The Blackhawk Bugle

A Long, Long Time Ago, there was the Blackhawk Bugle, written by Scoop before he even thought of owning a computer. Things have been cleaned up a bit--but not much!--as far as style, but the stories remain true...


Ben Stumpjumper, Editor

Jack Midnight, Roving Reporter


OUR PRICE:   25 cents--darn  CHEAP!
HEADLESS COW HAUNTS SEASONAL  WOMEN!    --Labor Day, 1993         THE VIPER STRIKES! Fire Dept. Responds To "Hot Recipe"! 

 --Winter, 1996     

     Sisters and neighbors Arlene "Toots" Carberry and Shirley Gollwitzer were at first too terrified to talk about it. "But now we've got to warn the others!" Toots told the Bugle.

     "We were riding our golf carts back in the woods," said Toots, beginning her tale of terror, "and there it was, right in the middle of the road...a cow's head! It had eyeballs and everything, except some of the fur was peeling off. It shocked me so much that I almost ran over it! Fortunately, I swerved at the last second. But I was so close that Shirley's foot hit the head and sent it spinning off the trail. When we looked back, it was gone."

     Badly shaken by the experience, the women returned to their trailers. But, as Shirley put it: "We couldn't stop thinking about it. We had to go back."

     It was that curiosity that began the haunting. "The head was back!" explained Toots nervously. "Smack-dab in the middle of the road, in the very same spot!"

     "We didn't go near it this time," added Shirley. "We were afraid it might jump up and bite us, or something. After all, it looked like it had dragged itself back from where I had kicked it into the brush. Who knows what other abilities it might have?"

     Later that night Toots and Shirley gathered the courage to tell a few close friends about the event. "Two of the men went back with flashlights," said Toots, "but the head was gone!"

     But one week later, the head reappeared...

     "We were laughing about it on the golf cart," said Shirley. "You know, telling spooky jokes. Cow-jokes, as a matter of fact. And then, lurking around the corner of the trail, there it was...the head! This time the fur and skin were completely gone. The skull was white and bright in the sunlight. And it was looking right at us."

     "Well, we couldn't be sure about that part," said Toots, "because the eyeballs were gone also. But I did have the eerie feeling of being watched."

     Again the men investigated, and again there was no sign of the mysterious "head". A call was placed to the farmer who owns the adjoining land, and he stated that no cows were missing, or even headless. But he did want to know what the two women were drinking lately, as he "wanted some of that stuff".

     To date there have been no further sightings of the "head". "We think it's still out there," said Shirley. "We think it wants revenge for kicking it."

     (Note: While interviewing Toots, this reporter was given a cup of coffee. Cream was supplied from a little plastic replica of a cow. The head was missing.)

     There was a hot time at the Firehouse recently when Chicago Firefighter Jimmy Barnes tried cooking ribs at work. Serious damage was avoided when the Fire Department responded to the blaze--at its own Station!

     Jimmy, commonly known as the "Viper", was on duty at the Firehouse, and it was his turn to cook for the other Firefighters. They left Jimmy there alone while the rest of the Department went out on routine inspections in the neighborhood. "We should have known better," said an anonymous co-worker. "After all, he is the "Viper"..."

     Jimmy decided it was a great day for ribs on the grill, and began preparations in the alley behind the Station. The cook-out proceeded smoothly, until Jimmy went in search of a brush to baste the ribs.

     "We keep a couple of paintbrushes around for just that reason," explained Jimmy. "They work great!" However, the Viper failed to realize that the brush he selected had been recently used for actual painting, and was soaking in paint-thinner. "Sure, I noticed my secret rib sauce went on a little thin," admitted Jimmy, "and it smelled different, but I had to go to the bathroom, so I guess I was in a hurry."

     After basting the ribs, Jimmy went off in search of relief. Meanwhile, his secret sauce erupted and engulfed the entire grill in a tower of flames.

     "I heard the fire engines," said Jimmy, "and it made me wonder where the fire was. It sounded real close."

     Nonchalantly strolling back to the alley, Jimmy was shocked to find his co-workers there battling the blaze. "It did scorch the back of the building," said the Viper, "but there were no human injuries. However, the ribs were a total loss, and that grill will never be the same."

     The Bugle has learned that Jimmy has been told to only cook with a microwave from now on. "That's OK," said Jimmy. "I got some great plastic bowls I can use."

     (Editor's Note: After much investigative work, this paper has learned that the nickname "Viper" comes from the security system Jimmy uses on his car. "The problem is," explained a friend, "it confuses Jimmy. The remote for the alarm system is on his key chain, which he keeps in his pocket. He's always fiddling with loose change or something and setting off the alarm, or locking the car just as he's trying to open the door. The manufacturer recommended that Jimmy either remove the battery or else keep his hands out of his pockets.")

     A MESSAGE FROM THE EDITOR: Readers may recall that Jimmy Barnes is the same man who fell off a ladder while hanging a flag, and who nearly drowned in the Lake when attacked by what he claimed was a "sea creature".

     We just wanted to thank him.


"JayBird Josie" Strikes Again!

Oh No--Not Again!" Cries Husband

--Oct. 21, 1995

     Last season we reported how Josie W* pranced "naked as a jaybird" in her trailer on Mother's Day, only to be surprised by her unsuspecting sons, who merely wanted to wish her a "Happy Mother's Day". And now 'Jaybird Josie' has struck again!

The weather was cold and wet this particular Saturday. The campground had been closed for a week, although there was still water left on in one shower building for the die-hards. Long-suffering husband Tyler was only doing the right thing when he asked if he could turn the heat on in the Ladies' bathroom so that his shivering wife could take a hot shower. Little did he know that this kind act would trigger another of Josie's compulsive acts of nudity.

"I took a shower there also, but we used separate stalls," Tyler later said. "Honest, we did. I'm no savage. I was already done, and in my underwear, when this terrible thing happened!"

Two unsuspecting teenaged girls (who shall remain nameless), responding to the call of Nature, walked into the bathroom just then. "The Campground looked deserted," said one of the girls, still in a state of shock. "We didn't think there was anyone but us in there." It was at this exact moment that "Jaybird Josie" thrust her naked butt out from the shower curtain and "mooned" Tyler.

"It was terrifying!" said the other teen. "We walked in, already sort of scared because the place was so empty, and suddenly we hear this high-pitched cry. Then out jumps this naked butt! (Later described as 'moon-shaped with one eye'--Editor). We turned to get away, and then we see this man in his underwear sitting there, laughing at us. Believe me, we ran like hell!" (And they probably didn't need to use the bathroom anymore--Editor).

The Bugle fears that a new legend has been created: 'The Moon-Monster', something even more terrifying than the shower scene from 'Psycho'. "I'm afraid to go back in that bathroom," said one of the girls. "What if that 'butt-lady' and that 'underwear-man' are in there waiting..?"


*Josie's last name has been withheld out of respect for her other similarly-surnamed relatives--Editor.    



Secret Formula Found In Garden! "We'll Make Millions!" Claim Frank and Kitty.

An amazing secret recipe that seems to grow hair on anyone and maybe anything has been reported by Kitty Martorana of this campground. "It's a miracle!" Kitty claims, and she has proof to back it up. What started as a simple garden tip has perhaps become a scientific breakthrough.

"Back at home, there's a lot of rabbits in my yard," said Kitty. "So I used an old trick. I had Frank collect hair from the barber-shop floor and I use it around my plants. For some reason, human hair scares away rabbits, and they don't chew up my flowers. Of course, if Frank ("thinning" husband) had more hair, I could just shave his head every time I needed more for my garden. But for a while, though, he had to bribe barbers to let him sweep their floors. But now all that has changed!"

