Author Archive for M. Toole
Speaker Toole Takes Mulligan For Remainder of 2021
Veteran after-dinner speaker Melvin Bedwetter Toole has been banned from the Top Hat Speaker Circuit it was disclosed today. Critics say that in 45 years and after over 200 engagements Toole never spoke one word. According to several depositions and other criminal complaints “he just drank, ate, drank and disappeared. Once, in Moline, he even threatened a Hessian doorman who sought to block his exit.
A former aerialist, Toole often performed high-wire stunts without a net during cocktails then clammed up after desert. He has clearly been “given wide berth” over the past few years since many people feel sorry for him and others just want him to go away. Most of our readers know he was raised by forest Democrats – doomed as a ragged wolf boy until missionaries rescued him at 8.
“Perhaps that it why he so ardently welcomes reintroduction of gray wolves to Western Colorado,” said one police official in Minneapolis who claims Toole grazed for thirds at a recent buffet then stiffed the benevolent association by escaping in a laundry hamper when no one was looking.
– Gabby Haze
“Just figure you’re being lied to.” – Gaar Potter, former reality television personality and advertising executive, on industry standards.
Colorado weather “Just too nice” say neighboring states
(Laramie WY) States bordering Colorado are up in arms over what they say are fraudulent weather patterns encouraged down in Colorado. Included in a hastily prepared class action suit are accusations of entrapment, extortion, water grabs and illegal baiting.
Oklahoma, Kansas, Wyoming and Nebraska are named as plaintiffs with Texas and Louisiana expected on board within hours, even though these two domains do not physically touch the Centennial State.
The suit demands that Colorado “stop hoarding the sun and use the alpine climate sparingly so that others may participate in the celebration of life.”
“We hate seeing skier sitting out on so many decks catching rays in the snow while we’re freezing in our horrid winters,” continued the grievance.
The court action calls for a sharing of natural resources, lucrative cash settlement and an assortment of retroactive damages such as the return of Kiowa County to Kansas and reparations for expenses incurred by law enforcement in the face of illegal cannabis transport.
The suit did not mention the occupation of Slippery Jim Spring by a Rock Springs gun club last month. The seizure of that popular lover’s rendezvous, coupled with the looting of Maybell’s main street art galleries, has left residents here steaming mad.
“Lots of people think Colorado is frozen from November too April but that isn’t true,” said Deb Moniker, of Western Colorado Ski Country “There are pockets and banana belts and Santa Ana winds and lots of sun. There are natural hot springs. A person could play nine holes of golf in the morning at Cedaredge then drive less than two hours up to Silverton and hit the slopes for the afternoon,” she explained.
“It’s just damn nice here 90% of the time,” said April Gunderson of the Montrose Economic Development Consortium. “So what if so many of our young people have to leave in search of viable careers, we’re building houses like mad and we have every chain known to man on South Townsend. If it wasn’t for the occasional cold snap we could almost be classified as Mediterranean.
Although threats of secession and tariffs have subsided in favor of a war of attrition, plaintiffs will find it difficult to harness such a diverse region.
“A siege of towns such as Lake City and Crested Butte could prove futile since invading infantries are caught short of breath, often needing oxygen to continue the assault,” said Gunderson, “and that says nothing of blockading the uncharted miles of irrigation canals and ditches that meander through the near-desert.”
It has long been known that flatlanders resent mountain folk for their sorrels and winter tans, thinking us “oh so special freeloaders living hand to mouth in their elastic bubbles, incapable of comprehending real American weather of the Plains.
Insiders say the entire legal battle is in retribution for the University of Colorado leaving the Big Eight for the Pac-12 years ago and barely-masked jealousy over “immoral marijuana laws that have generated a fortune in the Rockies.
– Betta “Pickled” Grouper
“You’ve got a heavy pouring’ hand, Maggie”
– Melvin O’Toole to bar maid Margaret Doyle, while enjoying a wee John Powers with his Guinness, Bankers Bar, Trinity Street, Dublin.
