David Armstrong said:
<< Here's what I posted on my blog:
Hays' latest reply is posted below. This guy is breathtakingly dense: matched in this regard in my experience only by Frank Turk ("centuri0n").
<< In Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him thus.
Othello, V,ii.338. >>
Imagine mah flush-faced shame to be mentioned in the very same breath as Frank Turk. Oh the pain! Oh the humiliation!
Ah never had me much book-larnin’, and now mah worldly reputation was all in tatters. How could ah ever agin hold mah head up high in poh-lite company?
Why, I was a-plannin’ to take mah high school sweetheart, Ella-Mae, to the local cock-fight this Saturday, seein’ as that was a swell spot ta pop the question.
But now, to be compare with Frank Turk! Yah know Frank Turk, don’t cha? He’s one a-them thar hell-fahr, snake-handlin,’ predestinashun-preachin’, solar scriptoora-teachin,’ RADICAL bra-burning Ba-yub-tists.
First thing ah did was ta rifle through all mah cupboards and drawers just in case ah had me one a-them pairs a-black plastic wrap around dark glasses like seniors wear over their double-thick trifocals. But I couldn’t find me none.
Then I got me out a pair a-scissors and a white paper bag, and cut two eye-holes in the front and pointyed up the top-end so as ah’d blend right in with the way Howard Dean thinks all us red-staters dress.
And ah went outside and drove mah pick-up truck--yah know, the kind with the gun-rack and the Confederate decal--down to the liquor store ta stock up on mah moonshine; but it was kinda hard to see--what with that sack on over mah head, so that ah was a-swervin’ all over which ways and near ‘about flattened a momma coon and her litter at the coon crossin’ when ah was pulled over bah the poh-lice.
And she--it was one a-them lady cops--asks me fer mah driver’s license. But it was tough to match up the picher with the driver cuz ah had that paper bag on and all. So she asks me ta take it off.
I took me a real deep breath. And when ah pulled it off…well…she looks at the license, and then she looks back at me, and her face got all scrunchyed up, suspicious-like, and she sez, “Ah yew really Mr. Steve Hays? You look right familiar—like that preacher-man Frank Turk, more'n likely!”
And for a moment thar ah was just plum speechless. Then ah sez, “No ma’am. If ya truly must know, ah'm…ah'm Dave, Dave Armstrong.”
It was a lie, but a white lie.
And all of a sudden her face went all soft and motherly, and she sez, in a pitiful tone a-voice, “Ah understand, chil’. Put the bag back over yo head!”