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Best of Burger

  Burger as St. Gypsy Woman

The Best of Burger (1949 - 1998) is a compilation of articles and columns written by Michael "Burger" Scoggins. Burger was a musician, mystic and friend to many that played around Little Rock until his untimtely death in 1998. May he rest in peace! Well, he was resting in peace until we dredged up some of his early musings.

In addition to "Horrorscopes", he occasionally shared his musings on various subjects... as "Dear Flabby".

Dear Flabby,

I wanted to write to you because I keep reading Star magazines and the worst part is that sometimes I believe it!!! In one magazine I read that a woman gave birth to an alien! And Elvis was spotted on the moon and a kid gave birth to his brother and the brother lived for 5 days.

All my girlfriends and ex-girlfriends believe all of it (I got them hooked).

Well, my Mom, Dad, brother and sister are all mad at me because I read it!!

Did you hear that Dolly Parton was going to replace Delta Burke or that Saddam goes to bed with five girls a night or that the USA is trying to make reforms in the Middle East!

(Why US?)

Well, I want to ask you how I stop this gross habit.

P.S. Please give me at least 4 or 5 ways.


Really Crazy
Yes, Me

Dear Yes Me,

I will list five ways to stop:

1. Pin a note on your shirt, like a baby, saying "No Maga­zines."
2. Have someone write something about you and have them put it in Star.
3. If you feel the urge to read something, read Nightflying.
4. Tear off a page of Star at a time and use it for toilet paper.
5. When you get the urge to read it, pluck your eyebrows.

Good Reading,

A Literarily Appreciated

Dear Flabby,

My nose hairs are way too long but my religious upbringing forbids the cutting of hair. This wouldn't be a big problem except that I just got back in my church after proving that my seizure disorder commonly known as St Vitus dance did not constitute a recreational activity, and I don't want to get into trouble again.

Furthermore, I am being forced to wear dresses at ankle length, which is not only out of fashion, but most people think it looks funny on a guy, which I am. Also, and I don't want to sound like a chronic whiner, my father, who's the preacher in our church, is a snake handler. That would be okay, except he makes us kids catch 'em for him, which takes all day Saturday and most of Saturday night, which is my only time off from school (except Sunday and you can guess what I do all day Sunday).

Anyway, how'm I ever gonna be able to fit in with the kids my age with all this weird stuff going on in my life? I need help and I need it bad. Bear in mind that my Pop still believes in all that "spare the rod and spoil the child" stuff. If you don't have time to advise on all I've asked, just concentrate on the snake thing. My cousin Wilford Joe got bit on the big toe two weeks ago Saturday by the nastiest ol' bush rattler you ever saw. If we hadn't hung him from the loft and lanced his toe with a hay hook, he would've croaked for sure. As it was his leg swole up and turned more colors than a 64 crayon box of Crayolas.

Bless you and hurry.
Buck Head

Dear Buck,

I think what you've told me is a perfect example of today's bitchy, spoiled, snot-nosed youth....

Here you are struttin' around town with long hair, doin' some kind of modern dance step that you jokingly refer to as a medical problem, dressed up as a girl, then you gripe about not fitting in with your little preppy school crowd. You gripe about helping your father then gripe some more about getting the ass-beating you no doubt deserve.

Listen up, buddy boy, and listen good: It's time little snots like you shut up and learn to appreciate the religious freedom that guys like your Pop have suffered to preserve for ungrateful little pigs like you. Straighten up and tell your cousin Wilford Joe that if he'd wear shoes like a decent citizen he wouldn't get snake-bit!

The Right Rev. Flabby

Dear Flabby,

When I grow up I wanna be just like you.

Albert Schweitzer Einstein Bach Redford

Dear Dude,

Don't you never change, you compassionate, intelligent, good-looking fellow, you.


Dear Flabby,

I am an elderly gentleman in excellent health and a successful businessman. In fact, I am a millionaire many times over. I am happily married to a woman who knows her place and keeps her mouth shut. I'm from a large southern state with a general grossly overblown perception of its national importance, if you know where I mean.
I am thinking about running for public office and I need some tips on how to put a shine on my public image. There'll be a fat consultant's fee check in the mail for you if your advice is good.

H. R. P.

Dear H. R. P.,

Avoid using "I" so often; apologize to your unfortunate wife; get over that arrogant Texas thing; let your hair grow out and pin back your ears. Quit braggin' about your money in a way which implies that being wealthy somehow qualifies you to do anything beside make more money and, above all, either say something when you speak or don't speak...

Elder Statesman Flabby
P. S. Forget the check... send cash.


We'll post more Best of Burger as the muse strikes, so check back often!

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"The more you observe politics, the more you've got to admit that each party is worse than the other..." — Will Rogers

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