At five years of age Michael stood outside the doors to The Candy Mountain Doris Day Elementary School. That morning he had cried after having had He-Man: Defender of America turned off by his mother and being led out to the bus stop. He had kicked and screamed as Minerva pushed him up the steps of the big yellow vehicle. To the shock of all on board and the other mothers in the street he threw his brown paper bag to the floor, from which rolled his apple. He stared through the window as the bus pulled away in a cloud of black smoke, tears in his eyes. As Minerva watched her son trundle down the road she gave a sigh of relief that America had not signed the Kyoto Treaty, otherwise she would have had to walk him the 100 metres to school.
Michael, thirty seconds after having taken his seat, was pushed to his feet and out onto the sidewalk [pavement] where he stood before the doors. Mrs. Applebank describes his first day:
"I watched from the bars of the class window as all the children ran into the building, but one little boy, Michael, was stood staring up at the stairs crying. I went outside and led him inside and once he'd been through the metal detector and the security guards had frisked him we found out which class he was in and it turned out he was in mine. So I showed him to the classroom and he just stopped in doorway. Now, I thought he was crying again, but he wasn't, he just stared and stared and I couldn't for the life in me think what he was staring at and the kids were all at their desks nervously quiet and they looked at him. And then he walked to the corner of the room where the flag was and he just stood staring up at it. I walked over to him and asked him if he'd like to take a seat and he looked at me and then back at the flag and then back at me. Then he pushed back his little shoulders, nodded once and took his seat. He sat up very straight and watched for the rest of the class."
Minerva explains what happened when Michael arrived home:
"The change was incredible. He got off the bus very happy and I asked him how he'd gotten on and he said 'I pledged alligance to the flag.' And that was that. The next morning he took his lunch and an extra apple for Mrs. Applebank and got on the bus with a light in his eyes."
Michael worked hard at school so that America would be pleased, studying his times tables every night and practising for spelling Bs (despite the fact it being only one letter). On one occasion Michael was working so hard that he wet himself.
"Bless him, it was so funny," says Mrs. Applebank. "He was writing about the White House and he was writing so hard and being very careful with his handwriting and he wanted so much to finish it that he just sat there and let it flow."
It was during his time at Candy Mountain Doris Day Elementary School that Michael met Karen, his first love.
"It all began when we were sat in class," tells Karen. "I sat on the second row, behind Michael, and one day he turned around and asked if he could borrow my red Crayola for the stripes on his picture of the flag, because it had to be the perfect shade. He didn't want to offend the flag. So I gave it him and he began coloring [colouring] it in and I remember after a few seconds he turned around and starting yelling at me, like it was so stupid, he said it was too dark and that his picture was ruined. I'd never seen him like that, he was usually so quite, but it was like his eyes had almost gone red, as though he were demon possessed or something. I remember the whole class went silent as he shouted at me and threw the Crayola at me. I couldn't believe it. Mrs. Applebank sent Michael to the principal [headmaster] and that was that. But later in the yard [playground] he came up to me and apologised and told me that he'd done it because he liked me. So after that we started holding hands and sharing our sandwiches at lunch, but the other kids mocked us and sang about us sitting in trees and laughed and I was fine with that, but Michael wasn't. Could have been First Lady by now."
Michael indeed disliked the mockery and quickly ended his brief relationship with Karen.
The future President's weekly visits to Church with his parents did little to help him develop his knowledge of Christ as the preacher continued his single word sermons, but he did enjoy the hymns and squeaked away with the choir women as they sang Amazing Grace and Oh Happy Day every week. His television tastes also changed and when he was not reading books about politics and The Candy Mountain Gazette he watched The West Wing and could often be heard shouting criticisms at its inaccuracies. Minerva explains:
"We tried to tell him it was just a TV show, you know, fiction, but he said that fiction should represent reality and we could always hear him shouting 'No, that's so wrong', or 'The President wears Armani suits, not Prada'. He knew a lot about politics, but we never thought he'd make it to the White House, oh no."
"I remember Michael very fondly," says Mrs. Applebank. "He was a nice boy, quiet, worked very hard."
Friday, 23 May 2008
Monday, 28 April 2008
Chapter 2 - First Steps to the White House
Michael's early years in Candy Mountain, Texas, where ones he would go on to fondly remember. The town, a lush green hill in the middle of the desert, was surrounded by American flags growing in the fields. The roads were made of yellow bricks and lollipops grew on the trees. The lamp posts were made of candy sticks and bubble gum chimneys topped gingerbread houses. The sun always shines in America, except when horror movies are being filmed, that is, and everyone walked around with smiles on their faces.
Minerva and John were doting parents and loved their son very much, showing their affection for their third child by dressing him in a hat like the Coronel and in a little stars and stripes jump suit. Women passing in the street cooed at him in his pram and smiled down at the handsome baby that peered up at them from the blanket.
