Author Archive for M. Toole
ALIEN VISIT TO OLATHE COVERED UP IN CORN
(Olathe) If indications are correct aliens stopped over in Olathe back in 1947, on their way from a previous New Mexico landing site to the First ever Heeny Tick Festival. If one talks to a cross-section of residents here he will be privy to an assortment of wild tales, reenactments and yes, denials.
One overall disadvantaged man told The Horseshoe that he spent a few days with the aliens and even taught them how to plant corn and survive the winter. Then, toward the end of November the aliens had him over for a turkey dinner. Another alleged witness to the visit says the aliens showed up at her wedding, brought her and husband Red a mighty fine toaster and then hit the trail.
“Delusions of this type are quite common within groups who once experienced relative peace and then, as if overnight, were wrestled to the ground by society, the system, television, general stress…whatever one wants to call it. In short, according to social scientists, the big bad beautiful world of high technology including visitors from another world) will not leave a stone unburned in its quest for control.” 1.
Although newspaper articles are sketchy, one piece, recorded in August of 1947, talks about “out-of-towners” and their obsession with Tin Woodsman looking scarecrows that were often used in the fields to save straw. The reported was shocked to catch the visitors hauling one of the tin scarecrows onto a small, circular craft that “didn’t look anything like a Chevy pickup”. The corn field crew then told him they were just souvenir hunters and then offered to compensate the scarecrow’s owner.
“I would have taken pictures and all but I was late to cover that week’s city council meeting where the proposed paving of Main Street was to be discussed,” said Melvin Toole, 78, of California Mesa. “That would be front page stuff.”
Scientists at NASA, speaking with the understanding that no one would take them seriously anyway, say they think the visitors were simply trying to retrieve one of their own. They quickly added that the “aliens” were probably a Mesa College fraternity from Grand Junction or possibly a 4-H group from over in the Beehive State.
According to an official release from the space agency, UFO watchers suffer from the Goldilocks Syndrome which, like the Peter Pan Parallel, has never been clearly defined by those who managed to coin the phrases.
“We have observed this kind of creeping neurosis in small towns before,” said Dr. Simon Lackluster, a psychologist/irrigation enthusiast from Pueblo Golf and Water World. “The treatment, although incredibly painful, can be effective. I myself rather enjoy it.”
Lackluster, who appeared at the closing ceremonies of last year’s Olathe Sweet Corn Festival in a red chiffon evening gown and matching shoulder holster, told reporters that he’s “seen it all” and that “his patients have had a far stronger affect on him than he has had on them.”
Many experts in the field of mass hysteria are convinced that it is too much idle time that causes this contagious condition. They feel that everyone should work two or three jobs to keep their minds off what is really going down on the planet. 2.
What may have caused these alleged visits is still unknown 50 years later. The aliens seemed to have been polite, clean and respectful to the elderly and didn’t leave anything behind to chronicle their stop.
“How can there be any question as to the validity to alien stopovers. Just look on the streets of our shabby little mountain towns in the summer,” said one resident. “Are you telling me these pigeons are from the same planet that I’m from? C’mon.”
One visit that can be confirmed was that of the late Soviet Premier Nikita Krushchev to the first Olathe Sweet Corn Festival, hosted in the 1950s by the Colorow Sugar Beet Consortium. This group, in an attempt to get the smell of sugar beets out of their nasal passages turned to sweet corn for relief. In accordance with the silliness they invited Krushchev to attend.
Nikita, as many of us still remember wanted to visit Disneyland in the worse way. His trek to Olathe may have been related to attempts to placate Washington. Unfortunately, it failed and World War III, as we all know, was the frightening result.
Anyway, Krushchev showed up one sunny morning, checked into the Potato Palace and emerged in a pair of baggy bermudas, white knee socks and wing-tips.
“He looked like a real turkey,” said Toole. “I couldn’t let him walk around like that so, telling him the festival was a formal affair, I gave him one of my newspaperman suits to wear. He never returned it.”
It was during that time that the Cold War was hot. Korea was raging, China and Russia were in bed down the hall, the New York Yankees were in their prime and Joseph McCarthy, a champion of the mindless right, was pointing the finger at political enemies like a proctologist on his fifteenth cup of coffee. One can only imagine McCarthy’s reaction to a communist in the wood pile at Olathe.
Calling farmers, Olathe, and sweet corn “soft on Communism” McCarthy effectively black listed the festival until his descent and subsequent death..
“Our corn ain’t soft on anything,” stressed Toole. “It’s tender.”
