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Q: What did the elephant say to his girlfriend?
A: “I love you a ton!”

Day 1
Dear Emile,
Thanks for da bird in the Pear tree. I fixed it las night with dirty rice an’ it was delicious. I doan tink the Pear tree would grow in de swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma.

Day 2
Dear Emile,
Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got was 2 scrawny pigeon. Anyway, I mixed them with andouille and made some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3
Dear Emile,
Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I’m tired of eating dem darned bird. I gave two of those prissy French chicken to Mrs. Fontenot over at Grand Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Mrs. Fontenot needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.

Day 4
Dear Emile,
Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem bird. Deez four, what you call “calling bird” wuz so noisy you could hear dem all da’ way to Lafayette. I used they necks for my crab traps, and fed the rest of dem to the gators.

Day 5
Dear Emile,
You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da’ pawn shop in Sulphur and got enough money to fix the shaft on my shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da boys at the Raisin’ Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6
Dear Emile,
Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg sucking Phideaux is scared to death ah dem six goose. He try to eat they eggs and they pecked the heck out ah his snout. Dem goose are damm good at eating cockroach around da’ house, though. I may stuff one ah dem goose with erster dressing to serve him on Christmas Day.

Day 7
Dear Emile,
I’m gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Ole Boudreaux, da mailman, is ready to kill you, too. The crap from all dem bird is stinkin up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and gonna sue him. I let dem seven swan loose to swim on da bayou and some stupid duck hunter from Mississippi done blasted dem out da water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8
Dear Emile,
Poor ole Boudreaux had to make 3 trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids-a-milking & der cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me. I told dem to get to work gutting fish and sweeping my shack–but dey say it wasn’t in their contract. They probably tink they too good to skin all dem nutria I caught las night.

Day 9
Dear Emile,
What you trying to do? Boudreaux had to borrow da Cameron Ferry to carry these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping across da bayou. As soon as dey got here dey wanted a tea break and crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, “Well la di d
A. You get Chicory coffee or nuthin.” Mon Dieux, Emile, what I’m gonna feed all these bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and da cow ate up all my turnip green.

Day 10
Dear Emile,
You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don’t kill you, I will. Today he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said they be “ladies dancing” but they doan act like ladies in front of dem Limey sailing boys. Dey almost left after one of them got bit by a water moccasin over by my out- house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and get toilet paper rolls. The Sears catalog wasn’t good enough for dem hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow.

Day 11
Dear Emile,
Where Y’at? Cherio and pip pip. You 11 Pipers Piping arrived today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jumbalaya, finished da whiskey, and we’re having a fais-do-do. Da’ new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniel, and he’s having a good old time dancing with the floozies. Da’ old mailman done jump off the Moss Bluff Bridge yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a mysterious-looking, ticking package in da mail, don’t open it.

Day 12
Dear Emile,
Me I’m sorry to tell you–but I am not your true love anymore. After the fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacque, the head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentlemen’s club on the bayou. The floozies–pardon me–ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and the lords can be the waiters and valet park da boats. Since da’ maids have no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping business. We’ll probably gross a million dollars next year.

Joyeaux Noel et Bonne Annee!

Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.

Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated, but they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his Ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife’s bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.

Some of us take these liberties so much for granted, but we shouldn’t. So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. It’s not much to ask for the price they paid.

Remember: freedom is never free!

I hope you will show your support by sending this to as many people as you can, please. It’s time we get the word out that patriotism is NOT a sin, and the Fourth of July has more to it than beer, picnics, baseball games, and 4 wheeling…

Q: What do you get if you deep fry Santa Claus?

A: Crisp Cringle.

Q: What did one snake say to the other snake?
A: Give me a little hug and a hiss, honey.



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