SEASONAL GUSTS SEE RETURN OF CUMBERSOME WIND NETS
(Montrose) An intricate system of wind nets will once again be employed 2 miles east of town, in an attempt to cut losses and aggravation caused by the elements here. The nets, designed by engineers at Howl Turbines of Bostwick Park, saw only limited success last spring but are expected to exercise a very positive influence this year.
Employing the basic science of fly tying, the tiny squares are capable of catching everything from Herefords to lottery tickets.
“We can expect to recover almost anything blown off course by the high winds,” said one engineer. “While we are highly concerned with currency, grocery lists, discarded plastic bags and campaign literature, our biggest complaints so far have to do with the loss of cowboy hats.”
In response to the community the nets will be coated with a non-toxic sticky substance that will prevent these often cunning buckaroo hats from escaping once caught.
“There’s nothing quite so sad as to watch a full grown adult chase a new straw hat all the way to Gunnison in high winds,” said a source from city hall. “Our method is really quite simple, modeled after the spider’s web. Only this time the hat is the fly or visa versa.”
When installed the net stands erect across highway 50 and stretch about 1/2 mile to each side. A backup multi-colored nylon rope maze, knotted and fine tuned by local navy veterans to determine wind direction and velocity, is expected to be in place by Friday.
During normal business hours, small access portals allow motorized traffic regular access from 5 am to 8 pm. After that time only police, clerics and pizza delivery personnel will be allowed to penetrate the peremptory perimeter. During these dark hours teams of praetorian eunuchs will be patrolling the fringes of our strategic locales looking for rogue wind tunnels, wild asparagus and blueprints for the controversial Blue Creek Canyon Remodel.
Air travel to and from Montrose is not expected to be obstructed or improved during turbulent days. Insiders say that vertical service will most likely be more costly due to higher demand.
“It’s just another springtime in Montrose,” said 125-year-old driving instructor, Ernesto “Ernie” Rigarde. Yep, if you don’t like the weather around these parts just wait a few months and it will change.”
Local media workhorses at station ZYX will present a locally produced update this Saturday morning entitled “The Wind”. The program will feature a series of still life shots of the wind from 1900 to present. Filmed in conjunction with the Canning Channel “The Wind” will be broadcast at an undisclosed location from a press bunker somewhere in the Bland Valley. Critics say the presentation is quite appropriate, filling information gaps in a non-election year.
– Fred Zeppelin
“No more demon rum,” she say
“‘’cept maybe on a holiday.
Them holidays fly by so fast
Some for months and months they last.”
-Raynelle Downs, Bluefields, Nicaragua
Tattoos Upon Tattoos
Fans of indelible body marks and pigment designs were overjoyed today with the news that they might soon exhibit new tattoos over existing tattoos. Called Upcycled Tattoos, these superimposed skin illustrations have been successfully plastered as proxies swathing and masking earlier surrogates.
“It is clear that the image areas on the average human body are limited in scope and size,” explained dermatologist Evelyn Grouper, who began testing the new technology back in 2010.
Tattoo can be defined as an evening drum or bugle, calling soldiers back to their quarters. The British extended the term to include displays of military personnel but that is not the kind of tattoo we want to talk about or even why we are here in this cutting edge capacity today.
Grouper warns that professional attention is imperative in the process of adding tattoos to this permanent modus operandi.
“Hey, in the skin game everybody runs out of room sooner or later. That said, one must work within the proper ink jurisdiction or the second coat could feel chalky and create another layer of unwanted texture,” schooled Grouper. “We must prime around existing art or risk flaking.”
Idiomatically the word Ta-Tu itself appears to be derived from Tahitian, Tongan and Samoan tongues.
“Familiarity with what can be a tedious process is crucial,” she continued. “We don’t want to cover up a van Gogh with a velvet Elvis here.”
-Tommy Middlefinger
“Look, I just was simply reaching out to my team.” – NY Governor Andrew Cuomo, employing corporate jargon in an attempt to save himself from charges of sexual miconduct in a toxic workplace.
