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Defending a Flag

If you enjoy the free stories, please check out these blogs for more great stuff. Joe Shaw at josepheshaw.com, Joseph Courtemanche at commotioninthepews.com, Kathy Kexel at kathykexel.wordpress.com, Jamie Greening at JamieGreening.com, Derek Elkins at derekaelkins.com, Rob Cely at beyondthesteelwall.wordpress.com, and Paul Bennett at afallofsparrows.blogspot.com.

Jed Stumps, Willet McKinley and Formactylouche St. Croix were bone deep into their favorite rocking chairs on the porch of Jed’s house when a surly teenager named Brandon Arbuckle burst straight into their lower atmosphere like an angsty tornado.  As Jed doffed his favorite ballcap toward the newcomer, the boy took one glance at the enormous flag lying listless next to the house and spat on the pavement.

                “Why, that flag ain’t nothing but colonialism and tyranny draped in a small-pox laden blanket of racism and hostility!  Why don’t you just burn it?”

The jawbones of the three men fell forward and down in the universal symbol of amazement and disbelief.  Jed, however, was the first to recover.

“Why you impertinent youngster!  Don’t you know nothing?”

Brandon Arbuckle cocked his head back.  “Why I know enough to smell fraud when I see it.”

“What the…” Jed stammered.  “Now, you listen here, young ‘un.  That flag there’s got a tale to tell and you’d do your poor mam and pap proud to listen to what it says.”

“Oh yeah,” retorted Brandon Arbuckle.

“Yeah,” Jed spat back like a Grunman F8F Bearcat.  “Why, I’ll tell you what that flag’s a saying.  That flags a thousand men and women grasping M-16’s and driving tanks right into the bowels of hell and all while willing to give their lives up so’s a spoiled brat can look down on his country.  That flag’s a million bald firefighters scrambling in the dark of a forest on a thousand Ford F-150 pickups, slinging apple pie, if’n that’s all they had at their disposal, just so the houses of complete strangers could not be eaten up by the ravages of a fiery demon named fire.  And I’ll tell you one thing more.  That flag’s a magnificent bald eagle, him with fireworks instead of feathers and a gigantic tattoo on his back of a battleship named the S.S. Mom as he swoops down near his favorite hound dog named Rutherford and settles on the skulls of the enemies of America all the while singing the national anthem and humming the battle hymn of the republic while knitting a quilt with pictures of Elvis Presley, J. Edgar Hoover and the Little Rascals adorning each of them little squares, and pledging allegiance while dancing the Charleston and planting apple seeds in a very patriotic manner.  That’s what that flag’s a saying and you’d do right to listen to it instead of jacking your jaw.”

It was time for Brandon Arbuckle’s jawbone to slag a might bit.  He recovered just as quick.

“What?  You’re crazy, old man.  That flag ain’t saying that.  I’ll tell you what it’s saying.  It’s saying, ‘I was knit with the blood of slavery and oppression.  These stars, they ain’t stars, they’re the lives of Native Americans ripped from their homes and herded into camps.  And those stripes, those are the stripes inflicted on women, immigrant babies and minorities by the whips of Caucasian, male billionaire oil men.”

As Jed fought against his descending jawbone, Willet spoke up.  “Now, hold on there, young feller.  It seems like maybe you never were taught the true story of America.  Well, you’re in for a treat cause my pap told me the story when I was just a slip short of a pup’s tail and I’ll pass it on to you as well.  You see, once upon a time, the American people were slaves of a certain evil British monarchy.  Thankfully, a hero named George Washington emerged from a snowy pit and with his mighty wooden teeth and a spear forged from a cherry tree, he broke free from the oppressing red coats and with the help of other mighty Deists, like Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin and Denzel Washington, they enacted the first continental congress, proclaiming freedom for all and all for freedom. 

“Well, it wasn’t soon after that half of America was under another oppressive grip: this time it was the oppressive grip of the slave owners, led by the evil miscreant Robert E. Lee and his army of pecan farmers and boiled peanut eaters.  But soon another mighty hero emerged.  This one was called Abraham Lincoln and he had a top hat, but he tweren’t no magician.  No, but there was one fight where the evil slave owners tore off the man’s mustache with needles forged from cotton and it never did grow back.  Never.  But even without his mustache, Abraham Lincoln was able to defeat a full horde of slave owners and sharecroppers with help of his trusty friend, a log cabin named Walter Mondale.

