Excerpt from Satirical History of NEW MEXICO
NEW “ALL-TOO-TRUE-BLUE” (ALTERNATIVE) STATE HISTORIES
1821 — Mexico Takes New Mexico from Old Spain
After the Indians took New Mexico from the coyotes and other critters, and Spain took it from the Indians, Mexico took it from Spain. The coyotes never noticed much difference, though. As they go on with their doggy life, they simply laugh when they see these humans, who think they own the land:
1848 — The “Hot Potato” Continues
In 1814, Guadalupe Hidalgo purchased New Mexico from Mexico, with money he had earned while selling salty snacks in the stands during performances of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show (on his tax returns, he self-identified as a “crackerjack monger”).
In 1848, after Lawrence of Arabia offered him a better job in Afghanistan, “Guado” gave New Mexico to the Ewe-Knighted States “for a consideration.”
So it was that New Mexico became a Territory of these hyar Ewe-Knighted States.
This is a woodcut of Guadalupe and his entourage as they made the deal with frontiersman extraordinaire Jeremiah “Bullfrog” Johnson:
1864 – Long Walk of the Navajo
Our old friend, the bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy Kittimus “Kit” Carson escorted his bosom friends the Navajo to Bosque Redondo (“Round Forest”) in New Mexico in 1864. He served as trail master, guide, porter, sommelier, and camp cook on this pleasure excursion.
Showing how much they enjoyed it all, the Navajo continued with him for the entire 350 miles, from their home in Arizona. Even when blizzards and buzzards abounded, they would not even consider turning back or aside.
Here they are on their hike, looking for tequila ingredients, of which they could find none:
1912 — Four Corners
When Arizona became a State on February 14th, 1912, the Four Corners area was definitively defined. This is the only place in the entire universe (and beyond) where four states meet.
For those who had become proficient at Twister, such as Chubby Checker, they could now try their hands (and feet) at being in four States at the same time.
1916 — Pancho Villa Looks For Columbus
Thinking he was in Ohio (whereto his partner Lefty eventually split), Pancho Villa came to Columbus (New Mexico, natch) in 1916.
Failing to find the Italian explorer for whom the city had been named, Villa became very angry and, in a rage, stomped his feet.
The mayor of Columbus was so mad at Pancho for this public display of temper that he initiated a propaganda campaign against Villa, even going so far as to claim that Mr. Villa had visited violence upon citizens of his community.
Here is an example of some of this “character assassination” that the mayor stooped to:
All Mr. Villa really wanted to do was to ask old Chris what his favorite pizza was. He figured that, as an Italian, his opinion would have merit.
1916 — Capulin Volcano
In 1916, northeastern New Mexico’s Capulin Volcano was made a national monument. From the summit of the now-(supposedly) extinct volcano, you can see five States: Florida, Alaska, Hawaii, California, and Maine. You can’t see New Mexico from there, though – the cone is in the way.
From this photograph, which was captured from a submarine off the coast of Switzerland, you can see Florida and Alaska only (the other states are out of the frame):
1943 — Los Alamos Natural Lavatories Opens
Two years before World War 2 ended, and two years after the Ewe-Knighted States got involved in it, Los Alamos Natural Lavatories opened in the poplar town of Los Alamos. The largest number of outhouses and port-a-potties ever brought together in one place were assembled here. Some people will do anything to get into the Guinness book of world records. Or maybe it was just a way of distracting themselves from the war.
Once all the outhouses and port-a-potties were full, the contents were shipped out. They had a big party after shipping out the 1,000th container of waste. Here’s a manager asking an assistant to turn down the fan:
1945 — Atomic Bomb Explodes in Los Alamos
On July 16th, 1945, when all the outhouses and port-a-potties were full and in need of being pumped, some practical joker lit a match and a huge explosion tore the roof off the sky. The massive blast was the equivalent of between 15,000 and 20,000 tons of TNT (Terribly Needy Tyrants). A crater over 1,000 feet in diameter was left behind in the wake of the loud and otherwise noticeable fulmination.
Conspiracy theorists say that it was more than just an ordinary outhouse/port-a-pottie program being carried out in Los Alamos. “They” say that this was part of the Manhattan Transfer Project. At any rate, as a result of all this “messing around,” energy was transferred from here to there as mass was converted into energy and, by the law of reciprocity, energy was also likewise converted into mass.
This is what happens when you wait too long to pump out the outhouses/port-a-potties:
1947 — The Roswell Incident
In John Denver’s birthplace of Roswell, in 1947 (four years after the opera singer’s birth), “The Roswell Incident” took place. This is when the American League won the All-Star game. Most people thought this was a conspiracy, a setup, as the National League always won before (and after) that.
It was such a big deal that the local newspaper even reported on it the next day. Don’t believe me? The proof’s in the pudding. Especially if it’s rum-raisin bread pudding. And here’s the proof:
1949 — Sandia National Laboratories Founded Near Albuquerque
Watermelons are loved by New Mexicans, because most of them are from the south, where watermelons have been a fad for centuries.
That being the case, the State government opened Sandia National Laboratories near Albuquerque in 1949, with the express goal of researching better ways to grow bigger and better watermelons.
