Author Archive for M. Toole

DOW Considered Feeding Deer Uranium Tailings in 50s

(Greager Flats) With the release of secret Division of Wildlife files there is conclusive evidence that Game and Fish officials planned to feed uranium tailings to local mule deer in 1956. The plan, dubbed Operation Atomic Bambi by militant factions within the agency, was to be enacted following combined hunting season and carried out through the winter months.

“Let’s be fair here,” stressed Merv Ditchwater, a spokesman for the state. “Back in 1956 people thought uranium tailings were just part of the landscape. They thought the waste was just the price of progress. They certainly didn’t worry about the dangers of toxins what with the Cold War raging and the local economy booming over in the West End.”

Operation Atomic Bambi was simply an attempt to kill two birds with one stone according to higher ups in the agency. There were lots of tailings and lots of hungry deer. On unreliable source told The Horseshoe that growing bigger, possibly more intelligent animals was the ultimate goal.

“We thought we could grow giant deer and maybe larger elk with this high-tech diet,” said the source, now retired to the graveyard, who worked on the project. “Then we could jack up the price of licenses. Nobody knew much about uranium and the negatives of mining the stuff. It’s a lot like the fracking industry today.”

The nuclear business has still failed to come up with a safe, effective way to store its byproducts yet it continues to generate tons of toxic waste per year.

“Maybe the Atomic Energy Commission is waiting for aliens to land and show us the way,” laughed Ditchwater. “Either way we’re in deep guano when it comes to the future of the planet.”

Officials at the division admitted that the only animals that liked the tailings were prairie dogs and cockroaches. Both species grew enormous in no time at all and had to be deported to the Utah desert where they still thrive. Hunting season on these mutated beasts has been suggested but never launched due to the questionable quality of the meat..

“The deer never really gave the program a chance,” said Ditchwater. “Hell, they didn’t even know a cold war from a bucket of oats. They stuck their little noses up at the tailings and continued to chew on sagebrush, and alfalfa when they could get it.”

Today Colorado has an overrun of deer and more elk than any other state except Euphoria. According to a staff biologist they are the same size they were back in the Thirties, when residents here all but succeeded in eating them all up.

-Tommy Middlefinger

Banks Militant About Going Green

(Manana) Leading local banks have joined the green jousting at a traveling circus pace. Over the past 35 years the nod toward a more environmentally conscious marketplace has gained measured momentum, defining how daily commerce is conducted. Financial concerns were early responders when it came to projecting goals and setting realistic parameters for a symbiotic exchange with the natural order.

“We didn’t really want to engage in window dressing when it comes to the politically correct,” said Abner Bond, president of Eco Green National Bank. “There is a direct link between the type of customers we want and the way we treat the world round us.”

This emerging sensitivity has the earmarks of a grand competition. These days it is not enough to recycle everything and upgrade to alternative energy methods. Now the banks spend plenty of time and money to convince their customers that they are the good guys when it comes to the natural walk and talk. This shift has become a crucial part of image and reputation, not to mention credibility.

Whether the sincerity meter goes up or down, even the stodgiest are all in on protecting the environment. Eco Green announced today that it would offer solar-powered safety deposit boxes before the end of the year while Pachamama Savings and Loan will no longer embrace fossil fuels in daily transactions.

“It’s just friendly scrimmage,” said a high-ranking teller at All Saints Credit Union. “We are simply much more hipster than the other banks and it shows. Employees there must wear at least one article of clothing made from hemp and, in addition to the self-sustaining aqua-terrarium in the lobby, the bank has adopted a makeshift plan for paperless restrooms.

Some banks have taken matters further with solar panels on automatic teller machines and the use of candles and cigar boxes in lieu of wasteful computers and energy deficient lighting. Plant-based on-line banking and telepathic overdraft notices have been discussed.

“I for one welcome the climbing wall and the exercise bikes,” chimed in the always merry Dolores Alegria, eternal board member at Who’s On First? State Bank. Alegria is recognized as a pioneer in clean off-shore, dryland investments. Her puppetry with progressive food banks, snowbanks and blood banks all but landed her privileged posterior in the calaboose*at the turn of the last century.

Who’s On First takes sustainable business practices seriously, featuring green roofs designed for longevity and a limited impact on the earth. Reduced carbon footprint, transparency and community engagement are the keys to generational success here, according to stockholders.

In the interest of waste reduction tellers at Eco Green have reportedly been instructed to throw away $1 bills at the end of the workday while Pachamama has issued little lapel pins exclaiming “I walked to my bank today” to customers who disengage from motor vehicles in favor of their feet.

-Sterling Bidet

*Alegria was pardoned by his highness King Leopold of Belgium who, as it turned out had no authority to pardon so much as a church mouse. A hesitant bank examiner, frightened of losing her job if she did not comply with the amnesty, destroyed a critical response, court document and the matter was forgotten.