Despite the efforts of McCarthy and his storm troopers to sabotage the crop that year, the festival went off like a firecracker. Krushchev and his entourage had a great time and even brought home sweet corn seed which was later planted by slave labor in Siberia. Before his departure for the United Nations the Russian was give the keys to the city and in return he kissed some babies and waved from atop a 1936 Henway Concubine, a gift from the local Rotarians.
1. Atlas Shrugged by Ann Rand-McNally. Page 67.
2. The Idle Environment, by Melvin Toolini. Page 299
If anyone out there in robotland we wake onto, knows the whereabouts of Ambrose Bierce
please call Donald J Powers Jr., formerly of Silverton, Colorado.
THE MOONSHINER’S SONG
In 1925 Ouray was still unmistakably a mining town. There had been ups and downs but the mines were still employing hundreds and yielding almost immoral tons of precious ore. There were plenty of churches and plenty of brothels. The Utes had long gone, replaced by new immigrants from Italy, Ireland and Eastern Europe. Most were thirsty fellows and ladies.
The only thing missing were the boisterous saloons of frontier living. The temperance folks had had their way. Prohibition was in full swing with ax-wielding do-gooders saving the population from the evils of demon rum. They had failed to convince the thirsty and the great unwashed as to the moral implications of boozing, so they simply legislated them into dusty submission. The noble experiment doomed to failure.
One man, set on making a living in his hometown, saw a window of opportunity. His family had made what they called mountain dew, or hooch since coming to the San Juans in the late 1880s. Then they sold it more out in the open. Today’s whiskey runner would have to be more careful. Although the authorities generally turned their backs when it came to the sins of the populace, one never took that benefit for granted. Only last spring the police had reluctantly arrested two Montrose men for selling bootlegged whiskey. Now the two were in jail and their families were hungry. What good did that do?
Abe Morrow had served in France during the war. He was convinced that the teetotalers had conspired against the doughboys during a time of national emergency. They had stabbed them in the back with all this Prohibition. If men in France forgot the horror of war with a good bottle (or three) of French wine what harm was done?
By 1925 the nation had settled back into what historians call the Great Dry Spell. Morrow, now approaching 3o years of age had a thriving business. His stills ran all day and he ran around all night satisfying the needs of his customers from Silverton to Dallas. It always amazed him how happy they were to see him. Very little sales work. Just a good sense of public relations and jugs of excellent souma, white lightning or poteen.
Most of his elixir was safe enough to drink and varied in quality and barter capacity. It was rumored that he distilled a sort of kosher whiskey and some powerful bailie, distilled from sorghum, that he sold to the Chinese in town and even up n Silverton, when the opportunity presented itself. He had to be careful not to step on the toes of other moonshiners who did not appreciate the intrusion into their territory and often met Asian customers at the top of Red Mountain Pass.
But most of his customers were miners, good hard working people in need of a good whistle wetting after a long shift underground.
He was looking good, but he needed to take on a partner, someone who could run the operation when he got too old. A bachelor, Abe had no kids to bring into the business. His prospects must know about hard woods and where to get them for a smooth taste. They had to study his bottling procedures. They had to be good in the woods at night. They had to shut their mouth about this and that. They had to be aware of what cops were also customers and which ones would be trouble. Most of all, they had to be honest…yes honest, with the customers and with Abe too.
Since most of his potential associates were employed, he would have to search the ranks of newcomers, or teach some kid the grist mill and mash trade before he embraced some other profession. The population of newcomers was peppered with a sad assortment of ragamuffins and scalawags and that was on a good day. He didn’t want to hook up with his competitors, the Carlson Boys, down valley because then he would have more than a partner, he’d have a boss. The same would go for alliances in San Juan County.
One afternoon as he was headed up to work up Hayden Mountain he noticed a young man coming out of the miner’s union. He knew the kid. His name was Richards. The two had stopped and talked before. His father had been killed at Belleau Wood in 1918. His mother had died of scarlet fever a few years later. Like many of the town’s younger men he had been rustling a job at one of the local mines. At present he said he had few prospects other than nipping at the Old Maid or tending to cranky mules up at the Camp Bird.
There were always jobs in the coal mines but that was far more dangerous work and besides, he had hard rock mining in his veins.
Morrow told Richards he was on his way to work and that he might be looking for some help later in the week. He was afraid to say more, but he needed to start somewhere. He felt like a high wire performer, sans net at his first practice session.
“I know what you do,” said Richards. “I see you coming and going. I don’t drink myself or I might have sampled your wares.”
