This is Chip. [picture of happy little beaver youth]
Chip is a beaver, and like most beavers, he knows the value of hard work. Chip’s Mommmy and Daddy are Republicans, and they worked very hard to build the place where Chip’s family lives. Chip of course, being a child, has no political affiliation. But he knows what makes sense. Before Chip was even born, his Mommy and Daddy went to the woods on the banks of the river, and felled trees by working very hard, for days on end, until the trees could be brought to the right place. [pic: Mommy beaver gnawing on tree, Daddy maneuvering one into place across a narrow spot in the river. Woodpecker looks on approvingly]
Over a long, long time, Chip’s Mommy and Daddy got enough wood to build this house, where the whole beaver family lives, and they maintain the dam which keeps up the pond. Many fish live in the pond, so they are happy the dam is there. Other animals eat the fish, and they are also happy that the dam is there. This is the way nature works, and sometimes, one kind of animal will eat another in order to survive. Usually, there are no hard feelings. [picture of a fish grinning, in the mouth of a bear, which is lumbering past the dam with the lodge in the background. Chip looks on from the safety of the lodge].
When dangerous animals come to the pond, the Republican beavers warn the other animals by slapping the surface of the pond with their big flat tails. SMACK! Republicans are simply better equipped to deal with issues of security. [picture of unsavory-looking badger skulking away from Daddy as Daddy sounds the alarm. As Daddy sounds the alarm, his big flat tail and surprisingly large testicles are featured. Other animals spot the badger]
Beavers, being Republicans, know that there is no room in any pond for those who will not work, or who try to live by stealing the work of others. Weasels, rats, cockroaches and bushy-tailed squirrel Democrats are like this. [picture of familiar-looking (from that other book) squirrel family sneaking into a woodpecker hole, throwing the woodpecker eggs onto the ground below]
One day, Daddy got a letter in the mail from the town council. The letter said that some residents of the pond felt threatened by the tail-slapping. There was more too, but it was written in a style which is not used in this pond, and was hard to read. Daddy was pretty puzzled by this, and went to ask his friend Mister Bear what it could mean. [picture of Daddy scratching head while bear puts on spectacles, gripping letter in great big paw. fishbones in background, homeless woodpecker picking over for scraps]
“Well, Chuck, it says here that the town council got some complaints about your tail-slapping. Said it scared somebody. Says you can’t do it anymore. Also says you never got an environmental impact statement completed before you started chopping down trees, and that the fish around here are–hey, that’s not right! [pic: bear getting red in the face, starting to holler as he reads this to Daddy, who looks gut-punched]
“How can they say that?” asked Daddy. “This pond is what sustains all of us alive here. It protects us from predators. You know what I mean, Isaac. It also gives the fish a place to live, it gives you fish to eat, it keeps the water level high enough to sustain a great crop of berries every year… I don’t get it. And smacking my tail on the pond is the only thing that keeps that badger family from killing us all! Well, maybe not you, bear, but most of us.” [pic of Daddy getting cross, and starting to holler himself]
“Hey, looky here,” said the bear, “The original complaint came from that squirrel family in Woody’s old house. Ah, now I recognize this strange style of writing–it’s liberal double-talk!”
“What? Those idiots? All they have done is throw the woodpecker out of his house and use it to stash their stolen nuts so they won’t have to work over the winter!”
“Well, that’s not all they do up there, Chuck. I get by there about twice a day, and there’s always some kind of odd-smelling smoke wafting out of the woodpecker hole. I think there’s about thirty of them living in there. I have seen more than twenty go in, one right after the other, with none coming out. Woody and his family are staying at my place until they can get a new place.”
Republicans, you see, believe that communities of individuals will take care of each other
“Well, Isaac,” said Daddy Beaver, “Why don’t we go put this to rights. This so-called town council ought to keep its business in its own town, and I’m certainly not taking directions from these ‘pecker tossers!”
So Mister Bear and Daddy Beaver went to the squirrels’ house in what used to be the woodpecker’s tree. They had to pick their way past piles of garbage and the sad spattered remains of woodpecker eggs sacrificed for the convenience of Democrats. [picture of dead chicks among eggshells, and a sign in bright pink letters that says A.N.S.C.H.L.U.S.S.–ACT NOW to SUPPORT COMMUNISTS and HELP LESBIANS UNDERMINE SOCIAL STANDARDS.
Daddy shouted up at the useless liberal squirrels. “Hey, you, come out where we can talk to you! What’s the idea firing off letters to some far away council about what goes on in our pond? Why couldn’t you talk to me about my dam and the pond we all share?”
But there was no answer from the hippie commune in the sky. Mister Bear reached back and withdrew a long black steel and wood thing which he proudly announced was called a shotgun. “It’s a Mossberg,” said Mister Bear with a wide grin, “and it’s one sure way to get their attention.” [pic: bear with shotgun and wide grin, Daddy looks on, startled]
Before Daddy could say anything, Mister Bear swung the huge gun right up to his shoulder and cheek, and the calm of the woods was shattered by a resounding CLICK! “Shit!”, said the bear, in the woods. The gun had not fired for some reason.
But no sooner had the sound of the hammerclick died away than the whole squirrel “family”, all forty-seven of them, came streaming out of the woodpecker hole, and ran wild-eyed along the branches and up and down the trunk of the tree while chattering excitedly and crapping themselves.
“H-h-hey m-m-man!” exclaimed a particularly hairy squirrel with a bad stutter, as he shook the crap from a hind claw. “Are you trying to k-k-kill us all, man? What’s the deal? I mean, are you like, tr-tr-trying to kill everybody? Th-th-that’s not c-c-cool, man.”
One of the female squirrels called to him, “Hey, Neil, don’t bother talking to those thugs. See that shotgun? Those claws, those teeth, the frightening flat tail on the little one? They’re not Democrats, they don’t have any brains, they oppress and murder the fish, they rape the land of the berries, and they even have the homeless families picking through their garbage to support their lifestyles!”
Neil a decent but dim character. Harriet not really a squirrel, but a shrew, and a commie! Gloria, her counterpart. “This is feminism? You’re not even female anymore!” SOpirWhorf. Lnguage controls ideas, and we will control the language. 1984. cute but deep debate which is unresolved–but what makes sense?
[bear produces a shotgun, but wonders about the legality of firing it] “If a bear shoots in the woods, would anybody hear it?”
Also something about peckers and beavers. And keeping bear arms. The right of a bear to keep arms? Republicans appreciate the value of, and know how to treat a beaver.