Giants on the Subway

(New York – November, 1955)

     It was a perfect day for football. The two New York Giants who ducked their hulking heads hopping the Bronx train at 34th Street knew that. It would be bloody, bone-crushing. It was the Bears coming to town.

     Al Donovan and Billy Macheski were linemen. They played both ways…offensive and defensive. As the signed autographs for little kids they talked about the afternoon’s competition.

     “I don’t like playing this team,” said Macheski. “Last year Lane bit off a piece of my earlobe after a recovered his fumble. Then later in the game Switzer kicked me when the ref wasn’t lookin’.”

     “You’re a stitch!” laughed Donovan. “Who was it that was voted Mr. Doom at the team dinner last year? Wasn’t it something like Machewly…Macherny…oh, yes, Macheski!”

     “That was for my performance on defense,” barked Macheski. “When I’m on offense I’m really quite polite. After I drive their helmets into the turf I help them up. Rather gallant, I think. Before and after the game I tip my hat to the ladies, whether at home or away, and always send my mom a birthday card.”

     “A virtual saint he is,” smiled Donovan. “The Polish prince himself! I’m just glad I don’t have to play against you on Sundays. Tuesday and Thursday practices are bad enough.”

     “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me, Al,” quipped Macheski rubbing away an imaginary tear.

     A small boy in a Dodger hat toddled up to the two offering them a bite of his apple.

     “Why sure, son,” said Donovan biting off a small piece from the uneaten side of the apple. “How about you, Billy?”

     “Oh, I’m not hungry…”

     “Have a bite of the kid’s apple,” said Donovan.

     “Sure, Al,” frowned Macheski taking a small chomp.

     The giant hauled the kid up onto his lap and asked him the particulars. He told him he lived in Brooklyn too. His young mother sat across the aisle beaming at the two bruins.

     “Are you going to the game today, son?” asked Macheski.

     “No, sir,” answered the kid. “We’re going to see my dad. He’s in jail.”

     At that the mother grimaced.

     “Don’t bore these nice men with your stories, Billy,” she said.

     “Billy, huh,” smiled Macheski. “We’re both Billies…”

     The subway screeched to a halt and the mother and son got off the train. The kids waved good-bye and the monsters smiled back.

     “The kid’s dad in jail, heh. That’s a corker. I remember getting thrown in jail back in 1950 after we beat California in the Rose Bowl.”

     The subway rolled through Harlem, stopping at various points for passengers to enter and depart. Several of those recognized the two Giants and wished them well on the afternoon’s game.

     “You’ll cream those Bears today,” said one man.

     “You’ll smash ’em,” shouted two boys who tossed a football back and forth in their seats.

     “I wonder if you could sign last week’s program for my daughter,” asked another rider who said she lived in Chelsea. “She’s a big fan of yours, Billy.”

     The train reached the Bronx, just as an elderly fan completed his appraisal of the team’s chances for the remainder of the season.

     “Almost there,” whispered Al to himself. “I’m glad I have tomorrow off. I’ll need it to soak this knee. Then I’ll take Saturday to go over the offense for next week’s game in Green Bay.”

     “Oh, hell, we’re going up to that ice box? The $3,000 they pay me to play football just ain’t enough. Frostbite is worth $4,000 at least.”

     “Yeah, and you’ve got two kids to send to college someday,” said Macheski.

     “Why do you think I have a day job down at the Brooklyn Ship Yards. Longshoremen are still paid better than the heroes of the gridiron,” said Donovan sarcastically, “besides they pay a pension.”

     The train pulled up across from Yankee stadium and the two threw their spikes over their shoulders and departed.

     “No matter how many games I play I still get butterflies,” said Macheski, “but I love it.”

     “Sissy,” chided Donovan. “It’s a grand day for football.”

– Kashmir Horseshoe

Cattle Cars Block Gates, Delay Flights

(DFW) Lines of worn out railroad cars, originally designed for livestock, have wrecked havoc at many of the nation’s airports, blocking airplane access, limiting normal passenger boarding procedures and slowing down what has long been a dehumanizing experience. Critics of the industry contend that humans are routinely delivered to departure points by these less than pristine land yachts.

And that says nothing about understaffed and currently unpaid air traffic controllers.

“Hordes of flights have been delayed and some even cancelled,” said consumer protection advocate Abbey Wingseat. Airports have become less and less user friendly and now these persistent traffic jams in front of gates have created an intolerable almost noxious environment for pilots, flight crews baggage personnel and. Lest we forget…passengers who have paid to fly.”

Cattle cars are often backed up across runways making parking of planes a lengthy disaster, especially for those with tight connecting flights. It appears to be a problem only with US carriers. Despite all the slogans and promises these U.S. based airlines have continued their descent.

“How are we supposed to load the increased throng of passengers if we don’t improvise?” Asked Fardt, of of American Airlines. “Sure, people are unhappy with the conditions right now but they will soon forget about the trials of boarding once they are on the plane.”

