Author Archive for M. Toole

TROUT GEARING UP FOR OPENING DAY

(Gunnison) The cold-blooded residents of Blue Mesa Reservoir are bracing for high water and an increase in anglers as opening day nears. Necessary preparations include familiarity with bait, lures and line. Trolling procedures and hook removal must be addressed. Eluding the fisherman while eating well, diversionary tactics and a variety of aquatic calisthenics must be covered to sustain schools throughout the heavy seasons.

Piscatorial leaders confirm that spring training has been tougher than usual since water levels have fluctuated from low to low in a late runoff.

Meanwhile according to a blurred press release received this afternoon, President Obama , in town pitching an economic stimulus bill will supposedly throw out the first line on Thursday. Either that or Hillary will simply pitch out the first fish on Friday in an attempt to give voters another line of fin jargon to get them.

 NBA TO EMPLOY KAZOOS

(Phoenix) Referees employed by the National Basketball Association will substitute kazoos for whistles during the play-offs in 2014. The move comes in response to the ungodly length of the season and due to complaints by players that the shrill whistles hurt their ears. Many refs report that their whistles “peter out by about May anyway and are worthless by June”. In the past the zebra-clad judges have taken to simulating the sounds by whatever method is necessary.

“It’s really tough on the referees that never learned to whistle as a boy,” said one worn out official. “The kazoos break the monotony of the bouncing ball, the grunts and the squeaky sneakers on the wood floor.”

Several players, who were young men when the most recent season began in October seem to like the idea while management is fully supporting the changes due to fiscal considerations in that now they no longer have to hire a band for the evening.

 HORSESHOE PEDDLES MOVIE RIGHTS TO TAX RETURN

(Montrose) The San Juan Horseshoe has agreed to sell all movie rights to its 2012 Federal Tax Return according to unreliable sources in the executive darkroom. No fiscal figures were released as of this morning but insiders say the amount was substantial.

“We were attracted to the return strictly because of an incredibly creative plot which, although preposterous at times, held the interest of our staff,” said Omar Gantry, of Saccharine Brothers Pictures. “The potential for a big hit was evident from page one even though the characters don’t seem real like the people here in Hollywood.”

A spokesman for the Internal Revenue Service explained the developments in that the agency would probably grab at least half the projected profits from the venture and was motivated as well as excited by the kinky possibility of sucking blood from a turnip.

Old Tarzan

“One would think, Tarzan, that after all the good things you’ve done over the years, the things that have made you a living legend, you wouldn’t have to resort to applying for welfare,” says the social worker. “Certainly you must be in great demand for public appearances.”

The one-time King of the Jungle, now eighty eight years old, has found himself penniless and unemployable. In a last gasp attempt to survive in the modern world, Tarzan has swallowed his pride and is applying for financial aid at the Department of Social Services.He is about to undergo the preliminary screening to determine if he is eligible for government assistance. 

“Unfortunately, that’s not true,” replies Tarzan glumly. “You know the way this world is. People don’t care about past heroics. Everything is, ‘What have you done for me lately?’ And, in my case, the answer is, ‘not much.’ It seems that everyone has forgotten all the good things I’ve done. They just remember the most recent stuff.Do you know what happened the very last time I tried to warn native village about an approaching elephant stampede?”

“No.”

“Well, I tried my best, but…..,” says Tarzan, trying to hold back his tears. “I swear I tried my best, but by the time I got to the village, it was just too late. Everything was destroyed. So many lives lost. I tried running as fast as I could, but with the bunions on my toes, don’t ask about the agony I was in. Years of running through the jungle have played havoc with my feet. And I couldn’t swing from the trees to get there because the rheumatoid arthritis in my hands makes it impossible for me to  close them around a vine.”

“It seems like there are so many things in this world that can make life so terribly difficult,” says the worker trying to comfort the visibly upset Tarzan.

“You’re not kidding. It’s a…jungle out there.”

