As all true Daughters of the South know (when they are reminded by their psycho Autie Belle) that James Ewell Brown Stuart was born on February 6, 1833. You know, “JEB” Stuart!

For you ignorant Yankees, JEB was a kickass Confederate Army general during the War Of Secession. As a cavalry commander, JEB was known for his dashing image (red-lined gray cape, yellow sash, hat cocked to the side with a peacock feather, red flower in his lapel) and his audacious tactics. His wild raids and daring recon missions made him the Robert Pattinson of the Civil War.

So on Saturday, I’m fixing to party like it’s 1861. I’m going to succeed from the Union, and form my own country that I’m going to call TexAmerica, which I’ll tell all about in some other blog.

I’d like ya’all to join me in a fandango across America. First, we should all form our pickups and tractors in a circle around the Trailer Park. If you are so underprivileged to have neither a pickup nor to live in a trailer park, just do the best you can. The rest of us will understand.

Next, dig out that big jug from under the sink, the light brown ceramic one with no label. Crank up Gretchen Wilson on your iPods. Put on your boot scootin boogie duds. And tune up your rebel yells. There’s a lot to do to get this hoedown right, so I’m going to read you from the book, starting with your decor.

Put up the Texamerica flag that I designed featuring Little Dickie Armeydillo. If you ain’t got yourself an official Noni Texamerica flag, then a Texas Lonestar flag, or the Rebel Battle flag will do. But you should show your country colors just like you would if we was all teabagging. Indiana flags don’t count.

Appetizers for the boys should include Slim Jims and pork rinds. For dessert, Fried Twinkies. If you’re feeling adventuresome, ask Aunt Cousin Jody Lee to make her famous Jello Surprize Mold. Main courses should be anything you can cook on a barbeque that don’t clash with potato salad.

Sing-along tunes should be like Kenny Chesney’s “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” or Alan Jackson’s “It’s Alright To Be A Redneck”. I identify with Gretchen’s “Redneck Woman”. Joe Diffie’s “John Deere Green” make me want to cry. Garth’s classic “I’ve Got Friends In Low Places” is probably the best singalong. In Texas, we don’t listen to the Dixie Chicks no more, but if you must, you can play “Goodbye Earl”. If you want a crossover dude, I like Kid Rock singing Sweet Home Alabama “All Summer Long”.

If you feel you need some western to balance all the country, how about Willie and Toby wailing “Whiskey For My Men, Beer For My Horses!” For your mandatory wet t-shirt pole dance contest I’m partial to “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” which Miley Cyrus likes, too, and I borrowed some sweet moves from her from her “Party In The USA” video.

Male attire for this fandango might be like DeKalb Seedcorn ballcaps, Marlboros rolled up in the sleeve of your green “Runs Like A Deer” t-shirt, clean pressed jeans, and steel toed engineers boots just in case somebody needs a right good stompin’. Mullet cuts are no longer cool. And don’t forget to carry your second amendment statement everwheres you go.

The female dress code might include a cowboy hat like mine, short-short cutoffs, tight t-shirt or K-Mart blouse rolled up to show off those situps, with either red cowboy boots or rhinestone-covered fckme pumps. Accessorize with bling bought in Vegas or a National Park. If you want to go nuevo-upscale, just wear whatever Lady GaGa or Lindsay Lohan do in their latest stupid escapade in the Star, which is where I get my best fashion ideas.

Our beer de jour depends on what part of the country your party is a happening. Of course, a premier Trailer Park in the deep south is best. But not everybody can be so lucky. I’m partial to Shiner beer. But Jax or Dixie will do the job. Pabst Blue Ribbon is a also a pretty good Bubba Beer. Well hell, get whatever beer is cheapest at the Connie’s Superette where your Mom worked when she let you rob it as a 14th birthday present.

If you’re the kind that goes for real drinks, there’s straight shots of Rebel Yell for the boys. Alabama Slammers are always nice for the little ladies. And Strip And Go Nakeds for everybody for when Cousin Heather gets a mite rowdy and takes off her top to relive how she danced on the bar at her wedding reception.

