Learning Day: Jim Limber Davis, A Black Orphan in the Confederate White House (Patreon)

Today’s column is just for kids! Find one.

Hey there! I’m Mr. Dayle, and I’m a teacher. Sometimes the NYPD plays rough with my students, but that probably won’t happen today. Who do the police in your town beat up?

Wow! That’s amazing! And today’s book is even more amazing. Ready?

Just kidding! I tell little fibs sometimes. It’s a “personality disorder.” Just like that aunt you don’t see much! What’s your favorite personality disorder? No need to write it down. Save those pencils for fun facts!

Ready for our real book? Here it is!

Oh, shucks. Now my computer’s playing tricks on me. That happens when you lie. Don’t lie, unless you want to be a president or governor or senator or mayor or comptroller or dean or lawyer or CEO or priest or guru or reporter or pundit or husband or teacher or children’s author.

Let’s try again. You should never give up! Here’s our book:

Funk me! I guess we’re doing this. Giving up was the right answer, and now it’s too late. A bit like the Confederacy! We’re learning already.

This book was written by Rickey Pittman, a very special author. Rickey’s a reactionary! Do you know what that means? Let’s practice.

Good job! Rickey’s just like them, because he never got over 1865. In his heart, Rickey knows the South won. That bullets, food riots, and human dignity could never beat a rebel yell. Reactionaries are why you can’t eat glue, even on your birthday. Put it down!

Most books are pretty nasty to the Confederacy. Readers too. So Rickey wrote his own, just for you! And then another. And another! Rickey can’t stop. This is his dream. Rickey has fifteen books, and some of the words are true!

This one’s about a slave.

Sorry, a great pet. Jefferson Davis’s great pet! According to Rickey, Jim was the happiest property in the world.

But not quite a happy person. Who stole a black orphan’s joy, and why was it Lincoln? Today we get to learn! From Rickey Pittman, a source all Rickey Pittmans trust. Instead of facts or black neighbors, Rickey has a cowboy hat. Bang!

Then there’s the artist, Judith Hierstein. Judith sucks! Does anyone you know suck? Not as much as Judith! Once, she tried drawing a whipping:

But not just any whipping: our hero’s! Jim’s story begins with a savage. That’s savior for bully.

Isn’t that sad? Jim was the first boy whipped in Virginia, and the only innocent. Lucky for Jim, there are humans nearby! With faces, sort of.

Oh no: Varina’s hauling her own groceries! And steering her own cart! Where are her friends? Maybe she can find help. I know this is scary, but history should be honest. Otherwise, we’ll fall for anything.

Who? The kid? Jim’s fine. In Dixie, they called flogging black children “Monday.” What’s your favorite day? It should be Monday, because Varina Davis redeemed it:

Wow! That bully’s definitely dead!

Monday was for gentlemen. Varina saved public property! First ladies used to help people, instead of being black, sad, or whatever Jill is. Let’s clap for Varina. She even kept the whip, in case Jim got homesick.

Maid! She’s a maid.

You’re smart kids, so I bet you’ve noticed: Rickey sucks too! Much more than Judith. He writes the way broccoli tastes. And with teamwork, Rickey and Judith suck four times as much. That’s exponential failure!

Back in The Confederate Alphabet, Rickey tried to rhyme. It didn’t work, but that was better. Now it’s just Rickey’s thoughts, and he doesn’t have many. If a real greycoat saw this, he’d say “Ow, Sherman is burning me! It sure stings.”

Time for training! Varina plays a game with the children. They had to know lots of animals, so that they could tell the maids what to hunt. Including bad maids.

MOTHERFUNKER. How great! Jim’s posed like a duck! Try it. That’s classic treetop duck, peeling bananas and mangos. To see more ducks, watch Tarzan. They’re great pets, if you let them borrow your face.

Varina bonds with her new pet, and keeps her haunted face. Inside! Outside, you’re a field maid. Inside, you’re sixty percent family. Rickey wants you to know the difference. Otherwise, you might meet a scary monster. You’re brave kids, so I think you’re ready.

Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Rickey’s stories turn gentleman guilt into gentleman smiles. Gentleman power, even.

Now that Jim’s a trained house friend, he’s ready to meet the messiah. A messiah’s a teacher for your soul. You know, that thing that hurts near bad books. We avoid those here, but be careful. You only have one!

Meet Jeff.

Hi Jeff! Look how happy Jim is to meet a real president. Bullies call happy people “House Darklings.” They like stealing joy. If you meet a bully, don’t start a fight. Tell them Dixie Rises, walk away, and then check on Star Wars. They’re stealing that too!

Then Jim eats at the Davis table. Indoors! They throw him bones and fatty meat, but no chocolate. Chocolate’s bad for family friends! Just like voting.

What a pal! Joe dies two pages later.

Don’t laugh.

It’s not funny.

Come on.

Mocking grief is wrong. And you’ll need that energy later: Jim’s joy turns to ash. Has anything in your life turned to ash? Tell your study buddy. Gentlemen listen (to each other, not first ladies or maids). Nurse that pain until the uprising.

First, bullies reach the Holy Land.

Not Piecake! Sounds like Jim didn’t pray hard enough. Make sure to really clasp those hands together, kids. Otherwise God sleeps through it like a plague.

What? Good question: why was Jeff playing with his guns? Shouldn’t he be helping? Figureheads could still point or pray. Everyone matters. Jeff looks worthless in crisis, but he must have had a role. Otherwise, Rickey’s wasted his life.

Jeff returns for his family, and even Jim! He has a plan to get to Texas, using all the wit and will that made him great.

It doesn’t work out.

The Union’s here! Some of you read alone, which I’ll let slide today. Union soldiers are just like orcs. They enslave others, fight to keep doing it, and serve an ageless demon with magic rings. Nothing is worse than an orc. Except those bigger orcs Saruman had. Or trolls. The Easterlings seemed pretty mean, and the Nazgul were zombie wizard kings. Let’s just say Union Captains were like Nazgul.

Varina’s brave! The world wants her humanity, and she stands tall. And it works! Captain Hudson changes his mind. He learns that everyone’s different, and some people need maids. He even learns a duck impression!

Oops! Sorry, that was a guess. Mr. Dayle is cutting, and your brain uses sugar to…brain. All of you look like food right now. Eat your bread, or you’ll write like Rickey. Or seek pain like Mr. Dayle. Or be nominated for the Union White House.

Back to Jim’s story.

Captain Hudson’s the worst! He treats the Davises like mascots of a traitor movement to preserve human bondage. That means “nerds.” His men steal everything Jeff loves. And then they take Jim!

The First Family fights for Jim. Not hard, or for long. But they make nice promises. Meanwhile, Jim goes on tour.

I know, homework stinks. But you should still start early, or, it’ll look like this page. Defending the president’s a big job! Especially drawing his non-slave’s back scars. Messing up might embarass you later. Lucky for Rickey and Judith, they only published this worldwide.

Still, we can learn from this. You’re ready for symbols. Jim’s shirt means loyalty to the gentleman race. How could he take it off? Jim’s scars mean tattling. Who does that? Together, they make one art. Even if Judith didn’t try. This is Mary holding Jesus, for a better cause.

Education.

It speaks for itself.

Now you know history’s secret: the Union forced black labor. Unpaid PR was Lincoln’s cornerstone. Can you imagine? Afterwards, gentlemen tried to help. They made separate but better playgrounds, new slave patrol uniforms, and Rock & Roll. But countless Jims never made it home, leaving a cultural scar. Now politics are weird and sad.

We’ve bullied gentlemen from the start, when some maids chose swimming over work. Talk about dramatic! Imagine if they’d picked friendship, like Jim Limber Davis. Or at least tried yellow suspenders. We’d have a nicer world. One where Jeff kept his smile.

Happy Fourth of July!

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