(Editors note: This article is a submission from Treehorn correspondent Roger Ninepipe, who should not be confused in any way with Carlton Ninepipe, or me for that matter. KR)
Eleven years ago, at a Willie Nelson concert I was set upon grievously by a wirey Obama. It was a sunny summer eve, and I had just purchased a Farm-aid trucker hat. I was adjusting the size band to get the fit right, when out of nowhere this thin fellow appeared from the shadows, grabbing at my new cap. "Aah-Haa!" I shouted, and quickly delivered a fancy asian style foot-move to bring him to his knees. Although he was weakened, I noticed his crazy eyes were looking for another angle of attack. "I got to have that hat, man!" he shouted. I could see then that he had no eyebrows. I was momentarily distracted by this observation, and the Obama took advantage and snatched the cap off my head and sprinted through the crowd. I made quick pursuit but was no match for his high-stepping maneuverability. I was most struck by the freakish wails and shrieks that he produced as he made his escape. I was greatly bothered by the theft, but recovered with an herbal remedy and found my space. I enjoyed the rest of the show with the peace of mind that only Willie, with his pragmatic self-styling, could accomplish.
As I made my way back to my car after the show, I was shocked to come across this Obama! There, in the back of an aging yellow Toyota pickup, stood my hat thief. Gesturing wildly, he was delivering some sort of speech to a small but enthused crowd of hillbilly mountain folk. I slipped closer, but was careful not to be noticed as I sized the situation. "This is it, my people!", he declared over the group. "I believe in two things, and one of those is homemade corn-squeezins!", which brought a roar of toothless approval from the country crowd. "Hell Yeah!", He had my hat pulled down, nearly obscuring his eyes. I could however notice that his vision was focused into the dusty bed of the truck where he had placed a series of cue-cards that guided his rant. He clearly was energizing the now sizeable group, and I knew that my window of opportunity to retrieve the hat was quickly closing. At that moment, a bronze Cadillac in the next space pulled away, parting the crowd momentarily. My chance provided, I leapt quickly into the truck bed and snatched the hat from the Obama head!
I careened away, just escaping his flailing arms. Using the wake of the Caddy, I cut from the crowd and was gone. With only a glancing look back I saw the hillbilly folk swallow the Obama in their inbred embrace, his eyebow-less shock painted forever into my mind. Later I found a packet of Zig-Zag rolling papers tucked in my hat band. Scrawled across the Aqualung look-alike were with the words "disce aut discede". I had a feeling then, that I would be seeing more of this home brewed politico.
(This is the first installment of Ninepipe's "Obama Chronicles". Next: Mind-crime at the Oregon Country Fair.
