To Butt, or Not to Butt.
At some time in the distant past, no date given, some fellow bending over was given a boot in the britches. To some this appeared such a delightful spectacle that they made a game of it. Soon the game spread all over the world.
In later times some fellow who did the booting started wearing a brown shirt. This was quite an innovation and caused considerable comment. Later another wore a red shirt.
Heretofore conversation was sprinkled with whether one had had his boot in the pants this week, or no. But later the discussion hinged around whether the booter should wear a brown or a red shirt. Some even hinted darkly of other colors. Still later the discussions became arguments, and in time the battles became hot and bloody.
Learned men wrote treatises about how, when, and where the populaces should get their boots in the britches. Who was to do the booting, and on what days; whether the first of the week or at the end, and numerous other details. Then, too, they waxed wroth over what to call the booting game. Some said it should be called democracy. Others said no, it should be called people’s democracy, and as the arguments proceeded other names cropped in. Some believed in national rump kicking; while others said that was foolish, there should be an international rump kicking organization. And the arguments went on and on.
At one of the great conclaves trying to work out a satisfactory system of rules for rump kicking, involving compromise, checks and balances, and a great deal of other complicated matters involved, I saw a fellow on the sidelines feeling his butt, — and scratching his head.
December 18, 1958