Michael's educational development was rapid. At six months his parents took their son to Washington D.C. It was at this point that Michael uttered his first words. Minerva tells how it happened:
"We were stood at the gates to the White House. I remember it was a beautiful day, the sun, of course, was shining and there were flags everywhere and we'd just eaten a good, nutritional McDonalds and the walls of the oval office were gleaming in the brightness. I remember little Michael's blue eyes opened wide as he saw the building and he pointed at it and said 'White House'. It was so cute."
Michael's voice was, however, a cause for concern. The high pitched squeak with which he spoke resulted in dogs running towards the pram in which he lay and was considered highly unmanly for a true American. Medical examinations failed to reveal the cause of the problem and doctors were unable to cite the root of Michael's condition. His parents, however, realised that this was a result of his delayed birth and John often chastised his wife for not pushing harder.
"I knew what the problem was," he says, "we all did. I'm sorry to say I blamed Minerva, it wasn't her fault of course, but dang nabbit, I was worried about my boy. How could I take him down the football field when he grew up with a voice like that? How would he ever be able to call for a hotdog at the big game?"
Despite these setbacks, Michael was a happy child and often played in the garden of his home beneath the candy floss clouds. One day, as he was running out for the ice cream van, he tripped and fell.
"Hot diggety, I felt for the kid," says Burt Bush, the friendly local ice cream man. "He fell so hard on those rough yellow bricks and blood trickled from his knee. He screwed up his little face so tight that I thought he were gonna burst into tears. But d'ya know what he did? D'ya know what he did? He sang the national anthem. [Burt, at this point, wipes a tear from his eye.] He sang it so well in that little high pitched voice of his. It was beautiful. I gave him an ice cream for free."
Michael's accident reassured John and Minerva of the manliness of their son, because real American men don't cry. Ever.
Michael spent much of his time watching television, especially Sesame Street, at which he would often giggle at the big yellow bird and recite the letters of the alphabet. He often questioned his mother why one of them lived in a trash can [i.e. a rubbish bin] and wondered why the authorities failed to eject such a hobo from the country. John and Minerva just smiled, proud at their son's Americaness. Sesame Street started him reading and he plunged into wonderful child literature such Puddle Lane, Where's Wally? and Bif, Chip and Kipper.
When Michael was four he was taken to his first ball game. John recounts the experience:
"It was a wonderful sunny day and we had hot dogs and those big foam hands with the finger pointing upwards and things were going great. The Candy Mountain Powerpuffs were three up and had scored a number of home runs when Michael decided he was going to cheer for his team. Well, that little squeaky voice there got all the men around looking at him and they turned real nasty. They'd had a few beers [John means Budweisers, an American imitation of beer] and they didn't like that a boy talked like a girl. Well, we had to get out of there real quick or little Mickey wouldn't have survived to see the White House next summer."
The family attended Candy Mountain Baptist Church every Sunday, where Pastor Jonny B. Goode preached the same sermon each week, in which he merely shouted "Chaaaaange" while jumping around the front. He explains his motives for such reptitive preaching:
"The Lord spoke to me when I started my ministry, I said he spoke to me and he said Jonny, Jonny he said, you gonna instill chaaaaaange in those good brothers and sisters of Candy Mountain. You gonna instill chaaaaaange there, he said. He didn't tell me what that chaaaaaange was and I still waiting on the Lord to tell me so I can give my brothers and sisters the next part of the Lord's message because I believe it will come, uh-huh, I believe it will come, that's what I believe. I been in my ministry near forty years now and I still waiting, but my God is a faithful God and he will speak. Can I get an amen, brother?"
Such teaching would prepare Michael well for his role in the oval office.
Minerva and John were doting parents and loved their son very much, showing their affection for their third child by dressing him in a hat like the Coronel and in a little stars and stripes jump suit. Women passing in the street cooed at him in his pram and smiled down at the handsome baby that peered up at them from the blanket.
Michael's educational development was rapid. At six months his parents took their son to Washington D.C. It was at this point that Michael uttered his first words. Minerva tells how it happened:
"We were stood at the gates to the White House. I remember it was a beautiful day, the sun, of course, was shining and there were flags everywhere and we'd just eaten a good, nutritional McDonalds and the walls of the oval office were gleaming in the brightness. I remember little Michael's blue eyes opened wide as he saw the building and he pointed at it and said 'White House'. It was so cute."
Michael's voice was, however, a cause for concern. The high pitched squeak with which he spoke resulted in dogs running towards the pram in which he lay and was considered highly unmanly for a true American. Medical examinations failed to reveal the cause of the problem and doctors were unable to cite the root of Michael's condition. His parents, however, realised that this was a result of his delayed birth and John often chastised his wife for not pushing harder.
