Gilbert du Motier, Marquis of Lafayette, known in the United States simply as Lafayette, was a French aristocrat and military officer who left his country to fight in the American Revolutionary War, commanding American troops in several battles, including the Siege of Yorktown. He was convinced the American cause was noble and he wanted to play a part in rescuing the infant nation and helping it to persevere.
Gilbert Key Shelton is an internationally recognized American cartoonist, creator of Wonder Wart-Hog, Fat Freddy’s Cat and The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, who emigrated to France years ago, appreciating the high esteem in which the French people hold practitioners of his art. Seeing his native land suffering the outrages of the Trump regime, Shelton, like Lafayette, wants to exert his influence to aid the homeland.
“In the best interests of the United States,” proclaims Shelton, “I think it critical the voters elect Bill Killeen the next President. This would be good for you, for me, for all of us. It would be good for the planet. It would be good for Franco-American relations and Franco-American Spaghetti. Oh, and if there is an opening at the position of cartoonist-laureate, I would be glad to serve.”
This is not merely a typical endorsement from a person with little true knowledge of the candidate he is supporting; Shelton and Killeen have history together. Around 1960-61, Gilbert was working for a Hot Rod magazine in New York City. He came to visit Bill in Lawrence, Mass. one Thanksgiving and brought with him the first panel of a new cartoon strip, looking for a direction to take it. Killeen wrote the first story, Shelton illustrated it and Wonder Wart-Hog was born. Bill later wrote three more episodes while in Austin in 1962, working for the University of Texas humor magazine, Texas Ranger, while Gilbert was editor. Over time, Shelton wrote and/or illustrated several more Wart-Hog stories and eventually produced a comic book starring the Hog of Steel.
Killeen was on his way to Albuquerque in the Summer of 1962 when his funky Cadillac hearse broke down in Oklahoma City, necessitating a change of plans. Shelton had earlier invited him to come to Austin, offering free quarters in his East Ninth Street apartment while they collaborated on the Ranger, and Austin was 600 miles closer than Albuquerque. Killeen eventually limped in just as his vehicle collapsed in its last paroxysms of misery. He lived in Shelton’s apartment for three months, observing bouts of peyote experimentation, participating in massive water-balloon wars, listening to Shelton plunk his banjo and Janis Joplin strum her autoharp. It was a rare time, a memorable era, during which one man grows to know another, to observe his character, inspect his grit, appreciate his stamina. “Bill Killeen survived Austin, 1962,” says Shelton, “so he can probably do anything.”
 |
| Gilbert Shelton at his shop in Paris. |
The Latest Polls
Biden………38.3
Sanders…..18.8
Warren……..8.8
Harris………..7.3
Buttigieg……7.0
O’Rourke…..3.5
Killeen………3.4
Booker………2.5
Candidates Castro, Klobuchar, Gabbard, Yang, Gillibrand and Ryan are all 1.5 or below. The others are in the dumpster. It’s important to note that virtually all the other campaigns began months earlier than Bill’s, with the exception of Biden’s. Joe has the advantage of being a slightly better known public figure than Bill, which gives him a temporary boost in the polling. But being very old, he is also vulnerable to episodes of forgetfulness and bouts of neuritis and neuralgia, which could sideline the ex-Veep at any moment. This also goes for Bernie in spades. We are not going to say anything mean about Elizabeth Warren because she is a Massachusetts girl and she will beat you up.
 |
| Harry and Diane at Austin headquarters. |
 |
 |
| Chris Thibaut stalks the Gulf Coast. |
Killeen supporters across the country are knocking on doors and piling up promised votes. Sometimes this requires a little encouragement. In overtowed Austin, Texas, where there is one legitimate parking space for every 90 drivers, Killeen devotees Harry & Diane Edwards are surreptitiously removing police boots from immobilized vehicles in exchange for signed contracts agreeing to support of their candidate.
“It’s not really that hard,” alleges Harry. “Although the locks can only be disrupted by major explosives, the rest of the boot is vulnerable. If the installation is even a little bit sloppy, it’s often possible to remove the boot by letting the air out of the tire and simply sliding the whole thing off. This is my favorite method, and it’s quicker than the alternatives. While I deal with the boot, Diane is my lookout. If a cop passes by and looks like he may stop, Diane rushes up and asks for directions. Cops are suckers for damsels in distress. The boots are usually on the sidewalk side of the car so nobody can see me while driving by.”
In Bradenton, Florida, ace photographer Chris Thibaut lurks outside Asian massage parlors, snapping shots of departing customers, then whipping out a contract promising votes for Killeen. A signed document and Chris agrees to discard the evidence (but he secretly stashes it for election day to discourage backsliders).
In vast sections of the Southeast, Sherry Snyder travels to hundreds of nursing homes and assisted living centers, offering to flash elderly male patients for votes. Sherry adheres to a regular schedule and is often greeted at the entrances by swarms of her fans, jumping up and down and waving signed contracts.