1952 — “High Noon”
High Noon, a classic movie with a New Mexico town as its locale, was released in 1952. At 12:00 precisely (that’s 1200 for military types), Gary Barrelmaker rides through Hadleyville on his pony. A man disses him, so he comes back later to get even with everybody.
The people in Hadleyville claim to be good and righteous, the best people around; the best people anywhere, in fact! Barrelmaker lays a trap to show that they are all greedy.
Spoiler alert! In the end he shoots them all with a popgun while grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
Here’s an impressionistic painting by Grandma Moses of the look on Gary Barrelmaker’s face when he is dissed by a local Hadleyburgian:
1952 — “The Atomic City”
1952 was a stellar year for movies set in New Mexico. In addition to High Noon, a thriller called The Atomic City was released.
The story takes place at Los Alamos, where a nuclear physicist (Rupert Pupkin) lives and works. Terrorists kidnap his donkey and threaten that they will rename the donkey Dapple (the donkey’s real name is Hodie) if Pupkin doesn’t give them the plans for the outhouses he’s been working on.
They know that this will hurt Pupkin even more than missing out on the fun and games of an atomic war, as depicted here:
1962 — “Fire on the Mountain”
Edward Abbey wrote a novel in 1962 called Fire on the Mountain, about a New Mexico rancher whose land is lusted after by the government. Because they want to use it for a bombing range, they condemn his ranch.
Believing that the government is always right and just, the obsequious rancher acquiesces and moves to the Bronx, which he likes better anyway.
1970 — “Chisum”
John Wayne starred in a movie set in New Mexico in 1970. It was about Shirley Chisholm (he played her beleaguered campaign manager), but those Hollywood lamebrains spelled her name wrong.
Shirley Chisholm could outshoot, outshout, outride, out-wrestle, and out-and-out out-anything anybody else could ever do (anything you could do, she could do better).
Chisholm wrote the “Shirley Letters” from the mines of California, where she lived in 1851 and 1852. If people said to her, “Shirley, you jest” she would respond, “Not really, but keep calling me Shirley.”
Unlike the doofuses in Hollywood, Shirley knew how to spell her surname, as you can see on the Hallmark greeting card she had made up for her family:
1970 to 1977 — McClod
In 1970, Chester Weaver was hoodwinked and bamboozled into leaving New Mexico for New York City. A venture was made of this adventure, as surreptitious filming of what transpired ended up as a documentary showcasing all of the madcap cutups that ensued.
To protect his reputation (and for safety’s sake), Weaver was referred to as “Sam McClod” during the filming of the tell-all, show-all, know-it-all documentary series.
A drone that was used as backup in case the movie cameras were spotted by anybody being filmed got this fuzzy shot of the documentary in progress in downtown Manhattan:
1988 — Milagro Beanfield War
In Truchas, in 1988, some miraculous beans were planted. They grew. All the way up to heaven, as it were. So tall did they grow, in fact, that a boy named Jack took to scaling them, on a dare from his parents.
When the friendly neighborhood crows came around to cut down the beanstalks and thus protect the young daredevil, Jack’s parents made an issue of it and hired some scarecrows to intimidate the crows into leaving the beanstalks alone. They wanted Jack to learn on his own. And they really hoped that the neighbor girl (Jill, who was an insufferable brat) would follow Jack up the stalks, lose her footing, fall off, and land on her crown.
You can tell what a precarious undertaking all this was based on the mirror-image telemetry of the event:
1994 — “The Crossing”
Cormac McCarthy, in case you don’t know, is a Hungarian comic book artist, the son of a simple washerwoman and the National Inspector of Goulash. Mr. McCarthy claims to create “graphic novels,” but we know what that really means (comic books).
From time to time, when Cormac gets tired of colors, he dabbles in scribbling out the occasional novel. He did this in 1994, foisting one upon a jaded public. McCarthy rather sillily entitled this work of his, which is set in both the olde and the new Mexicos, The Crossing.
In this fantastic story, Billy the Kid, Boyd Dowler, and Matt Damon aimlessly drift between the two Mexicos, thefting all the pretty horses, and wondering if anything will ever happen to them. It doesn’t.
Well, one thing happens: while they’re on the road, every time they cross the border, their lingo swaps around. That is to say, when they cross into olde Mexico, they immediately begin speaking English (with a British accent, even). When they cross back over into New Mexico, they commence to babbling in Spanish. In this way, nobody can understand them in either case or place. The dramatic result of this is that it makes them seem more pathetic, complicated and, thus, interesting.
It’s just a cheap trick, though – all is as it seems.
Here’s Billy the Kid, the star of the movie they made based on the book, in a casual moment in his everyday attire:
What a nerd
. . .
Each Saturday and Tuesday an excerpt of one State’s (satirized) history will be posted here, in alphabetical order (from Alabama to Wyoming).
For “the rest of the story,” the (32-page) complete book “The New All-too-True-Blue History of New Mexico” is available here.
The regions of the U.S. have been combined into volumes, too; New Mexico is included in the volume The New All-too-True-Blue History of the American Southwest,
which includes Arizona, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas
You can listen to this excerpt here.
Blackbird Crow Raven is also the author of the book “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle”