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John Boston: Generic Palmdale Xmas Letter #20

How Beige Was My Valley

Posted: December 24, 2008 6:39 p.m.
Updated: December 25, 2008 4:55 a.m.
 
Dear Friends, Family and Parole Officer Detective Bartell:

This can't be 20 years I've been sending out the Xmas letter. But I checked 'cause 20 years ago November I was birthing Bobby Dale behind the Antelope Valley Grange. I can't believe I'm nearly 34.

I can't say 2008's been a kind year to our Antelope Valley kin, but we've relished some small moral victories. As you may already have seen from the windows of Walmart, Clove's half-brother, Berton Urnee, is famous. The AV Sheriff's Dept. used his booking photo for their holiday "This Is Your Brain on Meth" campaign and paid him with 50 posters plus a reduced sentence. Bert's handing them out as Xmas cards.

Eunice had an operation to become a lesbian and is healing nicely. Medical paid for it.

I know the holidays are the times when we're supposed to be grateful, but it seems our family has some yard-thick rubber band attached to our spines, keeping us from advancing. The twins had just been released from that store-bought prison outside California City and the redneck clowns were caught celebrating in the AV Zoo after hours.

Drunk, Edness and Redness fell into the Palmdale Living Desert Exhibit and the former lost much of the left side of his face from a peccary attack. Edness passes along thanks for the get-well cards, but notes he could really use a hockey mask for Christmas, some bottled water and maybe some prostitutes. Redness was not hurt, but, being still attached Siamese, he states it tweaks his neck wrong while his brother performs the county-mandated rehab exercises.

On the bright side, they got the wild pig that got them. It's only 3 pounds, but it will be our proud Xmas dinner centerpiece. You know our family motto: Anything you kill yourself always tastes better.

I'm not saying all things are bad out here in the high desert. We're in the midst of a White Christmas. We had as much as 12 inches stay on the ground. Black ice caused a double-rig to jackknife right outside Mojave and Great Grandpa Ewing made off with about 300 cartons of Lee Press-on Nails from the smoldering wreckage. GG is 106 next month and is still staring at the instructions, figuring just where you're supposed to hit them with a hammer.

Janegoodal - you know, Clare's daughter named after the chimp lady? - got wed in a double ceremony and had her sixth child by a sixth and possibly seventh husband. We're still trying to figure out the math ourselves but the little monkey girl explains it had something to do coming home drunk from a Chumash casino during the March Thaw and blearily recalls ending up in two trailers simultaneously. The baby shower is on the 29th and Janey's asking for smokes and one of those $19.95 Ronco DNA fatherhood kits they sell out of Rite-Aid.

Frank is out of the hospital with a new heart valve. Frank was just visiting Curt, who, as you recall from the AV Press headlines had unsuccessfully attempted to jump the California Aqueduct on a 19cc Yamaha two-stroke. Anyway. Times being tough, Frank just picked up this Tupperware labeled "Heart Valve" and pocketed it, figuring if he couldn't sell the wiggly little sucker, it was at least the right size for bait. Irene, his Eskimo mail-order bride, socked him good, but Frank got to keep the valve on account he had been playing with it and it got all dirty from Frank's mitts and would be of no good to any Christian now. Irene knows certain people have been calling her a "Cold War Bride" behind her back and asks if certain people could please stop.

Bathsheba, Eunice's 600-pound daughter, is likewise hospitalized. The doctors muttered something about "putting salt on her hot dogs" and told her to quit.

Barbara the Biker got offered a job! She was home, watching Oprah, when one of those cold-callers from The Los Angeles Times inquired if she'd like either a subscription or job as editor. She thanked them nicely, but explained she was on disability and suspected she was being videotaped and that work might compromise her payments.

Hope you got the photos Jedikiah e-mailed from Fish & Game from Edna's funeral. Got her butt splattered on the radiator of a Peterbilt whilst bending over to retrieve roadkill on 138. Possum, we believe. Edna's kid, Bryannn, delivered a stirring eulogy and surprised us when he confessed that he didn't actually have three N's to his name. His mother just stuttered and it somehow spread to the birth certificate.

Millie and Buelle, who homesteaded off 12,019th Street at the San Andreas Fault, had their double-wide carried off by feral dogs. Somehow, about 300 strays organized and I don't know whether they were clever enough to disconnect stuff first, but them mutts just got under M&B's trailer, counted to three and hoisted it off its foundation. Dragged the trailer to the Devil's Punchbowl and picked that pathetic sliding door lock.

Buelle made it to the top and picked off several of them with his old Enfield, but they ate Millie. Strangest thing is that Buelle lost his first wife, Linda, in a similar fashion when he was away during the Gulf War. Mind you, he didn't fight in it. He was just - away. Buelle took hell, by the way, from AV PETA for shooting feral dogs out of season.

Well. That about wraps up Palmdale Family Christmas Newsletter #20. If any of y'all-all were lucky enough to draw my name, I'd surely love if Santa'd bring the Golden Edition Collector Set of "Sons of Anarchy." On Beta. Palmdale/Lancaster pretty much shuts down when those righteous boys roar into our living rooms via cable.

John Boston has earned 117 major and, frankly, alleged national, regional and California awards for writing stuff. His column? Fridays and Sundays in The Mighty Signal.

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