Asylum Earth. Charles Bragg
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The South had won the war, and, in effect, all the states now had the right to secede from the union and become independent nations, with their own flags, their own armies, and their own laws.
The Balkanization of the United States began not long after. The fragmentation of the states dwarfed the behavior of the very Balkans themselves.
There had always been the states of North Carolina and South Carolina, a Virginia and a West Virginia. Now they were countries. Then came a North New Jersey and a South New Jersey, a West Rhode Island as well as the regular Rhode Island. The Grand Canyon state became Lower Arizona and Upper Arizona. Greater Delaware and, would you believe, the oxymoronic Lesser Delaware were created. So was the independent Island Empire of Staten. There was a Main Maine and the Other Maine. All sovereign nations.
The corn growers of Kansas joined with the string bean farmers of Oklahoma to form the new nation of Succotash.
Portuguese was declared the official language of Kentucky.
Not long after declaring their independence, Arkansas and Mississippi went to war when the IQ test scores of the elected leaders of both of those states were released by Connecticut's ruling military junta headed by Generalissimo
G. Armstrong Custer.
About the same time, a most tragic confrontation occurred in Outer Pennsylvania. A buggy full of Amish thugs raided a Quaker quilting bee and stole several shawls. The conflict that followed will forever be known in military annals as the Plowshare War.
The bloodiest encounters were fought between the Irish Communist Militia of Massachussetts and the Falangistas of California. It came to an end when they joined forces to oppose barbarian invaders from the north-Viking dairy farmers from Wisconsin and Minnesota.
A seemingly minor border incident awoke the "sleeping tiger" of the retired elderly of Florida. They bravely repulsed the incursions of the beer guzzling Peckerwoods of Alabama.
As often happens in monumental upheavals, the lives of individuals as well as nations take dramatic turns.
For example, Al Jolson, while singing "Mammy" in a minstrel show in Biloxi, was arrested under the Fugitive Slave Act by John Wilkes Booth the 3rd, and returned to his rightful owner, a rabbi in the Bronx.
Incidentally, John Wilkes Booth the 3rd was shot shortly after that by Dred Scott the 4th.
In more recent times, the Mormon Bigamists of Utah attacked the Godless Opportunists of Nevada for complete control of casino gambling in that neck of the woods.
In 1972, after a geological survey made sure no oil was to be found there, the United Nations of North America voted the newly freed African slaves their own homeland. The Cherokee Indian Reservation on which it was to be located would forever be known as New Liberia. Details of the response of the ungrateful Cherokee people to this act of generosity are too depressing to dwell on at this particular time.
It's hard to say exactly what caused all the disparate states to reunite. But they did. Was it the Red Menace? The Yellow Peril? The Riders of the Purple Sage? Who's to say? Most likely it was the fear of a massive seaborne invasion of the North American continent by the Rice Farmers of North Vietnam.
The miraculous reunification of the states in response to imminent danger inspired a radiant period of reconciliation, unity, and brotherhood. It lasted for almost three weeks.
Some things didn't change-the Purple Mountain's Majesty, the Amber Waves of Grain. However, the Fruited Plain was now the name of the only completely gay state in the Union.
Amazingly, I believe that if all of the above historic events had actually happened, by now our national deficit would have reached monstrous proportions-our education system would be a disgrace; our bridges and infrastructure would be in shambles; drugs, crime, racism, and homelessness would be rampant in our streets; aimless youths would become mindless predators; and-most important of all-I would still be two months behind on my car payments.
"How can I hurt thee
Let me count the ways"
THE ONE-LEGGED BEEKEEPER
Old Silas, the one-legged beekeeper, was not even aware that the Crusades were over. He did not have time to keep up with events so far away. Tending his hives and raising a daughter was all a feeble one-eyed cripple could manage.
One morning, when he and Amanda were working among the hives beside Mill Pond, they were suddenly confronted by a rogue knight in black armor on a huge charger.
"Away, old wreckage! It is the maid that I want and it is the maid I shall have!!" he roared, as he dismounted and strode towards Amanda.
His massive arms lifted her as they might a child. The beautiful young peasant girl's struggles were as nothing to Sir Mordred. Her scratching and beating against his armor only heightened his evil passion.
"No!" the helpless old Silas wailed, picking up a stick. "If only I were strong and this hive were that knave's head, I would teach him a lesson."
Thwack!
"But no, I am old and weak, and take my anger out on these hives."
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Hive after hive he smashed and pummelled.
Silas paid no mind to the swarms of bees he had lashed into a fury. Seeking revenge, the bees now fairly covered the netting that he, like all beekeepers, wore over hisbroad-brimmed hat. So thick were the swarms of enraged bees, that when he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he could barely make out the vague outline of a frenzied figure in black armor clanking at full speed towards the little stone bridge in the distance. When the knight reached the bridge, arms flailing left and right, surrounded by a roiling storm of infuriated bees, he threw himself over the wall and into the dark water.
Sir Mordred sank to the bottom of Mill Pond like a stone. The two thousand bees trapped inside his armor drowned about two minutes before he did.
During the Crusades, the chastity belt made it impossible for wives to fake orgasms while their husbands were recapturing the Holy Land.
THE NAIL
For the want of a nail, a shoe was lost.
For the want of a shoe, a horse was lost.
For the want of a horse,