[While I was on vacation last week, I missed for several days the news that provocateur and general nutcase Alex Jones reported on his “show” that the Democratic Party was planning to prosecute a “Second Civil War” commencing on July 4, 2018. This pronouncement, happily, exposed Mr. Jones to a torrent of ridicule on social media which took the form of letters home from soldiers–a la one of the narrative devices Ken Burns used in his highly acclaimed documentary series The Civil War–fighting this imaginary conflict. Below you will find the contribution to this literary project from a lifelong friend of mine who writes this kind of stuff (check out those sturdy, nineteenth-century abstract nouns) very well, which impelled me to post it here. If you want a copy of this letter, here it is as a Word document. Enjoy!]
My Dearest Brittany,
I hope that this dispatch finds you recovered from your accouchement, and that the baby has recovered from the ague. The demesne from which I send this letter is Thistlecrotch, Kentucky, although, I confess that I don’t know where your next text message will find me.
At this date, our unit is entirely intact, with no wounds having been suffered, despite an engagement with the rebels a fortnight ago. Two Saturdays last, our ten scouts discovered the main enemy encampment of the 11th Tennessee Regulars (The infamous “Vestigial Tailed Brigade.”)
The rebel encampment included persons of both sexes, and most were bedded down with their mates when discovered by our scouts. Unfortunately, our scouts were discovered and pursued by those rebels who were awake, the members of the 13th Incel Battalion (“The Fighting Cousin-less.”) This unit, rather than having retired, was awake “furbishing its weaponry.”
Our scouts, being vastly outnumbered, fled with the rebels in pursuit. Capture seemed imminent until the rebels were distracted when their battle hymn, “Freebird”, cycled up on a playlist in one of their trucks. The rebel trucks passed directly over our scouts, causing no injury however, as our tallest scout is but six feet five inches tall.
The scouts circled and returned to our encampment. Curiously, they were followed by the rebel commander, General Nugent, who had badly soiled his breeches, and was begging to surrender.
After being placed in leg irons and threatened with a meatless meal, the vain and conceited dandy, Nugent betrayed his fellow rebels, providing us with the strength, equipage, and materiel of his brigade. The blackguard also confessed that a full two-thirds of his troops were ill with the bloody flux, due to the embouchure from whence the rebels drew their water having been located directly downstream from a leaking oil pipeline.
We made plans to attack the rebel encampment at dawn the next morning. While assembling the troops before Dawn, our camp was approached by the remainder of the enemy officer corps, including Colonels Hannity, Pruitt, Ryan & McConnell, all weeping and carrying white flags. Egad!
After a brief cannonade, we carried off the dawn attack, forsooth over-running the leaderless and panicked enemy shortly after sunrise. 600 enemy soldiers were taken captive. Of them, fifty were wounded, all of them medicable. Of the fifty, forty died after refusing to be bandaged with gauze delivered in packages labeled “Government Issue.” The remaining ten survived their wounds, most of which consisted of shots to the feet.
We have received orders to proceed in a southward direction. Methinks that the cause may be victorious, and the rebel pissmires defeated within the year. I wait for that glorious day, and my return to you.
This from your devoted husband,