"I knew what the problem was," he says, "we all did. I'm sorry to say I blamed Minerva, it wasn't her fault of course, but dang nabbit, I was worried about my boy. How could I take him down the football field when he grew up with a voice like that? How would he ever be able to call for a hotdog at the big game?"
Despite these setbacks, Michael was a happy child and often played in the garden of his home beneath the candy floss clouds. One day, as he was running out for the ice cream van, he tripped and fell.
"Hot diggety, I felt for the kid," says Burt Bush, the friendly local ice cream man. "He fell so hard on those rough yellow bricks and blood trickled from his knee. He screwed up his little face so tight that I thought he were gonna burst into tears. But d'ya know what he did? D'ya know what he did? He sang the national anthem. [Burt, at this point, wipes a tear from his eye.] He sang it so well in that little high pitched voice of his. It was beautiful. I gave him an ice cream for free."
Michael's accident reassured John and Minerva of the manliness of their son, because real American men don't cry. Ever.
Michael spent much of his time watching television, especially Sesame Street, at which he would often giggle at the big yellow bird and recite the letters of the alphabet. He often questioned his mother why one of them lived in a trash can [i.e. a rubbish bin] and wondered why the authorities failed to eject such a hobo from the country. John and Minerva just smiled, proud at their son's Americaness. Sesame Street started him reading and he plunged into wonderful child literature such Puddle Lane, Where's Wally? and Bif, Chip and Kipper.
When Michael was four he was taken to his first ball game. John recounts the experience:
"It was a wonderful sunny day and we had hot dogs and those big foam hands with the finger pointing upwards and things were going great. The Candy Mountain Powerpuffs were three up and had scored a number of home runs when Michael decided he was going to cheer for his team. Well, that little squeaky voice there got all the men around looking at him and they turned real nasty. They'd had a few beers [John means Budweisers, an American imitation of beer] and they didn't like that a boy talked like a girl. Well, we had to get out of there real quick or little Mickey wouldn't have survived to see the White House next summer."
The family attended Candy Mountain Baptist Church every Sunday, where Pastor Jonny B. Goode preached the same sermon each week, in which he merely shouted "Chaaaaange" while jumping around the front. He explains his motives for such reptitive preaching:
"The Lord spoke to me when I started my ministry, I said he spoke to me and he said Jonny, Jonny he said, you gonna instill chaaaaaange in those good brothers and sisters of Candy Mountain. You gonna instill chaaaaaange there, he said. He didn't tell me what that chaaaaaange was and I still waiting on the Lord to tell me so I can give my brothers and sisters the next part of the Lord's message because I believe it will come, uh-huh, I believe it will come, that's what I believe. I been in my ministry near forty years now and I still waiting, but my God is a faithful God and he will speak. Can I get an amen, brother?"
Such teaching would prepare Michael well for his role in the oval office.
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Chapter 1 - The Birth of a President
Michael Jeremiah Hendrix was born to Minerva Delila Hendrix, née Washington, from Alhabama, and John Eric Hendrix XXIII, son of Priscilla Madonna Hendrix, née Lincoln, and John Eric Hendrix XXII. The couple had met some years earlier at a ho-down in Mississippi. John was sherrif of Candy Mountain in the state of Texas while Minerva spent her days sowing American flags in a local factory. Minerva later claimed that John's badge had gleamed brightly in the shack that day in 1978 when he asked her to dance and that from that very moment she knew she would become his wife.
John and Minerva stayed in touch by writing things called letters, which is what the world used before email and mobile telephones, and occassionally met up at weekends, when John would drive his Candy Mountain Police Department Chevy to Minerva's parents, where they would hold hands and walk in the garden. The relationship blossomed and, given that extreme right wing Christianity hadn't been invented in 1978, they kissed after only a few months of dating.
The following year John proposed to his sweetheart. Minerva explains what it was like:
"Oh, I remember it well, you know. It was evening July fourth 1979 and we'd gotten some potted meat and some brown bread, because we didn't have white bread in Texas back then, in fact we just called brown bread bread. We'd taken the auto out into the desert and had eaten the picnic and sat on a hill looking over the cactus and the grand canyon and Mount Rushmore and other very American things, and there were some Red Indians in a caravan in the distance beside the nuclear arms base and some prospecters in the river sifting for gold and as the fireworks went off John got down on one knee and offered me a diamond ring. Well, I hadn't never seen a diamond before and its rainbow colors shone so brightly that I just had to accept his offer. It was all very romantic."
John's memories of the event are not so clear:
"Yeah, well, her pa caught us kissing behind the apple tree one day and told me I had to marry her or there'd be trouble. So, me being outside my jurisdiction and all, thought I'd better do as he said. It just happened, like marriages did in those days, is all."
The marriage took place in Candy Mountain Lutheran Church and from that day Minerva left her job sowing American flags and stayed at home baking cookies and doing other very American activities.