“And that’s not even telling the tale of the Mighty Teddy Roosevelt and his moustache of many colors, Harry S. Truman and his two-fisted, nuclear hammers of justice or Bob Dole and his magical pen named Herbert.  Why, them fellers tweren’t no different than you or me, ‘cept they believed one thing and that was the land of the free and the home of the brave.  And when they sang about deer and antelopes playing, they sure meant it.  I’ll tell you.”

It took a moment a moment for Barndon Arbuckle’s jaw to match the disbelief that was evident in his forehead and upper back.  “What?  Look, you’re all nuts and you don’t know the first thing about America.  Those men weren’t great, they were murderers and swindlers, all of them.  It’s all a scam and you bought into it.  So, you take your deer and antelope and your mighty flying eagle, but just know one thing.  This country you’re so fond of, the one you’d fight so hard to protect don’t care one bit about you, me, or least of all, the under-privileged auto workers.”

Knowing he was beat, Jeb averted his eyes, glancing once at Willet, who averted his eyes as well.  However, before that glimmer of patriotic juice ran out both their eyes, they both turned expectantly to the one member of their posse who had not said anything in their defense but who was also the smartest and probably had a mighty fine answer hidden somewhere in the crevices in his noggin.

Formactylouche St. Croix, whose friends referred to kindly as Form and whose verbal sparring partners often referred to as the Louisianna Bargaining Devil or LBD for short, slowly nodded.  “Well, young’un, I reckon you got a slice of truth there.”

Jed and Willet hung their heads in shame, knowing full well that if Formactylouche St. Croix was admitting defeat than they were as good as toast.  Might as well move to Canada.

“But I wonder if the truth you got ain’t just a one-eyed tiger of a beast that’s just as likely to bite you as the next feller.”

“Huh,” countered Brandon Arbuckle.     

“Well see,” Formactylouche St. Croix continued, “it’s true that men and women have always done bad things, left up to their own devices.  And it’s also true that power corrupts, and that ultimate power corrupts absolutely.  But I don’t reckon we need to throw the baby out with the bath water just yet.  You see, just because certain Americans have done bad things don’t necessarily make America bad.  It’s just makes people bad.  The ideals that make America a good nation still hold up, even if Thomas Jefferson owned slaves or some bad folks gave them native Americans blankets with smallpox on them on purpose. 

“You see, the authors of the Declaration of independence said that all humans have basic rights bestowed on them by their Creator.  Why, they knew no government formed by man could ever treat humans the way they deserved to be treated.  Only their Creator knows how to care for humans properly.  A government formed by men and women ain’t never gonna be perfect cause humans ain’t perfect.  Every human makes mistakes because every human is, down deep in their core, selfish.  Some are so selfish, they’re downright evil.

“But only a government that allows that evil to go unpunished is a bad government.  If a government seeks justice, then it’ll correct itself.  And it’ll make sure justice comes to those who, by their own selfish actions, seek to do evil.”

Brandon Arbuckle swallowed a small lump of courage.  “Well, if this government is so good, then why are cops still killing poor people?  And why are immigrants turned down at the borders?  And why are the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer?”

Formactylouche St. Croix stroked his chin.  “Well now, those are some mighty important questions, and they deserve a mighty well thought out and complete answer.  I’d say that my first answer still rings true.  Some police men and women have killed others because of a lapse of judgement or poor training or just because they’re mean, selfish people.  But again, just because some police have committed crimes don’t mean that every police person does.  See, that there is what we in the logic biz call a logical fallacy.  To be specific, it’s called a composition fallacy.  It’s where you take a problem with a part of something and apply it to the whole thing, like you just did when you implied that if one cop or another shoots a poor person, then all cops must be doing the same thing.  You’re taking an anomaly and making it a stereotype for the whole.

“And that’s what you’re doing really with your whole argument against America.  You’re saying that since this person did this and that person did that, and make no mistake, they was bad things, but you’re saying since certain Americans did them, then America must be bad as well and you just can’t carry something like that from a part to the whole.  After all, just because Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, didn’t mean that the rest of the founding fathers of America owned slaves as well.

“Now, I’d be remiss to say that the fallacy you’re committing works both ways as well.  If someone does bad, they did bad, regardless of who or what they work for.  And that person should be held individually responsible for their individual crimes.  If there were a bunch of people who got together and agreed to do something bad, take advantage of the poor, kill someone or a bunch of someones, then again, those people would be held individually responsible for their crimes.  We don’t hold systems responsible for the individual’s crimes because no ideological system ever personally and individually committed a crime against anyone.  It were the people in those systems that committed those crimes.”

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