How Bunny Stoked the Cold War
(Big Corn Island, Nicaragua) Years ago a poor fisherman hauled in a large squarefish* just off the beach at Sally Peaches. He hid it for an anxious, appropriate period then negotiated with its Colombian owners for a lucrative finders fee and a guarantee that he would be left alone to spend his hard earned cash as he saw fit.
The unwritten rule on recovered cargoes like this stated that if the cocaine smugglers reneged and did harm to one of the “locators” there would be no more returns. The unearthed commodity and its finders would adopt a tight lip approach and make other arrangements to unload the merchandise elsewhere, leaving the original cocaine cowboys with a knee-breaking loss of money and face.
The lucrative discovery had propelled Hector Conjejos, or “Bunny” as he came to be called, from a net mender to a high roller. He shared his bundle all over the island and built a pink hotel on the spot of his find. No one was surprised when he called in Bunny’s. The now wealthy fisherman had become quite popular with the island ladies with all that loot at his disposal.
“Bunny got real handsome almost overnight,” said Renelle Downs, a longtime resident of Southwest Bay, in her carefully drawn-out Creole. “He be nice enough but he still funny lookin’ to me.”
But it was one lady Bunny desired — the stunning Beatrix from neighboring Little Corn Island, who had it firmly in her head that she would soon go to New York and be a model. Despite the fact that Big Corn itself was becoming a fashion-shoot destination she would never be satisfied hanging with Bunny in the islands while Gotham called. Even with Bunny’s unending attention plus a daily fare of crab and champagne it was only a matter of time before she flew the coop.
He had to act before she vamoosed and left him on his knees in the sand. If she was set on New York he would have to reinvent himself. The old Bunny, no matter how charming and rich, just wouldn’t do this time around. Beatrix was the prize and certainly worth the effort. He had never been to New York but the city’s skyline was already etched on the palm trees.
Bunny began poring over fashion magazines on the porch of his adjacent restaurant. He must have looked a sight all dressed up in a yellow jumpsuit and cowboy boots but nobody said anything. After all, it was his hotel. In addition, Bunny had been a Golden Gloves boxer in his youth and could have easily kicked their assembled asses.
Some days Beatriz would join him in the hammock, digesting styles in vogue from Rio to Rome. Their conversation glided from Paris to Milan with Bunny expounding on trends and fads, sans the barest of credentials. He seemed to delight in heady squabbles as to the absence of wool from the Caribbean wardrobe and why grass skirts never caught on in Mongolia.
“I didn’t know you had such an interest in my future profession,” she would say.
Bunny explored her green eyes and slender figure and just sailed along, smiling wide.
He read everything he could find and even travelled to Managua to attend several beauty pageants studying theme, atmosphere and learning how to build a proper standup runway.
One morning a tall thin European bellowed a greeting while Bunny was having coffee on his porch amid the red flowers of an African Tulip tree. When he reached the steps he introduced himself as Sergei Cassini and said he was on Big Corn doing a fashion shoot.
“I was searching for some props and the lady at the desk sent me over to talk to you,” said Cassini. “She also said you a sort of fashion icon and astute in the ways of the world.”
“Did she then? said Bunny
“I’ll be needing an old fishing boat, a beater surf board, an oak barrel and mess of coconuts,” said the man.
“Come up and have a drink,” said Bunny. “When will you be wanting these essentials and where? I will see that you have all that you need. Cassini, heh? I know that name.”
“My brother is Oleg, the famous designer. I guess I’m riding on his fame but only when the iron is hot. Otherwise I am in New York dealing with business responsibilities there.
“My brother is Oleg, the famous designer. I’m riding on his fame but only when the iron is hot.”
“Oh, what kind of business Mr. Cassini? asked Bunny
“We have Russian restaurants in Brighton Beach. Do you like sausage and kraut? How about blinis?”
“I like bikinis,” laughed Bunny.
“Don’t be fooled by the Italian surname. We are Cossacks. Our mother was Countess Marguerite Cassini and her husband, our father, was Count Alexander Loiewski, a Czarist diplomat. His maternal grandfather Arthur Paul Nicholas Cassini, Marquis de Capuzzuchi di Bologna, Count Cassini, had been the Russian ambassador to the United States during the administrations of William McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt.