In some apparent quirk of science, the human hair in Kitty's garden at her trailer has sparked a molecular reaction. "It's in the air," says Kitty. "The hair and the dirt and flowers--they're emitting something that caused a change. And it's not just Frank…look at my statue!"

Frank Martorana was there on his deck, now sprouting a full head of hair. In Kitty's flower beds were two statues. One, of the Virgin Mary, was sacred, and was not affected. The other, a girl holding an urn, had undergone the transformation. A thick matt of hair covered her porcelain head. Even this inanimate had been altered by Kitty's scientific miracle. "People are starting to stop by," said an excited Kitty. "They just want to touch the dirt and breath in the air. Most of them are bald."

Kitty and Frank are presently negotiating with several barbers to fill what they expect will be a deluge of orders for their "Hair-Here" bags of dirt. "We'll sell the dirt in all sizes," says Kitty. "A one-ounce 'touch-up' bag, a full-pound bag for desperate bald men, and just now I got a call for a truck-load to the Hari-Krishnas. We'll make millions!"



When I first started The Bugle I needed help...obviously. In stepped Jack Midnight, who soon became a dear friend and ally...


A long, long time ago (OK, 20 years!) there was the 'Bugle', a homemade cut-and-paste newspaper that I  put together at my favorite campground. It told the misadventures of the campers, and was strictly a labor of love: It sold for 25 cents, but cost 35 cents to photocopy each issue. It was a fun thing, but summer is a busy time, and putting out the Bugle became a bit of a chore (This was way before I knew what a computer looked like--everything was typed on a regular typewriter 3x in various fonts to make things fit on the page, columns and pictures were held in place with Scotch-tape, etc.).  It was a nightmare sometimes. 

Then along came Jack...   

 Jack and Bobbie Lunaburg had a seasonal site on the campground, near the main road, and Jack would often comment on the latest Bugle. He kept telling me: "You know, Scoop, you can do this stuff a lot easier on a computer." And I kept telling him I didn't have a computer.

But Jack did. And so it wasn't long before Jack became an official member of the Bugle (Hey, I'm no dummy!). But we needed a name for Jack--a nom de plume. We tossed about a few names, but nothing stuck. Then, late one night, as I drove up the road, I stopped suddenly. The moon was out, Jack's trailer windows were dark, but there in his tiny metal shed a light was on. I hopped the fence to investigate, and what I saw was Jack Lunaburg, around about midnight, working on the Bugle in his shed, a bare lightbulb overhead.

Jack was a handsome, robust man--he would have made an elegant Zorro or swashbuckling pirate--and there he was scrunched up in that small shed, typing away. "I didn't want to disturb Bobbie," he explained, "so I moved the computer out here. But I think I'll invest in a better light, and maybe a better extension cord."

 The Bugle remained a labor of love (meaning it still lost money!), but Jack Midnight put some needed style into it, and certainly smoothed a lot of rough edges. Besides making things look right, he was always coming up with an angle for a story...a true Bugle NewsHound.

Jack and Bobbie moved to Florida, but he and I kept in touch with e-mails, usually involving favorite authors we had discovered. And Jack would occasionally send more material--he was now the "Foreign Roving Editor".  When this website was being put together, I mentioned that I had to re-type the Bugle banner on the computer for that specific page, and I couldn't figure out how to fit his name in (didn't have a scanner yet, words kept squeezing out of place, etc.) But I promised him I would. I figured I had a lot of time to get around to it...

Yesterday, Bobbie Lunaburg replied to a recent e-mail of mine. She said she found it on Jack's computer, and wanted me to know that Jack passed away on March 3rd of a heart attack.

I am stunned. I keep thinking about Jack, that big smile and his flair. And so I recall that you could find Jack on his deck around about dinnertime, usually after a round of golf, a deliciously prepared cocktail in hand, and he would say, "Come on up, join me..."

Someday I will again, but for now, I will prepare a delicious cocktail and toast you at my desk, Jack Midnight. Maybe twice.

 Thanks for your friendship and your help.






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