You should have some contests after when everybody finds their “Hell, Yeah!” spirit. These contests might involve spittin, pissin, and two-step dancin’. Maybe a tattoo contest that ain’t about how good the tat is, but best story that goes with it. I ain’t telling mine again, cause everybody just snickers. If you want to get really rowdy, and your cousins are understanding badge-totters, you might consider Party Favors (created in a basement laboratory by the neighborhood biker gang) that have a name like Iron Mike’s Crystal Zoom. But I don’t really recommend going thataway unless you need to be just a mite crazer to get your SSI disability.

I strongly recommend a row of portapoddies or Uncle Buford (or your family equivalent) might probably embarrass you again this year. And finally, remember not to sleep with cousins or closer, and keep your uncles away from the sheep. I really mean it.

I sashayed into a Sports Bar the other day fixing to meet my friend Heather who wanted to watch some ballgame for some reason.

The bar was a nice nuff place. The guys looked pretty much okay for guys who think watching 12 games at once and drinking shots and beers is the ultimate in multi-tasking.

All the boys were dressed nice, if Mets hats and Yankee jerseys are nice. I mean it wasn’t like there was a butt-crack lineup on the barstools or anything. A nice place… for a sports bar.

When I walked past by the bar to get to my friend’s table, I heard a guy say “seven”. Another said “seven point five”. Now that grinds at me something fierce. Since I lost almost 4 pounds and starting running again, I’m at least an 8.5. And after midnight, I’m a hard nine.

The thing that got me the most is that those dumbasses would have the cojones to rate me. Out loud.

I immediately thought I should stage a protest. Of course, my first thought is almost always to protest, but I thought, that’s not enough. I want revenge.

So I told Heather what happened and we decided our revenge would be “A Boyfriend Auction”. Isn’t that sweet?

We could dress them boys all up to show off their finest assets. Like in speedos. Or chaps. Or Mets hats, jocks, and socks. Or a tent where only their bare feet showed.

We could have each boyfriend have a theme song like “I’m Too Sexy” or JT’s “Sexy Back” or “You’re So Gay” or “M-A-N” or “I’m A Little Teapot”. They each do a little runway stroll to their music while we’d vote on ‘em.

Heather had a great idea. Instead of an elimination system, we could bid for them boys in alcohol. And each guy would get to drink his auction price.

What I like about Heather’s idea is that guys are so dumb that they might even do it for free drinks. Most guys we know would do anything for a free drink. And in an auction, they would each think they’d be worth a whole lot of drinks.

Heather and I don’t know when we’re going to hold the Boyfriend Auction. But soon. We just need to find some boyfriends first.

Campus SWAT Team Raids College Radio Station
by Patton Lee Beaugus

GPN News, NYC — In a special appearance at Connecticut station WCON, while protesting for intern rights, Noni the Intern of the Guy Comedy Network announced she was all natural, which is Texan for au naturale, which translates in Connectican into “birthday suit-time” or at least that’s what listeners thought.

A complaint was lodged by John Michael Pendley, a member in God’s good grace of the Campus Crusade For Christ. Pendley claimed Noni was making all the CCC members lose their inhibitions on clothing and proper deportment as Christians and were in a “pre-pagan-orgy mode” in the Christian Reading Room. “They were even discussing Darwin in a positive light.”

Chief Eric Derrick rushed down to the radio station with eight members of the University ROTC SWAT Team armed with glocks and rubber truncheons, and 316 students armed with phone cameras. They arrived only to discover that it was a phone interview — as in like being conducted over the telephone.

After showing his diappointment by kicking the “Keep Off The Grass” sign thru the WCON window, Chief Derrick stated that Noni’s gross actions and shameless behavior were an incitement to riot. He vowed to arrest Noni, if she ever set a foot on the campus.

“I’d like to see her try her naked protest stunts around a SWAT team with nightsticks and the ability to use them,” he said.

Noni The Intern was not available for comment, as she was busy giving it up at a PETA protest of G-Force to Pay The Gerbils SAG scale.

Information authenticated by Patton Lee Beaugus Public Relations
hypervaricating for the stars since 1067

I am Patton Lee Beaugus and I am currently searching for a blog voice. My current one is very squeaky and annoying, except when it is very deep and quite pretentious.

I think this will be a political satire kinda blog, but maybe I’ll be schlepping virtual Tupperwear or offering Russian brides that are so too good to be true, dummies will think they are true and send me money for airfare.  Time will tell.

Until I get my act together, my imaginary friends will help me out.  Sensei Yo, Noni The Intern, and the MixMaster Pre will be sharing their psychotic world views.