“In 1917,” he continued, “the family was forced to flee our native Russia after the Bolsheviks came to power. Aristocrats were not on their post-revolutionary dance card. We left a houses, land and bank accounts behind, finally settling in Italy where the family began using Cassini instead of Loiewski.
That was long before my brother went to work for Paramount Pictures and later created the Jackie Look. “Better than most-Second to none” was his mantra.”
Bunny listened, floored by his good luck at meeting this well-connected filmmaker. The next day he delivered the props to the filming site along with a mess of crabs and beer compliments of his restaurant. Cassini thanked him and invited him to stick around.
“That’s quite a trove of magazines,” said Cassini, when the two met up the next day on the shady porch. You may have the best resource library in Nicaragua. Are you chasing a dream?”
“No. I’m chasing a slender 115-pound beauty that wants to become a fashion model in New York. I figure if I bone up on the ins and outs I might find work, maybe as a designer or a photographer.”
“Have you thought of writing? All of the magazines on your table pay for features and critiques,” said Cassini. New York is home to a better class of writers than Hollywood. Anyone can take a photo and write a review but it takes real talent and insight to detect the wrong crease or a poor button selection. It’s the little things that separate the critics from the bumbler. The pay won’t be much at first but it doesn’t look like you need the money.”
Sadly, Bunny had the literary ability of a leopard slug. He was hard pressed to write – even about fishing, a profession he had embraced for decades until that splendid afternoon when the squarefish surfaced on Sally Peaches.
“To me, the void is most apparent when analyzing and assessing the fashion scene in more remote circles,” continued Cassini. “Everyone writes about the hot spots but nobody talks about the hidden agenda.”
“The hidden agenda?” asked Bunny
“The subtleties of an arena not known for compelling attire or cutting-edge design, you know like Eastern Europe, North Korea or Canada. Imagine a piece on Hungarian cocktail dresses or Canadian swimwear. It may sound less than inspiring, but nobody’s doing it,” he smiled.
Bunny was speechless. He hadn’t thought this plan all the way through. He was, after all, rich, literate and owned a camera. Maybe he could publish fashion articles and capture the lovely Beatrix in the shuffle.
“I’d be interested in pursuing that,” he said to Cassini who was now on his third Flor de Cana of the morning.
“It makes the most sense. But first you’ll need a nom de plume…something familiar…something very American,” he pressed rubbing his hands together slightly.
Bunny thought for a moment. American? Who was the most American American? He wanted a name that was familiar yet remote, a name that demanded attention and provoked passion.
“How about John Wayne?” asked Bunny
“Now that might attract the kind of attention that we seek,” Cassini laughed. “I like it. Now you just have to be a little haughty, a little snotty and a bit impetuous to pull it off.”
“Besides brushing up on my grammar, where would I begin?” queried Bunny trying on his new status before he so much as picked up a pen. “I don’t know anyone in New York.”
“I could make a few phone calls,” offered Cassini. “I have people in the business that come into my restaurant a couple of times a week,” he winked. “I’ll ask around.”
The next day, when the men met, Cassini was full of enthusiasm.
“We have friends who might be interested in reading your stories. They are in New York. They are always looking for feature pieces from the little known sectors of the globe. They are Russian like me, and vehemently anti-Soviet,” he continued.
“Do you have any problem writing scoops and anecdotes that ape the Politburo box suits and mock peasant dresses that hang like curtains that have seen their last performance?”
“Do you have any problem writing scoops and anecdotes that ape the Politburo box suits and mock peasant dresses that hang like curtains that have seen their last performance?”
Bunny thought for a moment, then he thought about Beatrix.
“Not on your life,” he said, suddenly feeling a part of something big and exiting.
“Good. Your first article might talk about bad haircuts or what happens when the Soviet leaders try to grow beards like that fellow in Havana, said Cassini, wheels a-turning. My friends up north have files of photos and eager editors. You’ll have more support than the Lend Lease Act.”
