Nice Mullet?

Dear Bloggers and Blogettes

I hope these Thanksgiving musings find you stuffed and coming out of your tryptophan comas.  It leaves my hands doing well on the couch watching the Cowboys beat the dolphins. (no tuna was harmed in the making of this football game.)

I usually like to take holidays off from blog writing but I saw something in the news yesterday that I felt should not pass without comment. 

I found this headline. "FBI Arrest Sam Mullett, 6 Others in Amish Haircutting Hate Crime." really Mr. or Ms editor? You're handed an opportunity like that, and you decide to add clarity with the hating haircutter's first name?

"FBI Arrest Mullett, 6 Others in Amish Haircutting Hate Crime.". Who were the other six? Paul Pixie?  Charlie Crew? Wendell Wedge? Billy Bob, Bernie Beehive? Stevie Shag?

I will leave accessing the facts to you. The following is a link to one of the many web articles on the subject.

http://www.newser.com/story/133973/fbi-arrests-sam-mullet-6-others-in-amish-haircutting-hate-crimes.html  If you don't like this one, surf around there are hundreds more. Sam, as they say, is a media sensation.

I will focus on wild speculation and groundless postulation.

What would possess Mr. Mullett to sponsor these heinous hate crimes? What caused him to lead the impressionable in his midst into an Amish cult, and turn them into hate filled beard cutters? Was he always a megalomaniac, or was there a defining moment that scared him and set him on his path to evil and mayhem?

I'll bet he came back from Rumspringa in the mid-70s. He decided to come back into the fold.  His hair was growing back after a bad haircut during his months of sowing his wild oats and salacious disco dancing. He gets back to the community and goes over to visit Sara Yoder. In Sam's absence, Sara is being courted by Jeremiah Yoder (no relation). It is a tense and awkward situation.

Sara, having a repressed fondness for bad hair cuts, notices Sam's mullet and says nice mullet Sam. But Sam's jealousy gets in the way and colors his perceptions. He hears niiiiice Mullet. He misperceives scorn and derision from his beloved Sara and goes storming out of the house, nursing his wounded pride, jumping in to his buggy and heading down the road to perdition, guided by his own misunderstanding.

Or. . . . What if this is all a huge practical joke played upon the international news media?

 It has long been common knowledge that the Amish don't recognize Thanksgiving. First off, Thanksgiving came about a century after the roaring 1690s; the timeframe that the Amish cling to.  They have no context for Thanksgiving, the holiday. Plus, what do they have to be thankful for? All of their apple products come from a tree. Cider, sauce, butter, crisp, fritters are all good, but can leave a sour taste in your mouth when compared to the iPod, iPad, iPhone, Mac, iMac, . . . . The lack of electricity, phones, running water, all sorely test the thankful spirit.  Couple winter trips during the night to the outhouse with a middle aged prostrate, you can see why a group of people may not be thankful in late November, and choose not to participate in this English party.

I know what you're saying. Sure Roger, you make a compelling argument for nonparticipating, but how do you get to a huge practical joke. Stick with me, you have to work at wild speculation. It isn't always obvious. That's why they call it wild.

The Amish, while living like its 1699, have always been rascals at heart. Through the years, their patience was sorely tried by the ignorance of well meaning English media who would ask for Thanksgiving human interest interviews. They patiently explained that while they both wore hats and black clothing, the pilgrims were Puritans, and they, the Amish were not. Besides, the Amish hats aren't adorned with buckles.

Finally after years of media bias and badgering, the bishops and the elders got together and decreed that as of 1999 the Amish would celebrate "Thanksgiving". However, rather than be co-opted by the English, Amish "Thanksgiving" would be a day of practical jokes and hilarity.

Eleven years later, enter Sam Yoder (no relation) and his band of half a dozen merry men. They were sitting around at the shucking bee drinking cider that may have gone a little south in early November. As consummate multitaskers, they were using the time to brainstorm ideas for this year’s "Thanksgiving" joke.

They were spitballing unspectacular ideas left and right when Wendell Yoder (no relation) suggested that they could open up a barber shop and give out free bad haircuts to their unsuspecting more serious neighbors. The hilarious part is that no one would know the cuts were bad because no one had mirrors. Then Billy Yoder (no relation) suggested that since they were bad haircuts, Sam could change his last name to Mullet. They would be the Mullet gang, and each of the Yoders (no relation) could change their names to alliterative bad hair cut names. A few hard ciders later, the complete plan had emerged.

While the execution may have been lacking, and a few of the more prudish members may have over reacted and called the FBI, things will get sorted out. Besides, somewhat ironically, they are international media superstars. In time, people's feelings will be soothed and by next November the Mullet gang will be sharing some cider trying to capture the magic of a really great “Thanksgiving” practical joke.

Niiiiiiiice Mullet.

Take care

Roger

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