Mad Jack Hanks: Mailbox mauled by suspected adoring fan
I would like to make a deal with you. I’m not sure we have met, maybe, maybe not, but I’m ready to holler “calf rope!”
Yep, I have reached the point where I would just love for you to call me, and heck, I’ll even buy your breakfast if you like. You can finally start barkin’ at me and just get it all off your chest. You can call me anything you want. You can tell me how misguided I am. You can throw all of the insults you can come up with and I’ll just sit there and take it like a man.
I might not even try to make medicine with you and who knows, I could fire up the peace pipe. I’m sure you are tired of grinding your teeth and clinching your fist until your knuckles turn white. That’s not a healthy way to live.
I know for a fact that I’m purt near tired of replacing my mail boxes. Who knows, I could just be barkin’ up the wrong tree and maybe, just maybe all of this is just coincidence? However, when I see that my mailbox and only my mailbox has been shot up with a shotgun (first time), or stuffed full of dog poop (second time) or ripped off the support, carried up the road and tossed over in my pasture (third time) and yesterday, someone just pried it off and left it in the ditch along with the mail (hopefully the last time).
Now if I have offended you and you are a strong animal rights person, or someone who believes that good honest folks shouldn’t own guns or maybe you just don’t happen to like me or anything that I write in this column, hey, that’s okay. Let’s bury the hatchet and we’ll meet face to face and you can really rake me over the coals. Don’t want to do that?
Why is that? Heck, I’m just a harmless old feller who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, that might be overstated. Part of it is true. I am old.
No kidding, just give me a call and maybe we can make a deal and you can rid yourself of all of the pent up frustration that according to you, old Mad Jack has provided. You must have lost a lot of sleep to drive all the way out here, get out of your vehicle and start bangin’, prying, cussin’ and tearing up my mailbox in the middle of the night. That’s kind of sad that you would want to live that way. I am glad that if all of this I have conjured up in my mind is in fact from you being upset with me for something I have written, at least YOU ARE READING MY COLUMN!
That’s cool and I say “thank you.”
Soooo….I reckon the ball is in your court. You can continue to be frustrated with me and pay me back by tearing my mailbox up and then go home and get on your mattress and relive the brave and dangerous deed you have done in the dark of night.
I bet you already know that what you are doing is a Federal offense and I have made a police report so that will have me on record as being a target.
They suggest that I put up one of those little cameras to record who comes by and well, you know.
Hummmm…not a bad idea methinks. Anyhoo, you decide if you are man (woman) enough to give me a call and have breakfast with me and maybe we can make a deal?
I’m bettin’ I never hear from you, will I?
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion, keep yer powder dry and your pistol loaded, and I’ll c. y’all, all y’all. ❖