Over the next two weeks the two concocted a symbiotic plan that would win the hand of Beatrix and give the Soviets a black eye in the garment world. Before he knew it he was on a conference call with several of Cassini’s friends and assorted editors.
“We hate the Bolsheviks,” said one. They can’t even make decent pelmeni and their shchi tastes of sawdust and the blood of White Russians!”
Another chimed in saying the Soviets spend the day mainlining borscht and chasing their vodka with pickled cucumbers. How gauche. If they ever offer you kasha tell them you have already eaten.”
He began a weekly column from his porch, comparing western and Eastern European styles even though he had never been there.
Reporting all the rage, propped up by a slew of media goons at Coney Island, was the new Bunny.
Meanwhile his associates in New York had hit a home run with ventures like Kiev Coiffures, an elite Carib-Volga line of exotic exercise clothing and private label deck shoes dubbed Sevastopol, Yalta and Trotsky.
“Hey, we’re not…you know…” said Cassini pushing his nose to the right with his thumb like Bunny had seen in the gangster movies.
“We’re not the mob but sometimes we do some work for them.”
At first the Kremlin liked all the attention until they figured out the articles were making them out to be bozos.
“Who is this John Wayne?” they demanded at the United Nations.
“Potato Head Styles” may have been the kicker. He had struck a nerve and would soon go to New York. He would have the beautiful Beatrix, who was hedging on her grand designs of moving to New York. He also noticed that she had gained quite a bit of weight on the lobster and champagne.
Finally the two journeyed to New York together. Bunny was a sight in his yellow suit, Tony Lamas and montecristi hat while Beatrix looked delicious in a lavender suit and white silk scarf. They passed the time making fun of the clothing worn by other passengers and ordering bottles of wine.
Pen in hand, Bunny was like the bad aroma of a Wahoo fart. No one escaped his volcanic eye. He slammed Aukland wool caps, red shukas from Nairobi, jute sarees in Kolkata and white knee sox in Cleveland.
Then he went back at the Soviets – an easy target especially for someone with no taste or knowledge of the subject at hand. These pathetic scribblings led to much publicity and became the source of great humor in Hungary, as well as what was Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia.
“It was almost like the articles hit the mark because they were so poorly written,” said Cassini years later.
Meanwhile up in America then President Eisenhower was having none of it. Prior to Cuban Missiles and Sputnik, a moneyed Bunny was embraced under the umbrella that protected Somoza Regime, the Panama Canal and particularly the US-owned United Fruit Company. Keep Commies out of the banana trees and all of that misdirected Latin-America policy mumbo-jumbo was the order of business.
“He’s on our side,” they liked to say after reading one of his vile and disparaging articles like Ivan Goes To The Beach and the newest on the Red Army’s Tartar Woolens.
But what really opened the door is that Bunny was a scratch golfer having picked up the game from Crimean seamen who often waited out storms in Bluefields, on the Nicaraguan mainland. They taught him to putt and chip like a pro. Everyone knew Ike couldn’t resist playing nine or maybe eighteen. besides, Bunny appeared to be a source of much desired information on Central American society. They played a few rounds and Ike won. Bunny now had a friend in the White House.
It was on that trip to the US that Bunny and Beatriz met the famous Russian dissident and tailor Yakov Yakir, who had just competed his new Vicuna Wool spring collection from a Leningrad (now St Petersburg) jail cell. Yakir, the acclaimed inventor of the Kerensky G-string was momentously freed for a highly anticipated fashion show featuring Anouska Lebedev, the legendary model and niece of former president Boris Yeltsin.
One day a phone call from New York was a stark reminder – “We see a way you can further embarrass the Reds”, said the groveled voice on the other end of the line …and so part in loyalty and part in fear he kept up the fashion pieces only this time with digs, daggers and booby traps certain to belittle the Soviets. His favorite locale was the beach.
