THE PALE HORSE SHRIEKS FOR PIG MEAT

By

Jimmy Joe Meeker

Originally published in The Wilson County Advocate, Vol. 1, No. 7 July 30, 1991 Donald W. Gillette

“Blot out his name, then,

record one lost soul more,

One task more declined,

One more footpath untrod.”

-Robert Browning

“The Lost Leader”

The pale horse shrieked last week for County Commissioner Gilbert Graves, but Graves was among the missing.

Reports have him in hiding, waiting nervously for the banshee to pounce on his tired, old bones as citizens (and the boys from the Capitol) come closer to him and his rapidly fleeing long-time political cronies.

In a weird and bizarre way, it is sad. This overblown Neanderthal has ruled Wilson County politics for so long, that his demise is somewhat akin to the passing of a torch. His whimpering escape from the demons he created reminds me of Roman Emperor Tiberius, a wanton, foolish, power monger who was finally done in by his grandson, Caligula, and Macro, chief of the Roman Guard.

In another way, his political demise is so damned funny we should all dance in the streets.

Here is a man who bought and sold his way through our pockets for years; a man who accused the innocent, befriended the guilty, helped the powerful, shunned the needy, and spit in our faces for his own gratification.

Damn you, Graves. Damn you for your egotism, your belligerence, your ignorance, for your lies, and your arrogance.

And damn you for what you have done to this county.

Wilson County is not now, nor has it ever been, a kingdom; it is a democratic republic established for the good of all men; not just you and your friends.

Now your power is gone; no one listens to you anymore. And voters will never forget.

“Let their way be dark and slippery; and let the angel of the Lord persecute them.”

-Psalms 35:8

You had a shrewd plan—for Cuba or Nicaragua—but the people of Wilson County are not downtrodden servants of your master design. They’ve seen you for the sinister wretch you are.

Now, try one more fast deal while you still can. And then lurk in those wet, dark places where fungus grows until the people find you and grind your greedy bones into dust.

No one here gets out alive.

XXX