Spokesman for United Airlines chipped in saying that what goes on on the tarmac stays on the tarmac. She reiterated that most planes reach their destinations safely and without incident., adding that only malcontents find that the use of this bucolic transportation (provided to passengers at no extra charge) dilutes the flying experience, is dirty and causes anxiety.

“We are not livestock,” said one frequent flyer of Southwest. He then promised that his next trip would be by bus.  He then broke into a chorus of moos, baaas, low bellows, snorts and grunts, supported by other quasi-stranded travelers, a chorus of the disaffected. Many wonder what happened to what was once a pleasant experience in the air.

“But we offer more leg room,” chimed in the airline source.

-Tommy Middlefinger

“Is it more secure to surround oneself with unread books or books that you have read 100 times? What about even once?” – Dolores Alegria

Medicine Wagon in Ashes

Special from the Ouray Solid Muldoon

(Uncompahgre City –1880) The sale of more than 200 bottles of alleged cure-all elixir has resulted in the destruction of a gypsy medicine wagon and the near tar and feathering of one Doctor Orwadd Chestnut. According to local marshals Chestnut sold his self-heralded mixture to naive townspeople with the promise that it would relieve rheumatism, prevent small pox, treat bunions, prevent pregnancy, fade freckles, improve hearing, reduce stress, and attract the opposite sex. It also proved to be an effective meat marinade and intoxicant according to the doctor, who concocted the juice up in his clandestine Gladstone laboratory last summer.

     Of the 200 persons who paid $2 per bottle for the stuff, about 195 were severely displeased. When the subject came up at the weekly town meeting and continued over at the Blind Horse Tavern it was decided that actions speak far louder than words. That night, under cover of January darkness, an angry mob approached the medicine wagon, parked illegally, we might mention, in the heart of the red light zone on 2nd Street.

     A spokesman for the group, Al Utter, who had purchased two bottles of the elixir, demanded that Chestnut return the money spent on the cure-all. The doctor agreed saying that he would gladly accept unopened bottles in that they were legitimate returns. That would be impossible, said Utter since everyone tried “the worthless potion” and only then did they realize they had been hoodwinked.

     Chestnut smiled nervously and said he could do nothing for them He then attempted to terminate the discussion by slamming the door of his wagon when Utter, aided by a size 13 shoe, blocked his evasive tactics. He grabbed the doctor by the collar and attempted to shake the money out of him.

     “We heard a few coins drop on the wooden floor knowing that this charlatan had stashed or spent the cash,” said Sam Murphy, local undertaker a leading member of the vigilantes. “It was at that moment when somebody yelled Burn him out!  and torches appeared. In moments the brightly colored gypsy wagon was in flames.”

     After watching helplessly while his establishment fried Doctor Chestnut decided that discretion was in fact the better part of valor and that ill gotten gains could cost him his neck. He relented and gave back the $400 (a handsome sum to say the least), spouting apologies, quoting the moralists and begging for mercy. The mob then returned the remaining elixir, those bottles that had not been smashed against the burning wagon. Several eye witnesses insist that they saw evidence of tar and feathers in the wings and that Chestnut was smart to leave town.

     “People just don’t like strangers coming into town fast talking them out of their hard earned money,” said one marshal. “It’s a long winter up here. We’ll just save the tar and feathering for another day,” he smiled.

     Meanwhile up in Highland Mary residents report a severe drop in small pox, freckles and general stress. In addition they informed this reporter that rheumatism was under control and that everyone in town could hear much better after a week taking Chestnut’s recipe. Bunions, too, had miraculously disappeared from the toes of the miners.

     “We don’t know how the stuff works with regards to the opposite sex since we don’t have any women currently residing here,” said one satisfied customer.

Mercenaries Win World Series

(Toronto) The Los Angeles Mercenaries defeated the Toronto Blue Jays last night 5 – 4 in the 11^th inning. A mostly copped squad, the Mercenaries have the largest payroll in baseball. There was a time when the LA franchise had the finest minor league programs in the sport. Now traditional modes have made way for cash.

The absence of an established salary cap in baseball is the culprit here. Until that matter is settled we will watch as the Dodgers along with the Yankees, Red Sox, Cubs and Mets continue to buy instead of develop. The big markets dictate everything including lucrative TV contracts. Meanwhile the fan pays the freight.

Or will these smaller market fans get tired of the imbalances and choose not follow their teams  at all? When a backup shortstop makes millions and many workers struggle on $15 per hour the hardball precipice is quaking and shaking, primed for a fall of some magnitude.

2026 would be a splendid time to boycott Major League Baseball until it comes to its collective sense and saves the National Sport from moolah mode. Maybe then salaries might level off and Americans can enjoy more competitive baseball played on level playing fields and not bags of gold and ledger sheets.

-Pepper Salte