“Tarzan, I have to believe that, even despite all the things you’ve told me, people would come from miles around to see you do your Tarzan yell.”

“Oh, I stopped yelling about five years ago. I just lost it. Every time I’ve tried to do it since then, all I could do was cough up phlegm,” groans the Jungle King who begins to cough up phlegm. “Like this,” he utters, in between heaves.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” says the worker, obviously disgusted; and as Tarzan continues his coughing fit to point of convulsions, the worker mutters under his breath, “and even sorrier to witness it.”

After almost a minute of hacking noises that were better of left in the jungle the coughing fit subsides.

“I’m O.K. now.”

“Good. Now, to get back to your application, I see you’ve requested the maximum amount of basic needs money. Just to explain what the department defines as a basic need: it’s really every necessity other than the rent. Clothing is a basic need. So is food. And money for transportation. Now, in your case, I’d have to wonder if you really need as much money for clothes as someone else would. It would seem to me that a wardrobe consisting of loin cloths is relatively inexpensive.”

“Look at this body. Do you think I can still get away with just wearing a loin cloth? I haven’t done that for over ten years. Once I passed seventy five, numerous pieces of my anatomy started drooping and hanging out. You don’t know how embarrassing it was. I’m wearing an orthopedic truss under this. I have to wear one all the time. And those things run into money.”

“O.K. That’s valid. I’ll just make a little notation here of that. It also says here that you have two dependents other than yourself. I assume one is Jane.”

“No. Jane died five years ago. Malaria.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Quite all right. At first, I took it pretty bad. But about three years ago, I met a wonderful woman. Esther Greenbaum. Believe it or not, she was on a African safari sponsored by a Lady Hadassah group. I really wasn’t looking to get involved. I just wanted to monkey around, but, before I knew it, I fell in love with her. And she fell in love with me.”

“It’s good to hear that something in your life is going well. I assume the other dependent is Boy.”

“Boy?!” Tarzan growls. “Don’t even mention his name to me! He doesn’t call. He doesn’t write. Not even a postcard. Fathers Day- I don’t hear nothin’ from him. He’s all grown up. Mr. Fancy Schmancy. He doesn’t need his father anymore. If it were up to him, he’d probably want me put away with all my other older friends.”

“A senior citizen center?”

“No, Lion Country Safari.”

“Boy,” sighs the worker.

“Do me a favor,” says Tarzan indignantly. “Don’t even mention his name.”

“Well, then, who is the second dependent?”

“Cheetah. That’s why I’m asking for the maximum food stamp allotment. I’ll need it for her bananas.”

“I’m surprised Cheetah’s still around.”

“Oh she’s great,” says Tarzan with a smile. “And she’s still the best friend I ever had. We don’t swing like we did in the old days, but we still have fun. We play gin rummy. On Sundays, we play a little golf. And she still looks great, too. Looks half her age.”

Satan Apologizes

(Up there) After an eternity of hostility toward Heaven, Satan, dba Lucifer the Archangel, has offered a formal apology for sins chronicled since he was cast out of paradise eras ago. In what is being called the most important metaphysical breakthrough since the Mormons discovered America, Satan’s apology was brief, calling for an immediate truce between the celestial super powers.

“Many people don’t believe that this fellow Satan actually exists,” said Rev Phil Pharisee of the Temple of Divine Panacea in Manana. “He does. It is fundamental to our quest that this fallen angel be brought back into the fold. Forgiveness is powerful and once the Evil one makes restitution he will be exonerated. Imagine the impact on church attendance when we announce our special guest for a future Sunday. We may not like him but he is definitely an expert when it comes to eternal damnation and fire starting.”

Despite the magnitude of the gesture there has been no word as yet from the Creator. Sources nearby say all were taken by surprise and need a little time to create a proper response. Whether or not burying the hatchet with Lucifer will generate a blanket amnesty for all sinners was unclear at press time.

