It has been noted by several writers of Southern fiction that the hillbilly
holds a special place in the hearts of Americans, as being somewhat lightheaded, or maybe airheaded. This was true until it was found
out that those stupid, ignorant hillbillies over in Hot Springs, Arkansas was selling water to those brilliant Yankees.
One story that came out of Buchanan County, Virginia always seemed to hit the funny bone
of local would-be comedians. It seems that a few years ago when outhouses were in vogue, Basilo Compton sat down and wrote a letter
to Sears and Roebuck which read: “Dear sirs, I sure would appreciate it if you would send me a case of toilet paper as soon as possible!”
He sealed the letter and sent it off to Chicago to the headquarters proposed to him by WSM radio station in Illinois. After a few
days, Mr. Compton received in return mail a short letter from Sears stating: “We’re sorry Mr. Compton, we regret that we cannot send
the requested item because you failed to include a catalog number!” By return mail he sent this short note: “Huh, if id’a had the
catalog, I wouldn’t ‘ave ordered the toilet paper in the first place!”
Jake Jones stood out in his cornfield cutting corn suckers as hard as he could. Pretty soon, along came Art Horton walking along
so fast that he almost didn’t say good morning to Jake. Jake, being a cordial type of fellow, made sure that Art took the time to
“Whar you headed in such a tizzy, Art?”
Art replied, “I just saved up enough money to buy myself a Cadillac so I’m headin’ down to the dealership to buy one.”
Jake, being a religious sort of fellow said, “You mean, Lord willing I’m gonna go buy a Cadillac!”
“I’m for sure going down to buy a Cadillac! I’ve got the money right here in my shirt pocket!”
Jake let him go.
As Art rounded one of the curviest curves leading down to town, a couple
of ruffians jumped out and beat him unmercifully, ripped the shirt pocket off, and took his Cadillac money. Art was glad to escape
with his life.
Art began slowly dragging himself toward home. As he did so he had to pass
Jake Jones, still cutting corn suckers. “Whar you goin’, Art?” Jake inquired.
I’m gonna go home! Art mournfully replied.
Just so no one thinks that I am immune to hillbilly
humor, I must tell one on myself. This was told by none other than one of the most natural comedians to come out of Richlands, Virginia,
our cousin, Henry McGlothlin.
Sunday afternoons was the time that relatives and friends used to get together for visiting, eating,
and in my dad’s case, to get a chance to talk about his favorite subject, God. Along about one o’clock Henry McGlothlin pulled
up in the yard. As he was not a frequent visitor to my dad, although they were first cousins, he was greeted heartily by all present.
“Sure is good to see you, Henry,” mom and dad both said in unison.
Mom and Henry’s wife went on into the house, to see what there was to eat and to get some sweetened iced tea. Henry seated himself
in one of the ladder-back, split-hickory chairs that Grandpa Addison had re-caned.
you been, Henry,” Dad inquired.
“Fair to middlin” Henry replied with his sly little grin
that he always had.
Turning to me, Dad said, “Frankie, go into the house and get the book
that we all know and love so well!”
I’m telling you, I was as innocent as I could be! When
I returned I came out toting the Montgomery-Wards Catalog!
If Donald Trump was to be asked
to pull out the most important book, common to many people, would he recommend the book ‘How to be a Millionaire’? After all, he claims
to be the greatest Christian in the world!