Michael was the third son born to John and Minerva. His eldest brother, John Eric Hendrix XIV, was born on July 4 1982 and grew up to become a broker in New York, like the good American he was. The second son, Hank, was born on July 4 1984 and became a navy seal before training as an attorney and starting his own law firm in New York, like the good American he was.
Michael was the black sheep of the family. Minerva went into labour on July 4 1985, but Michael refused to be born until ten days later, on July 14. The family were disappointed and the shame of his non-American birth meant he was not allowed the honor of being given an American name like Hank and so was named Michael Jeremiah. The date of his birth meant that in his first days of life Michael underwent tests for non-American traits such as Communism and social justice, but showing no tendancy towards such horrors and choosing Monopoly from a choice of boardgames he was allowed to live.
A President had been born.
John and Minerva stayed in touch by writing things called letters, which is what the world used before email and mobile telephones, and occassionally met up at weekends, when John would drive his Candy Mountain Police Department Chevy to Minerva's parents, where they would hold hands and walk in the garden. The relationship blossomed and, given that extreme right wing Christianity hadn't been invented in 1978, they kissed after only a few months of dating.
The following year John proposed to his sweetheart. Minerva explains what it was like:
"Oh, I remember it well, you know. It was evening July fourth 1979 and we'd gotten some potted meat and some brown bread, because we didn't have white bread in Texas back then, in fact we just called brown bread bread. We'd taken the auto out into the desert and had eaten the picnic and sat on a hill looking over the cactus and the grand canyon and Mount Rushmore and other very American things, and there were some Red Indians in a caravan in the distance beside the nuclear arms base and some prospecters in the river sifting for gold and as the fireworks went off John got down on one knee and offered me a diamond ring. Well, I hadn't never seen a diamond before and its rainbow colors shone so brightly that I just had to accept his offer. It was all very romantic."
John's memories of the event are not so clear:
"Yeah, well, her pa caught us kissing behind the apple tree one day and told me I had to marry her or there'd be trouble. So, me being outside my jurisdiction and all, thought I'd better do as he said. It just happened, like marriages did in those days, is all."
The marriage took place in Candy Mountain Lutheran Church and from that day Minerva left her job sowing American flags and stayed at home baking cookies and doing other very American activities.
Michael was the third son born to John and Minerva. His eldest brother, John Eric Hendrix XIV, was born on July 4 1982 and grew up to become a broker in New York, like the good American he was. The second son, Hank, was born on July 4 1984 and became a navy seal before training as an attorney and starting his own law firm in New York, like the good American he was.
Michael was the black sheep of the family. Minerva went into labour on July 4 1985, but Michael refused to be born until ten days later, on July 14. The family were disappointed and the shame of his non-American birth meant he was not allowed the honor of being given an American name like Hank and so was named Michael Jeremiah. The date of his birth meant that in his first days of life Michael underwent tests for non-American traits such as Communism and social justice, but showing no tendancy towards such horrors and choosing Monopoly from a choice of boardgames he was allowed to live.
A President had been born.
Saturday, 19 April 2008
Introduction
Michael Jeremiah Hendrix has been one of the most influential Presidents of our generation. From making Texas the United States' capital to introducing American Studies as a compulsory subject in every school the world over, Hendrix was at the centre of the biggest and greatest changes this side of the Atlantic. His voice melted hearts everywhere, while his close relationship with Prime Minister Gratwick resulted in the conversion of Great Britain into the 51st state.
Nevertheless, Hendrix has been so much more than merely President of the world's greatest country. Baptist Minister, founder of Hendrix Corps, Chief Executive of Mama Hendrix's Cookie Company and, in his spare time, loving father and caring husband, Michael invented the cushioned toilet seat cover which never falls off when you sit on it and narrated 17 different audio Bibles in every language of the world, only failing his audition to read E, Bah Gum Lord, the Yorkshire dialect version.
Using this volume every American will be able to discover the highs and lows of this amazing man's life thus far. Before we begin, however, the author would like to thank "El Voz" himself for his aid in compiling this biography, taking time out from the busy circuit of conference speeches from which he now makes a living.
Nevertheless, Hendrix has been so much more than merely President of the world's greatest country. Baptist Minister, founder of Hendrix Corps, Chief Executive of Mama Hendrix's Cookie Company and, in his spare time, loving father and caring husband, Michael invented the cushioned toilet seat cover which never falls off when you sit on it and narrated 17 different audio Bibles in every language of the world, only failing his audition to read E, Bah Gum Lord, the Yorkshire dialect version.
Using this volume every American will be able to discover the highs and lows of this amazing man's life thus far. Before we begin, however, the author would like to thank "El Voz" himself for his aid in compiling this biography, taking time out from the busy circuit of conference speeches from which he now makes a living.
K. Yetton
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