“They (the good angels) talked to the Vatican yesterday as well as to Buddhist, Muslim and Hindu elements. A meeting with various Protestant sects is slated for the weekend,” said Pharisee. “What they will talk about is anyone’s guess but the final agreement must contain an olive leaf so that serious differences can be undressed.”

Significant concerns at press time include what to do with all the estimated millions of pour souls currently in Lucifer’s camp and how to restructure ideologies which have labeled Satan the ultimate bad guy. It was not clear how the powers intend to reclaim hell or rehabilitate less influential skeeziks loyal to Beelzebub.

“He (Satan) has a definite public relations problem with many,” said Pharisee, “and it’s up to him to convince people he is sincere about his salvation. However, due to his incredible wealth he will no doubt be resettled comfortably and ascend as an asset to any congregation.”

Satan, then Lucifer, the right-hand Archangel was thrown out of heaven over a power struggle with the Creator. Sins of pride are said to have been at the root of the disagreement. Although it happened a long time ago, smoldering feelings of resentment and outright distrust are expected to dominate the first discussions between representatives from heaven and hell.

“Right now we’re somewhere between the devil and the deep blue sea on matters of religious dogma,” continued Pharisee. “Can Satan be reinstated? What about the other Archangels who have been loyal all of this time? What about the lesser angels that left with Lucifer so many years ago? Will the Raiders win the AFC West with their benefactor back upstairs?

Theologists all over the planet suggest that a serious power void may now exist with the capitulation of the forces of evil. They ask who will be blamed for the evil in the world now that the devil is walking the line. Who will paint the town red? What about pitchfork sales?

Let’s face it,” quipped Pharisee, “we need a common enemy so as to cement together our holy coalition. Who will step up? Not the Russians, not even the terrorists, but maybe those nasty aliens who have been hovering around, just out of shotgun range, waiting for a breakdown in the earth’s mythological fortitude.”

Pharisee promised that despite the development he would continue to preach fire and brimstone, the literal translation of the Bible and fear coupled with a pinch of guilt.

“We just have to find new evils with which to do battle,” he explained. “That shouldn’t be too hard. They’re everywhere.”

– Kashmir Horseshoe

WILD WESTERN QUIZ

1. How many Western Slopers does it take to dehorn a heifer? a.) One to hold the cow and three to turn the horns. b.) Three. Two to hold the heifer and four to do the math c.) None. A heifer sheds her horns every Fourth of July.

2. Why are Colorado towns so far apart? a.) To keep the sheep out of the corn. b.) To prevent impulse fist fights between entire communities on Friday nights. c.) Compared to what?

3. What do you suppose the Colorado Rockies will do with the millions they made this year? a.) Rebuild Greeley. b.) Buy washed up pitchers. c.) Fill chuckholes on Blake Street.

4.) Why does Colorado lie between the 40th Parallel and 36th Parallel? a.) It’s a hell of a lot better than standing at attention between the 12th Parallel and the 89th Parallel. b.) Because that’s where the ski areas are located c.) So as to prevent an invasion of the Wyoming Bladney fields by New Mexican militias.

5.) If a sign in Ridgway reads: “Montrose – 26 miles” and a sign in Montrose says “Ridgway – 28 miles” where are the missing two miles? a.) At the bottom of Ridgway Reservoir wearing a pair of cement overshoes. b.) Blame it on the Bossa Nova. c.) Due to the oblique, semi-contiguous angle of the Colona Bulge it actually is two miles longer going south.

6.) Why didn’t the Ute Indians have house plants before the white man? a.) They were notorious over-waterers. b.) Macrame hadn’t been invented yet. c.) There are no windows in tipis

7.) How many assault rifles are there on the Western Slope? a.) Counting Sylvestor Stallone movies? b.) None. Don’t you know they’re illegal? c.) What’s it to you! Are you with the ATF?

8.) Why does the San Juan Horseshoe insist on publishing all year long when it is common knowledge that people don’t start as many fires in the winter? a.) They are great fish wrappers. b.) They are great in the litter box. c.) They kill flies and mosquitos on contact.