Abe was dumbstruck. He thought he had covered his tracks better than this. He always took the back roads and never even drove his empty delivery wagon into town. He figured that the miners thought he was a rancher and the ranchers thought he was a miner. He hauled around an assortment of serious-looking tools that he had no use for simply to keep nosey sniffers off the scent. This kid was paying attention.
“So what is it that I do?” he finally asked.
“You deliver milk,” was the answer. “Mother’s milk, I suspect.”
Both men laughed. Abe carefully cross-examined Bobby Richards, attempting to sort out opinions on the morality of the liquor business.
“You looking for a job?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m getting tired of sweeping up and hustling newspapers at the brothels. I think I’m ready for a new career, something stable, with a future.”
“Have you checked at the bank?” smiled Morrow, looking Richards square in the eye.
“No money in that,” said the younger man. “Is this a job interview?”
“Maybe, but I’m having trouble with where to start,” said Morrow.
“Got some deliveries tonight?” asked Richards. “I can drive, you can drop.”
“I’ll think on it,” said Morrow without sharing further secrets.
Although his recent successes were closely aligned with keeping his business to himself, Morrow knew his prayers had been answered. The next day he approached Richards on the street.
“Still want that job?” he asked.
“Sure, except for the fact that I start my policeman training on Monday.”
Abe’s heart stopped. Was the kid serious? Nobody was smiling. Here in his first attempt at expanding his services he had just hired a cop, or at least a rookie one. He froze.
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Morrow. Everyone knows about your war record, how you were a hero and all. Even my dad talked about you in his last letters from France,” he said. “I have no problem with you. Even a cop takes a drink once in a while, illegal or not. Ain’t none of us voted for this Prohibition business anyway.”
Abe began to sweat. He had been so careful and yet this kid knew all about him.
“Lot’s of people know who you are and what you’re doing,” said Richards. “As far as they’re concerned you’re not hurting anyone…You’re just providing a needed service. The marshal and a lot of others don’t want anyone else coming in here upsetting the cart, no matter what the cargo.”
“So you won’t turn me in?” he choked.
“What for?” laughed the kid, “and if my new job doesn’t work out I might consider going to work for you. I think I’d be good at it.”
“No doubt,” thought Abe as the two parted ways. “I’d better move my copper kettles nonetheless,” he mused as he headed out of town.
As he made his way up past Ironton Park, Morrow took time to reevaluate his security procedures wondering how many other people knew his business. The money was too good to stop smuggling booze but he might have trouble sleeping from now on. Prison was not a part of his agenda.
He was far too afraid to conduct any more job interviews. He would remain a one-man enterprise, at least for the time being.
From time to time over the next few years Morrow would watch a young railroad cop walk his beat in Montrose. It was Richards. The new job had worked out fine but neither felt comfortable to resume earlier conversations.
Life goes on.
On February 20, 1933 a Lame Duck session of Congress passed the Twenty-first Amendment to the Constitution, repealing Prohibition. It ended an era of gangsters and widespread disregard for the law. It also killed Abe’s moonshine operation and he was forced to find another, more suitable occupation. One place he didn’t look was in the area of law enforcement.
– Uncle Pahgre
Eating garden tomatoes not a sin says Pope Leo
(Vatican) In a rare departure from socio-religious issues the leader of Roman Catholic Church today decreed that eating juicy, homegrown tomatoes was not in conflict with its teachings.
Pope Leo XIV told a throng of well-wishers in St Peter’s Square that although eating a drippy, sweet, red and meaty garden-grown tomato feels much like a mortal sin, it is not. It is not even a venial sin.
He further encourages his flock to “eat as many tomatoes as you like while the season is on”.
Pope Leo, an American, went on to say that he misses his garden in suburban Chicago and that a newly tilled one will be up and running next year in the Vatican.
“The Pontiff was too busty addressing war, poverty, starvation and racism to plant a garden this spring,” said a close aide. “Next year we hope to have corn over there (he gestured toward a basilica) and cucumbers over there. The tomatoes will be right in the middle getting full sun in the morning and shade in the afternoon.
The aide refused to comment when abruptly asked why the Vatican does not share its vast wealth with the impoverished of the planet.
Recent criticism leveled at the Church claims the religious body hoards riches and does not do enough to help the poor, especially those living in Latin America and Africa.
“Sure, they have all kinds of beneficial programs,” said one man who would like to see all of the Vatican gold redistributed to the poor.
“Isn’t that what Jesus would have done?” he smiled.
Back at St Peters the Pope told a cheering crowd that tomato sauces, stuffed tomatoes, tomato soup and even such nominally secular dishes as tomato bisque and fried green tomatoes are all fine to consume, even on meatless Fridays..