“They resembled wobbly walruses in cheap polyester,” he wrote. “Their fur hats made everyone else at the beach itchy. They dared not approach the sea for fear that the suits would disintegrate with contact with salt water. Small birds sought out the material to build makeshift nests while sand crabs would not approach.” he puffed. “Some paraded around in painfully brief Speedos looking like marshmallows wrapped in Kalamata leaves.”
The Kremlin reaction was now swift and merciless. Troops were repositioned on the Chinese border and vodka prices went up. Political enemies were sent to Siberia. Many feared a repeat of the bloody Stroganoff Skirmishes between Poland and Czarist Russia in the 18th Century.
“Who is this John Wayne?” the Soviet bosses screamed.
“Who is this John Wayne?” the Soviet bosses screamed.
Soon fashion critics all over the world were swimming to Bunny’s sloop anchored in Peconic Bay., near Springs on Long Island. His articles were now being reprinted in Turkish as well as the romance languages. What was harmless chatter in most ports became mean and slanderous indictments levied by an Istanbul culture at odds with Russia since Mahmud of Gazni in the 11th Century.
Meanwhile Beatrix fell in love and married the singing Irish bartender at the Clare To Here Pub, located on the first floor of Bunny’s Upper East Side apartment building. Opting out as a model she moved back to Little Corn Island with her new husband and opened a dive shop/tiki bar at Fowl House Beach. She hasn’t seen Bunny in years.
Footnote: History buffs continue to deny this and many other stories appearing on this website. They cannot, however, deny that when the Soviets went into Afghanistan in 1979 most of the troops were wearing white after dark, and khaki from the Caucasus. The regiments were often outfitted in kaftans and terliks with matching yushmons from the spring Breznev collection… and that validates this account and about buttons up further conclusions on this end.
And Bunny? In his own words: “I’ve had about enough of blacktop, taxis, overpriced pizza and cold weather. This high-roller literary life isn’t for me. I’m going fishing for a long, long time. Punch my ticket for Sally Peaches.”
– Kevin Haley
Say hey! Happy 90th to Willie Mays. One of the best.
Montrose Distillery Wins Big
When it reigns, it pours. Storm King Distilling Co. is proud to announce that they have been named the 2021 Colorado Outstanding Distillery by the Colorado Manufacturing Awards (CMA). The announcement comes on the heels of two big wins for the distillery’s whiskey. In April, Storm King Distilling Co. took home gold medals for its Side Gig Whiskey and its first release of Colorado Straight Bourbon Whiskey at the Denver International Spirit Competition.
Of the recent successes, Co-founder and distiller, David Fishering stated that “Whiskey is what we love and so to have our first ever single barrel bourbon receive a gold medal, in addition to the success that Side Gig has had, is beyond fantastic. Then to follow that up with the CMA announcement, it was just surreal. We think we make great spirits and that we are passionate about the process, and it is great to see that others recognize it too. The CMA honor is a real independent validation of everything we are doing as a distillery. Many people see us as a local bar via the tasting room and although we are providing a unique and top-shelf experience there, we are a manufacturing facility at heart; our passion is the craft of making quality spirits and we do this all while being an integral part of our community.”
Speaking on the release of the gold-medal winning bourbon Fishering explained that “like all of our whiskies, our Colorado Straight Bourbon is made from 100% Colorado grown grain from Whiskey Sisters Supply in Burlington. It was important for us from the very beginning to find local partners that care about their products as much as we do and to showcase the terroir in Colorado grains. Barrel #20 was a mashbill of 65% corn and 35% rye, aged for over 2 years in a toasted and charred 25-gallon American White Oak barrel. We are super excited about it and only wish we had more!” The distillery’s bourbon is currently available in the tasting room only.
In operation for three years, Storm King Distilling Co. is the first and only distillery in Montrose, Colorado. The distillery manufactures a wide range of spirits including whiskey, gin, rum, agave, and vodka. The diverse product line allows for creativity in the tasting room and cocktail bar, which has become a destination for locals and tourists.
CONTACT: David Fishering, Co-founder/Distiller
Storm King Distilling Co.