9.) Who besides you has bothered to read this far along? a.) People who live in glass outhouses. b.) The police. c.) The advertisers. d.) None of the above.

10.) What was the last South Townsend Avenue boot shop to be operated by a Ute Indian? a.) Chief Jack’s Boots and Waders. b.) The Spot. c.) Mighty Moe’s Montrose Moccasin Mecca.

11.) What does the term “dogie” mean to you personally? a.) What? More heifer jokes? b.) A person who can’t handle a butter knife without bloodshed. c.) You mean that one “in the window”.

12.) What is a telemark? a.) A fashionable mole popular in the Roaring Twenties. b.) Someone who’s sucked in by a phone solicitation. c.) A three-winged nut used in the construction of deer fence.

13.) Complete the following: “If you ain’t a cowboy you ain’t ____.” a.) A cowboy b.) A-gonna need the hat. c.) Rooster Cogburn

14.) Who was Dutch Charlie? a.) The bastard of Flemish Charley’s third wife, Victoria. b.) Inventor of the cast iron biscuit. c.) A sultry cross-dressing flag girl on the Ridgway Reservoir project.

15.) Why are there so many real estate offices in Colorado? a.) Because everybody can’t cook. b.) Because everybody can’t bartend. c.) Send for a free brochure.

16.) How did all the hot springs get hot? a.) Geothermal intercourse. b.) What’s the damn difference? c.) Only your hairdresser knows for sure.

-Srs. Bauxite and Balderstern

ANSWERS ON PAGE 27 @BOOK-10BC = ANSWERS TO QUIZ @BOOK-08C = 1.-b, 2-b, 3-c, 4-a, 5-a, 6-c, 7-c, 8-a, 9-b, 10-b, 11-c, 12-b, 13-b, 14-c, 15-b, 16-c. Give yourself 5 points for each correct answer and 4 points for every incorrect answer. Add your number of points and divide by the number of tvs in your home.

CORN POWDER ANGLER with Uncle Pahgre

A lot of folks ask me if I actually do all the things that I write about in my monthly columns. Well, yes and no. There. Now we can get on with the subject at hand — fishin’.

As the old scenario sneaks up on us — if you don’t need a license to be a fish why do you need a license to fish? I recall an expedition a few years back to a special spot called Rainbow Lake. I know some of you pancakes would call it a pond but it’s a full throttle lake to the people around here. At one time it could have been the size of Lake Ontario, prior to all the water thefts, diversions and dams.

Me and my little fishin buddy Jimmy headed up the dusty road to Rainbow, which is located on the fringe of the West Elk Wilderness in Gunnison County. Gunnison is the largest county in Colorado and holds the distinction of having the highest per capita rate of college grads and bank thermometers in the Rockies.

As we chug up the washboard artery I think about the cold beer shakin around in the back of the pickup. I drift off to snoozerville dreaming of the Andalusian girls frolicking on the white sands of Zanzibar — I recently picked up a James Joyce novel hearing that it was deemed obscene by some religious zealot — I have to read every page three times just to keep the literary lid in place.

Jimmy doesn’t read too well. He’s a classic example of why first cousins shouldn’t date, even if they like each other a lot. But Jimmy is one hell of a fisherman. He’ll stay out in a ponga boat for the better part of the day chasin’ down one Mackinaw. He also likes to cheat and break an occasional law in the process. He says it’s fun. We call him The Trout Whistler but I don’t know why.

When we arrive at the shore of Rainbow it becomes apparent that others have been here this morning. They’ve run off the fish and left cigarette butts along the rocky beach. We pick them all up expressing the sincere wish that the perpetrators all burn in hell for their indiscretion. They ought to have their fishing licenses pulled.

I ask Jimmy if he brought his license. He shows me an old elk tag from 1984. I tell him “Good.” I still have my license from last year. We put the boat in the water taking care to include three hunting rifles and some water-logged grenades I snuck out of the Dominican Republic while down there saving the population from Communism in the Sixties.