“These are not at odds with the doctrines and practices of Christianity,” said the Pope who scoffed at dispensations for eating apples.
“Especially when they are offered by snakes,” he laughed, “which is not a likely scenario.”
In closing the Pontiff warned the faithful about the pitfalls of eating genetically modified foods, which he said, is directly against the teachings of Christ and the Apostles as well as the Bible.
He also expressed distaste for what he called Christian arrogance and Judeo-Christian cherry-pickers who he said will not enter the gates of Paradise no matter how many hours they log in at a pew or Bible study.
– St Roscoe of Runnymouthe
The importance of cutting national intelligence quotients prioritized
When told by a reporter that the Oval Office was actually a rectangle, orange trump vacantly replied “I know that. We’re transparent and covert around here. There are no corners for deadbeats to hide in,” he said*.
“You know, malcontents on food stamps and Democrats playing the system is the big drain. It’s costing us billions!” he ranted. “Even massive tax breaks to the rich won’t solve this “wicked transgression of racketeering and gangsterism”, he deflected.
“Shapes don’t matter to me, he continued. “I have designed over 40 offices, built resorts and made millions through my business deals. I have strengthened our alliances, saved the failed Biden economy through my very popular tariffs, protected voting rights for white American citizens and killed socialist wind energy so we can all go back to watching television 22 hours a day.** In addition I have single-handedly reduced our reliance on National Intelligence, cutting the veteran spook staff by at least 1/3, maybe even 1/4, he bragged.”
“That orange thing is the president and he doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about you or I.” – reporter on oval and rectangular
* The AP Stylebook, Merriam-Webster, The American Heritage Dictionary and The Chicago Manual of Style have sanctioned the use of the world lie as a valid and more precise substitute for the word said when quoting trump or anyone associated with the current administration.
Noting a humorous aside, the exacting language cops topped off this phraseology with a vague reference: “How can you tell he is lying? His mouth moves.” In addition, the embrace of the new verb called “long in coming” by communist detractors certain that trump has never read these reference sources despite “finishing first in his class at University of Pennsylvania,” (or so he said.)
“He reads the wrappers on fast food delivered to the back door of the White House,” said one strawberry GOP congressman. “Otherwise, I have yet to see anything resembling a book in his possession. At least he’s white.”
**It is clear to these nincompoops that since wind energy is not a fossil fuel it is not powerful enough to operate common household appliances such as televisions, riding mowers and home air defense systems and therefore should be demonized, delegated to and designated as a shithole enterprise.
– Fred Zepplin
DISPATCHES FROM THE SAN JUAN
(Late 19th Century tidbits and teasers)
Mears Accused of Bribery
(Lake City) Local entrepreneur, Otto Mears, was formally charged today with bribery in connection with an alleged buy-off of more than 150 Ute chiefs and assorted braves. The action was taken by representatives of the federal government.
According to the allegations Mears offered the Utes $2 each for the release of some 150,000 acres of land on the east side of the Continental Divide from the Gunnison River to New Mexico territory. The two dollar payments were to act as a substitute for more than $100,000 offered by the government, at a later date.
Said Mears: The Utes would rather have the small cash allotment now than wait for the larger amount later. He added that he had saved the United States $900,700 and that he should be thanked rather than punished.
The Russian immigrant/railroad builder has been under the scrutiny of the authorities before due to questionable dealings with the Red Mountain Toll Road and the Ophir Loop. His close friendship with Chief Ouray and his position as negotiator with the Utes may have won him release in the past but the current charges are being pressed by Mears’ detractors at the state and federal level. A trial date has not been set.
Mears has reportedly been in hiding at the King Solomon Mine grooming his herd of Rocky Mountain canaries for the spring assault.
CAVIAR, FAKE PALMS GREET ROYALTY
(Telluride) When the Duke of Marlboro and the Duchess of Kent arrive in Telluride next week they will experience red carpet treatment San Juan style. In addition to feasts and mining exhibitions planned for the stay, the two will be put up at the lavish Sheridan Hotel which boasts the only indoor plumbing facilities in the county.
According to the greeting committee made up exclusively of mine owner’s wives, the comfort facilities, which froze up last week, have been thawed out and are ready for the duke and duchess. In addition a measles quarantine, affecting most of the valley to San Miguel City, has been lifted.
Chinese and Irish populations in the town will be restricted to Catholic Hill and kept away from the royal couple. The authorities fear Fenian activity among the Irish miners and “just don’t want the Orientals around.” The Duke, British born, has vast holdings in Ireland.