Marty Jourard, saxophone in hand, will play the voter’s song of choice at Pike Place Market in Seattle. Chuck LeMasters will offer to trade you exemplary marijuana seeds at his table in front of the Publix market in Jonesboro, Florida. Carolyn Holmes will swoop up voters for a brisk ride on her catamaran on the Sunshine State’s Gulf Coast. Lynn Maxwell will take you hiking in the wilds of North Carolina. And just in case contractees have any second thoughts, Randall Roffe and his colorful gang of mercenaries will gather up defaulters and toss them in a steamer headed for Ukraine. After all, a promise made is a promise kept. Or else.
 |
| Lynn Maxwell proselytizing in Carolina. |
 |
| Carolyn Holmes rustles up votes in Florida. |
Nice Guys Finish First, Despite Leo Durocher
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Bill Killeen was racing a stable of thoroughbred horses at Calder Race course in Miami and jockey Steve Gaffalione was riding many of them. Steve was an upbeat kid, dependable and polite, who followed instructions to the letter and brought home a high percentage of winners. Like most young race riders, he enjoyed the high life and money burnt a hole in his pocket. His father Bob, also a jockey, warned Steve of the precocious nature of his trade but youth will laugh and have its day. When Steve’s career ended, he had about as much money put away as he did when he started it, but he wouldn’t trade his racing days for all the tea in Sri Lanka.
Many years later, Bill was walking to his car from a Winn-Dixie store in Ocala when Steve came running up. He was training a couple of horses at the nearby Cardinal Hill complex and wondered if his old patron had any young babies to break and get ready for the track. Turns out Bill did. He sent three horses to Steve, one of which was a flighty Halo’s Image filly named Silver Stage. Three days after her arrival, Steve called Bill with concerns.
“I like to turn the new horses out in small paddocks after they train since they’re not used to being in stalls all the time,” he explained, “but we can’t catch this one in the morning. And if we do leave her in the stall, she’s a nervous wreck, pacing all the time. What do you want to do?” Steve was probably hoping we’d opt for a tranquilizing drug but instead we sent a mini-mule named Mary Margaret to be the filly’s companion. It worked like a charm. When she got to Miami, Silver Stage won first time out and then ran third in the prestigious Tropical Park Oaks. We sold her to California trainer Vladimir Cerin for $450,000, the largest check I received over forty years in the thoroughbred business. We spread the money around a bit and a portion of it came back to Steve. Mary Margaret got paid off in carrots, which caused the little queen to raise an eyebrow. “I was hoping for a cottage in Tangier,” she sniffed.
Over the years Steve Gaffalione trained with us, his entire family was on scene in the morning….wife Shannon (and eventually a new baby), daughter Cheyenne and son Tyler. The latter was a pistol, small but athletic and the spitting image of his father. He was invariably polite and well-mannered, eager to please, always looking for some way to help. Tyler did well in school but had no aspirations toward higher education. Tossing the football around after training hours, I tried to steer him toward a consideration of college but it didn’t take. There was only one thing Tyler wanted to do with his life and that was to ride horses, continue in the family business initiated by his grandfather and continued by his dad. As far as Tyler was concerned, Steve hung the moon.
When Steve eventually moved south to train exclusively for a wealthy owner, he’d call occasionally with news of Tyler’s progress. Despite his mere 145 pounds, he played receiver and defensive back in high school, a tribute to his athleticism. If 145 pounds seems light, consider that the lad would have to lose about 30 of them when it was time to get back to racing.
When his track career started, it was with a profound bang! Tyler won the Eclipse Award as the 2015 U.S. Champion Apprentice Jockey, winning over 200 races every year in his first three full seasons. He earned a mount in the 2019 Kentucky Derby on Ocala trainer Mark Casse’s horse, Will To Win, but got tangled up with the leader, Maximum Security, in the stretch and finished sixth. In the Preakness Stakes, however, Tyler and Will To Win left no doubt who was best, surging through a hole on the rail to win the race by a length and a quarter. So much for higher education. If the kid keeps going at this rate, he’ll soon be able to buy a college of his own. Through it all, Tyler Gaffalione has remained the same charming young fellow he has always been, diligent, hard-working, respectful to all. The crusty old baseball manager Leo Durocher once pontificated that “Nice guys finish last!” Not always, my friend, not always.
Special Whiz-Bang Once In A Lifetime Offer:
The illustration at the head of this column is a Gilbert Shelton original, generously offered to the Killeen For President campaign gratis by the artist. We will print a small number of t-shirts, black on gray, with Shelton’s artwork on the front and the inscription, All The Way With WTK on the back.
Our coffers being low after giving away and shipping 50 previous campaign shirts, we will be charging $17 (approximately the cost of the shirts plus mailing) for the finished product. This is a one-time offer, the first batch of shirts we print will be the last. Since we want to give everyone plenty of time to get their checks in, we won’t print the shirts until late June. Our address is: Bill Killeen, P.O. Box 970, Fairfield, Florida 32634.
There are still a few of the free Killeen For President shirts available for procrastinators. Just send us an email request, including your size, to the address below. Recipients are required by law to send us photographic proof of their campaigning.
That’s all, folks….
bill.killeen094@gmail.com
Correspondence to this email may be delayed due to Google tomfoolery. If at first you don't succeed try, try again.
