I was surprised when the phone rang this morning. I expected it to be a friendly robot offering me a credit card I don’t want or a back brace I don’t need. What to my wondering ears should appear but Skeeter Skates, the proprietor of Skeeter Skates Tree Stump Removal and Plow Repair, located in Ryo, Georgia.
When Skeeter calls, you can forget the pleasantries. He gets straight to the point. I’m not sure if that is just him or if that is a characteristic of stump removal and plow repair professionals.
“Hoss,” Skeeter said with no pleasantries, “the boys in my morning coffee club was wondering about all the stuff going on in Washington. They can’t seem to make heads or tails of it. I told them I knew one of them media types I would ask, although I ain’t sure how smart he is.” It helps to have a thick skin when dealing with Skeeter Skates.
I told him I would be happy to do what I could. It isn’t often Skeeter asks my advice, let alone his peer group.
“Walleye, who runs the bait shop over near Sugar Hill, wants to know if that orange-headed fellow has been run out of town yet,” Skeeter said. I assumed he was referring to the president of the United States. As of this time, he is still there although there was an effort being made to remove him from office by his political enemies.
“That’s what we thought,” Skeeter mused, “but we ain’t quite sure what he has done to cause such a stir. Ol’ Booger thinks the man twerps too much and says ugly things but that ain’t no reason to take his job away from him. Booger can’t twerp a lick, but he has been known to say some right ugly things to people and nobody has tried to close down his vegetable stand.”
Obviously, he was referring to Twitter, not twerping, but this was neither the time nor the place to correct him, particularly since he was with his colleagues.
I could hear somebody hollering in the background. “That’s Uncle Coot,” Skeeter explained. “He wants to know what all the fuss is about.”
I said to tell Uncle Coot that Democrats evidently haven’t gotten over the fact that Donald Trump got elected president and they and their friends in the national media have been looking for any excuse to try and impeach him. Now, they think they have one.
They say he called the president of Ukraine and asked him to check on the business dealings of the son of his leading rival, Joe Biden, who was involved with the largest natural gas producer in the country and being paid up to $50,000 a month for who-knows-what. Mr. Trump is also accused of threatening to withhold $391 million in foreign aid to Ukraine.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, Skeeter said, “How come them U-Kranes needed a foreigner on the board of their gas company? Couldn’t they run it without him? Or could it be because he has some influence with his daddy?” A good question.
“Also,” Skeeter added, “about that money. Ain’t those our tax dollars they are throwing around?” Yes, although I reminded him that their tax dollars go to a lot of other things, too, like $50 million for a streetcar in Atlanta that nobody rides.
Skeeter said Walleye thought we give away too much money already to a bunch of ingrates who turn around and criticize us about everything we do. Booger chimed in and said we ought to keep that money and spend it on ourselves while we are around to enjoy it. Uncle Coot agreed.
“Hoss,” Skeeter said, “me and the boys think this impeachment stuff ain’t got a blasted thing to do with ordinary folks like us. It is about politics and power – what you call an Inside-the-Beltway fight. Am I about right on that?” I could not have said it better.
Skeeter said he had to go. There was a Field Tuff 51” Single Gang Disc back at shop that wasn’t going to sharpen itself. Before he hung up, he said, “Maybe those clowns in Washington need to take a break and come to Ryo and have some coffee with Walleye, Booger, Uncle Coot and me and find out what real folks are thinking.” I must admit that it wouldn’t hurt. There are some smart people in that Ryo coffee club.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at email@example.com; at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139 or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/dickyarb.