“We will fetch the royal couple from Montrose and accompany them into town on the Galloping Goose,” said one committee member. “It’s the first time anyone like this has visited Telluride since the troubles started at the Smuggler last spring.
Meanwhile most of the men and several of the women in town are busy growing mustaches in apprehension of the event.
“Even though we’d rather have a king and queen of someplace we’ll take these two,” said local banker Charles Waggoner. “It’s all sort of a dry run for the summer anyway,” he smiled, “when we’ve invited 4000 Texas tourists for the Fourth of July celebration.”
Day Wins Dozen Libel Suits in Three Hours
(Ouray) David Frakes Day, editor of the controversial Ouray Solid Muldoon. was acquitted on all charges stemming from 12 separate libel suits filed since last February. The happy editor left the courthouse smiling and immediately returned to work on this week’s issue.
Winning in court is nothing new for Day who has faced legal challenges from the beginning of his illustrious career.
“He doesn’t like Republicans, nor mine owners, nor Utes, not upwardly mobile women,” said his attorney. “That doesn’t leave to many people around these parts. I expect to be busy with his legal representation into the next century.”
BULLY SHOT, KILLER SOUGHT
(Telluride) Marshal Jim Clark, arguably the most hated and feared man in town, was shot in the back last night while patrolling Colorado Avenue.
For years known as a sadistic gunman who beat up miners and harassed citizens for his own enjoyment Clark will be missed by his horse. Although the killer is at large, leaders in the town say they will begin a thorough search for same just as soon as they are finished celebrating.
Clark will be buried in the third shaft from the right at the Butterfly-Terrible Mine. No service has been scheduled.
Bunco Artist Barred From Town
(Silverton) Convicted con man, Soapy Smith, was kicked out of town Friday and warned never to return. The slippery crook was this time accused to bilking miners and watering down whiskey at his makeshift gambling hall.
Readers will remember Smith’s antics over in Creede (another town from which he is banned from visiting) last year. According to eye witnesses there Smith claimed to have unearthed what he called The Cardiff Giant, which he claimed was a petrified corpse, from the Commodore Mine. After charging residents to see the thing Smith sold it to a traveling carnival.
This most recent infraction reportedly had to do with Smith’s attempts to sell rare Indian head nickels, graced by the image of George Custer on the flip side.
“The only reason we don’t hang that scalawag is because he gave out free turkeys to the needy last Christmas,” said one marshal, “and he’s nice to his mother.”
Indians Raid Rico Again
(Rico) Bands of Ute warriors attacked this remote gold camp again last night, raising hell and stealing horses. No one was injured as residents boarded themselves up and the Utes seemed satisfied with starting a few small fires and making a lot of noise.
This is the third time this month the town has fallen under siege.
“It’s getting to be a regular Saturday night ordeal,” said Walen Marks, mayor of Rico. “Next time we’ll be ready for them.”
The residents of Rico have been careful not to overreact to the attacks. Many are concerned that if they anger the Utes the tribe will put a curse on their valley like they have already done to the San Miguel, the Uncompahgre, the South Fork and the Gunnison Valleys.
“We don’t need that kind of publicity,” said Marks.
compiled fom various local news sources 1887 – 1891
Congress Reschedules Colonoscopies Until After Midterms
(Warshington) The United States Congress today rescheduled a group colonoscopy for three days after the coming Mid-Term election. The sudden shift affects 50 senators and over 80 representatives.
“We have been on hold here since Obamacare was destroyed, so what’s another few months?” asked Winnie Kampachi (Unitarian-MT).
The reason given for the cancellations was quite vague as has become customary within the governing body. Some say the simple surgery will conflict with last minute campaigning while others expressed concern that their medical results may get lost in the mail now that the USPS has been downsized.
“Considering the scope of things here most of our “leaders” don’t want to be on-camera until they can better analyze the polls in the days preceding homecoming at their designated Electoral College,” she whinnied.
Politicians in the loser’s seat after November remain in heated debate over what constitutes a pre-existing condition and what is clearly cranium-rectal disorder, often treated with overpriced robber baron pharmaceuticals.
The Congress will not be in session on the day of the colonoscopies despite the fact that the intrusive checkup is an outpatient procedure.
– Hal A Butt
****
In keeping with federal regulations and the continued validity of our FCC, OMG, KFC, LSMFT status the contents of this rattlesheet turned website must contain at least .03% useful information to our reader. We therefore take this opportunity to embrace public service by including this spit of data within the quakey walls of justice and eternal reams of our consciousness:
