You’d Better Bring a Dump Truck

by The Butcher!

Yes! I stole this from the Beatles. So sue me! I need the publicity.

I’m having to tighten up my game. The Butcher Shop has turned 15 years old. It was never meant to be a blog or anything like it. It was a filing cabinet. It was just a place to put ideas by Ted Clevenger and I for later use. One of the ideas was A Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin. The whole BOOK! When we began to write for the Tea Party Tribune the “filing cabinet” served as a handy place to develop the articles until they were published. As you know, the Tribune morphed into The Butcher Shop, and from one article on a back page we became all three front page articles every day for over two years! It was along about this time that we changed our name to The Butcher Shop. But, it weren’t easy. Let me tell you the story.

The change from my name to The Butcher Shop stemmed from a policy of The Tribune. The Trib would not publish any articles from anyone but approved writers. They had accepted me as a writer but rejected any writer not specifically approved by the staff of the Trib. I was at a crossroads. On the one hand it was flattering that I was one of the “in” crowd, even if I was consigned to a back page, while on the other I had dozens of excellent writers submitting their work to me for publication on what was now a recognized blog no matter WHAT I called it. Whenever I submitted anything not stamped Wilbur Witt the Tribune would not run it. Not even by the venerable Crystal Lee Laramore! What to do?

I called the Trib and respectfully asked if I could change my name to Bill the Butcher. I reasoned that since I now wrote for a national publication I needed a pen name, and The Child Protective Services referred to me as “The Butcher.” My true name was “Bill” so logically I could refer to myself as “Bill the Butcher.” Also, the name alluded to the character in a hit movie. They bought the idea!

Now, if you understand I’m not the most honest guy in the world, you will also understand that I had a alternative motive. Behind my new moniker was a drove of very good writers, doomed to obscurity by a corporate rule. So . . . “Bill the Butcher” began to submit articles penned by Wilbur Witt, but they weren’t all written by Wilbur. A good portion of them were written by Ted Clevenger, Crystal Lee Laramore, Peter Ehlers, The Apostle Claver, George Rodriguez, Chappy Gypsy Roberts, Doc Greene, and so many others too numerous to mention here! here. Writers from London to L.A. from advisors to presidents to a little girl I’d met at a rally in Austin forever known as Little Mary, all masquerading as “Bill the Butcher!” And the Trib never caught on!

I knew that this would eventually wear thin. The styles were just too different. By this time Bill the Butcher was so paramount that to exclude him would cancel fifty percent of the content so I requested that “Bill the Butcher” become “The Butcher Shop,” and in a brilliant stroke the Trib agreed. Butcher Shop articles began to float up in other publications, some mainstream, and what had been a “filing cabinet” became a job.

Each day begins with a benediction from Vic Quinton, another Butcher Shop writer. A Christian article (Suck it up Muslims) to start the day. Usually there is two memes, It’s a Morning, a nice picture letting everyone know that it’s a new day, and finally The Bug Of the Day, so named for a delightful little girl living in “Plain Ol’ Texas” who even smiles at the dentist. From there we proceed to various articles from The Shop addressing everything from Congress to Corn on The Cob, and all subjects in between.

Recently The Butcher Shop has teamed up with The Liberty Beacon. Roger Landry has developed a show using my very own granddaughter, The Puck, in a show just for kids! He also publishes articles by The Butcher Shop, and in return The Shop runs Beacon stuff. It’s a win win situation. This last week I filled in for “V” on RBN (Republic Broadcast Network) as V healed from oral surgery. Sneaky as I am, I brought the Puck on during the last week and to my knowledge she became the first fifteen year old girl to host a major radio show.

We all search for fame and fortune. And if you say you aren’t, lie to yourself, don’t lie to me. But there is something more. It’s called legacy. Something you leave behind that can’t be counted. Something you can’t define. It’s the little girl in the ninth grade in fifty years who stands up in class to read her essay on the writings of a little newspaper group from Texas known as The Butcher Shop. And we will all smile knowingly from whatever compartment God has consigned us to. And, if you wanna dig dirt on us you’d better bring a dump truck!

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