I also carry a beer cooler, two slickers, some Safeway chicken, my pipe, the Joyce novel, a filet knife, and a copy of the new Horseshoe for wrapping our catch. I also bring along two fistfuls of sweet corn and three sticks of dynamite. Jimmy’s got the oars and a coffee can full of worms he’s been raisin’ in his bedroom since Christmas.

Our first move is to be quiet. We’re already dealing with some mighty uptight trout. Jimmy starts chummin with the chicken and I prepare the dynamite for its virgin voyage. Fish are jumpin and the cotton is high!

We save the corn in case the fish stick their noses up at the poultry, which is often too greasy for their sensitive systems. Almost immediately we get some action on the chicken as several brookies emerge then dive off with their treasure. We drop four lines loaded with worms and throw out one fist of sweet corn. They hit it hard but still no bites.

The experienced angler knows that timing is everything when it comes to fillin’ the fryin pan. I toss one stick of dynamite and it goes off with a boom. Three trout are floating. I throw the other stick to the starboard side and harvest about six more. We in tall cotton now.

Jimmy starts netting the fish and wrapping them up in the newspaper as I open my first beer of the afternoon. As I suck down that inaugural Labatts perusing a fascinating story about the perils of tofu kareoke,  I notice a cloud of dust comin up the trail. It’s the ranger!

We’ve only minutes till he arrives on shore. We think: What is the most illegal activity going on in the boat? The rifles? The grenades? My pipe? At least the dynamite and chicken are long gone. He waves at us to come in to the shore where he is now joined by an assortment of nosy college kid greenies ripe for a bust. I reassure Jimmy who fingers my filet knife nervously. We’re legal in a sort of homey/frontier sense. We’ve got licenses but the boat is registered in Utah.

The warden asks us if we heard a loud blast. We say “Nope.” He asks about the rifles. We say we heard there were a lot of bear around. He asks about the fish. We tell him they attacked out fried chicken and we had to fight them off with our oars. He calls on his radio, handcuffs us (right there in front of those goodie two-shoe greenie bastards) and hauls us to Gunnison jail. Communists.

The authorities charge Jimmy and I with a whole barrel of offenses (federal, state and local) and confiscate most of our gear. We spent that night in jail and the food wasn’t bad. The cops seemed disappointed that we weren’t hardened criminals but were nice to us anyway.

And at the present we’re still waiting for a court date. There’s no sense to go out and look for work what with out legal entanglements and all. I guess we’ll just go fishing again. Maybe this time without the boat. I wonder if they sell silencers for dynamite down at the hardware store.

Psyched Out with Doctor Edwin Whom, Phd.

Regional Hatred Healthy

Although it gets a lot of bad press, regional hostility can be quite productive. For one thing it defines a common enemy and allows for families and villages to pull together without a lot of petty bickering among the leaders and a lot of distrust of approved neighbors on a daily basis. A tranquil village is a happy village and all without therapeutic drugs.

Regional hatred also promotes the creation of many functional cells of ex-patriots in places like Paris and New York. Without bigotry and anger many of these people might be stuck in their crummy villages without the slightest chance to see the world. It is in this way that the defeated culture can export its thoughts and philosophies while keeping the lid on things back home.

Perhaps the most important advantage to be gained from the ethnic and racial hatred is in the field of culinary art. Clannish and ethnic elitism is partly responsible for most of the regional cuisines in a place like China, for instance. How do you think the distinction between Hunan and Szechwan came about? What about northern and southern Italian food or Equatorial and South Chicago Soul Food?

This is not to imply that ethnic hostilities always result in better groceries. Despite all the problems they have created over the years the British, somehow, were not blessed with a cuisines of their own, so they stole from the Irish.

Another benefit of regional hatred comes in the form of a boon to the flag business. The more different warring factions in the field the more flags are sold. Some 13,000 flags in

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