REDNECK PERSPECTIVE: Hog Island M16 Intel Briefing
Jackson Hole, WY — I was called in to brief Ndogo Uume, the new Hog Island mayor, on our latest intelligence operations. We met in the situation trailer, a 1998 Thunderbird singlewide that had been refitted with a big screen TV and a fridge full of Bud Lite. I updated Uume on the efforts of Hoback Junction president Blatter-mire Poopin to initiate a cyber-attack on Hog Island by jamming cable reception during the Super Bowl. His operatives, posing as cable repairmen, intended to steal all the Bud Lite and eat all the bacon wrapped sausage Super Bowl snacks.
I suggested we inform Poopin that if he doesn’t back off, Hog Island M16 will open a Starbucks next to the Hoback Store. Then Hoback Junction would be overrun with Connecticut transplants and Wilson moms talking about book clubs and white wine, I explained. Poopin would be blamed and every Hobacker with a pickup truck and shotgun would be hunting him.
“Poopin’s a great, remarkable, incredible, amazing leader,” Uume said. “Who do you think caused the delay in the Hoback Bridge? He made millions! I’m hoping for a similar coup with the new Hog Island School. Plus he tipped the election to me by spreading rumors that my opponent was a closet latté sipper! Your intel is faulty; you’re a retarded, idiot, stupid, Mexican, Jew, black, immigrant, nasty Westbanker!”
I took my rebuke in silence then moved on to other security issues. “A branch of the Teton Pines Syndicate operating out of Sudachi Sushi is responsible for pushing sashimi to impressionable teenagers in the trailer park,” I told the mayor. “Kids are becoming addicted to raw yellowfin and the mob is squeezing them to feed their habit. It has been reported that some Hog Islanders have hocked guns, even pickup trucks to feed their addiction.
I explained to Uume how I infiltrated Sudachi by disguising myself as a Connecticut skier. I dressed in a gingham murray shirt with a fleece harbor vest and pincord slim breaker pants, my reservation confirmed by the concierge at Hotel Terra. (Unbeknownst to the Sudachi host, the reservation was made from a safe-trailer in lower Hog Island.) I eavesdropped on Tony “the Sushi seller” Spilotro, a Brooklyn mafiosi who carried out murders for various crime bosses before moving to the Pines. By drowning Hog Island in sushi, he is hoping to expand his raw fish empire beyond the South Park Bridge.
“We recommend flooding the Hog Island region with barbequed pork ribs from Big Hole Barbeque,” I told the mayor. “No kids are going to get addicted to sushi when barbequed ribs are available.
“It’s time to vote for Best of Jackson Hole!” Ndogo Uume replied. “I’m going to tweet that Andrew Munz is an overrated actor. I’m voting for Kjera Strom Henrie as Best Actor.”
I was exasperated. I wondered if Uume realized the seriousness of the situation. Strom Henrie doesn’t even do nude scenes.
“We’re talking the theft of beer and bacon and rampant sushi usage among our children,” I said, stunned.
“Hey,” he complained. “I can only do one tweet at a time.” PJH