Moonshine, Family Values And Donald Trump

     I got a letter from my Uncle Barlow the other day. He still lives way out in the countryside, where the county is named Barlow and many of the people are, too.
     It's been quite a while since I heard from him, so he had some catching up to do. And as he often does, he wanted my advice about some questions.
     Here's what he had to say.

     "Dear Nephew,
     "I am sorry I have been so long about writing you.  I did some traveling with Millie from over at the library (and that is a whole nother story, let me tell you. Hoo boy). And so I had been neglecting my little beverage business, if you get my meaning, and had to buckle down and fix up my equipment, because some of my customers were starting to grumble about taking their trade elsewhere.
     "Anyhow, I've been busy, and I got overdue to write you, and I do apologize.
     "I guess you might be wondering whatever happened with Scooter and his wife Ida, the folks who run the cafe. You remember they got into a rough patch with each other when Ida got all carried away with operas and started calling herself Dulcinea. She kept dragging Scooter up to Charlotte to see them, and he pretty quick got about all of that he could handle.
     "Well, one day Scooter was complaining to Floyd over at the grain elevator, hardware store and auto repair. He said he'd as soon listen to a bull fart through a bugle as hear another opera. He didn't know that Ida was right over in the next aisle getting some new lids for her Mason jars. And she just clouded up and rained all over Scooter. Threw him out of the house.
     "He started bunking at the cafe. After closing time, he'd pull some tables together and throw a sleeping bag on top. He had a lot of time on his hands every evening, so he started thinking about how he might spruce up the cafe's business a little. Decided he'd add some Mexican stuff, and started practicing on new dishes.
     "Well, one night he got up to go to the privy, and he slipped on a leftover chalupa and gashed his forehead pretty good. He was too proud to go home for help, so he just patched himself up with a bunch of band-aids and opened up as usual the next day. Looked like he was that character in those Frankenstein movies.
     "Some of the customers told Ida, and she got to feeling guilty. Came over at closing to see what she could do for him. They started kissing and making up, and one thing led to another, and they got  pretty noisy about it. The sheriff was passing by, and overheard them, and got concerned about what might be going on, because Ida is a big old girl and Scooter is kind of a runt.
     "Well, the sheriff walked in on them, and things went straight to the dickens. Ida was naked as a jaybird, and that's some bare acreage, let me tell you. She  dove behind the steam table and screamed at the sheriff to get out. Scooter tried to cover his privates with his John Deere cap, because they had kind of thrown their clothes all over the place and it was the only thing he could reach.
     "The sheriff was mortified. He just high-tailed it right out of there, and the next thing anybody knew, Scooter was back home, and everything seems to have quieted down so far.
     "But anyhow, while I'm writing, I sure would like to ask your advice about a fix I'm in. You see, the people who say this fellow Trump has caused a lot of division among folks could be talking about me, if they only knew.
       "It all started when Delia Throckmorton came by my place to buy some of my beverage. Her husband is Elwood Throckmorton, the pastor over at the First Barlow Community Church.  The views there are pretty much over on the right-hand side of things. Family values, pro life, anti gay. That sort of thing.
     "Ordinarily they don't hold with drinking.  But Pastor Elwood allows himself exceptions. People just don't understand the stresses involved in keeping an entire congregation on the straight and narrow, Delia says, and he takes a nip now and then, strictly for medicinal purposes. (Looks to me like he has a lot of medicinal purposes, if you get my meaning.) He doesn't want to risk being seen at my place, so he sends her.
     "Anyhow, while Delia was there, my cousin Jimmy Frank came over to buy a jug for his own self. Now he's a good old boy, but he doesn't have the manners God gave a goat.  Just barged right in and sat down.
     "Delia couldn't let on to why she was really there, so she started rattling on about how much she enjoyed our tea and our chat about the strong leadership President Trump is providing our country. When Jimmy Frank heard that, he got about half bug-eyed and made a noise like he'd swallowed his tobacco plug.  She noticed, and said didn't he agree.
     "Jimmy Frank said hell no, that Trump is a crooked lying bastard. Said if Trump didn't launder money for the Russian mob he'll kiss her backside in the public square at high noon.  She commenced to sputter, but Jimmy Frank plowed right on. Said on top of that, Trump is crazy. Nutty as a truck stop candy bar.
     "She got red in the face and sputtered on about how Trump had surrounded himself with principled people and cultivated strong allies in Congress. Well, Jimmy Frank kept plowing. Said that fellow Pence would have to get ten times smarter to be a wooden Indian, and that fellow McConnell is the kind of grifter who'll hug you so he can pick your pocket.
     "Well, I figure Jimmy Frank has got the better side of this conversation by a country mile, but I don't want to say anything, because several of my better customers are members of that church congregation and I don't want to get on the bad side of Delia and Elwood. I mean, those folks are willing to wink at a little drinking, but they are dead serious about wanting the government to enforce the rest of their religion. They'll side with a snake if it claims to have family values.
     "They both noticed that I was keeping mighty quiet, and they both gave me the stink eye, like a woman who's caught her husband smooching a neighbor lady. And they both stalked out.
     "So you can see, through no fault of my own, I have truly got between a rock and a hard place. Jimmy Frank is family, so I'm pretty sure he won't say anything, but I'm not so sure about Delia. I'm afraid that if I want to keep my moonshine business up to snuff I may have to start going to church. That wouldn't exactly square with the way I really live, but the same is true of a lot of those folks over there, so I guess nobody would downright object. Still, it just doesn't seem right.
     "And that's how things are down here right now. I promise to be better about writing, and I'll let you know how all this turns out. I'll keep you posted about Scooter and Ida, too. There may be more happening there. I dropped into the library the other day to say hello to Millie, and I spied Scooter in the reference section. I asked him what was up, and he said that Ida has gotten all interested in something called haiku. He said he doesn't know what that is or how it works, but Ida has started talking mighty funny sometimes.
     "I told Scooter I thought he should hang on to the sleeping bag.
                                                                         
                                                                              "Sincerely,
                                                                              "Your Uncle Barlow"