker states from the inside! Black Power!

By this time next year I will have sold all of Kentucky Friend Chicken’s secrets to Popeyes and run them out of business. Then one by one, the southern states will fall before my might and become upstanding states where people don’t have sex with family members, drink moonshine and eat what they find in the road.

After learning of my new title, I immediately had myself a shot of Southern Comfort, a mint julep and commissioned a painter to capture my likeness in a portrait worthy of my splendor. I feel that it is the essence of who I am, and I’m sure that it will make a fine addition over my fireplace next to my stuffed heads of WPs who have gotten on my nerves.

Then it’s on to my next plan: taking control of the French Foreign Legion.

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