All Entries in the "Featured Peeks" Category

FRUITCAKE TARDY, PAPER APOLOGIZES

(Ouray) The saga of the missing fruitcake goes on. It’s December and it’s still not here. Earlier today The San Juan Horseshoe made a formal apology to a hungry clientele anxiously awaiting the arrival of their sweet holiday delectables.

     According to food editors, the shipment was misplaced somewhere between the cities of Istanbul and Athens, an area frequented by free lance highwaymen but not Islamic terrorists as was first feared.

     “That was back in November,” said Melvin Toole, coordinator of the massive fruitcake landings. “We’re tired of answers, we want excuses!”

     All told the fruitcake cargo, clearly marked with large block letters spelling out USA, weighs in at about 112 tons and had originally been shipped from Damascus on November 20. After a scheduled stopover in Cyprus, where it soaked in rum for three days due to Muslim laws against the use of spirits, it crossed a slight stretch of the Mediterranean Sea landing on the Turkish mainland at Anamur. From that spot the fruitcake joined a colossal caravan and headed overland arriving in Istanbul in late November.

     “How could we lose that much of anything?” whined Toole. “The cargo was larger than many of the Greek Islands. At the present we are not discounting any possibility, including sabotage.”

     Toole has been reminded that his banter might be offensive to the millions of Arabs that currently surround him in Turkey. He has softened his approach since that time, extending a pathetic plea for the safe return of the fruitcake.

     “There are countless little children in the Free World awaiting the arrival of the heavy, spiced cake containing nuts and candied/dried fruit,” spouted Toole. “The hateful men who interrupted the shipment are nothing more than naughty.”

     A response within the Syrian embassy here suggests that little children do not generally like fruitcake especially since someone once suggested that the treat may be good for them.

     “Our operatives in the Mid East have no knowledge of the whereabouts of the cargo,” said diplomatic spokesperson Mohammed Tululah, of the Damascus Tululahs. “Maybe those horrible Kurds are building houses with the stuff!”

     Unreliable sources in Greece say the shipment was most likely high-jacked near Gallipoli and taken to Bulgaria for distribution through the black market. Eyewitnesses say they observed long trains of camels, mules and llamas crossing the Greek frontier last week but thought nothing of it until the fruitcake cargo pulled up lame.

     Toole, who has curbed his demands for a legendary Ninth Crusade “to free Asia Minor from the infidels”, told reporters Friday that unless the situation is resolved soon it could lead to all-out war by the new year.

     Back in Colorado the Horseshoe staff continues to pace up and down the darkroom floor, obsessed with the missing fruitcake. On the heels of this frustration critics within the industry are accusing the paper of making the whole thing up to gain positive publicity.

     “Publicity my eye,” quipped Toole. “We’re making it up to fill space. After 50 years of Santa, elves and reindeer you try to write yet another Christmas issue.”

     For the past two decades the paper has presented more than 20,000 families with the often unwanted confection over the Yuletide.

     “If the fruitcake is not rescued soon we will be forced to begin phase two of our Christmas plan…the distribution of 400,000 cases of canned yams. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he frowned.

– Bastardo Vehemente

RATING THE HOLIDAY MUSTARDS

For decades good mustard has been synonymous with the holidays. In keeping with the desire to present pertinent feature material, crossed with slow news days, the Horseshoe has spent hours and dollars in an attempt to concoct a roster of functional mustards for glazes, sandwiches and salads. One for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas. How nice. Save this handy article to go with the Rating the Ketchups in our January issue. Warning: Mustards are meant to be enjoyed with a variety of foods and this article in no way condones substance abuse by the spoonful. Mustard plasters are covered in our Medicine on the March page later in this issue.

1. Plochman’s Premium – A delightful blend of whatever they’ve put in the jar. Low in chemicals yet lacking in fiber. Mildly exotic texture. Dances in your mouth. Direct from the Mosel-Saar-Ruwar region near Milwaukee. The finest sipping mustard in the world, in our opinion. Open the lid and let it breathe. May have low cholesterol too. Not suggested for use with other stimulants.

2. Maille Dijon – Light, chilly, not too serious with a special zest that cries out from inside the refrigerator. Great quaffing blend of complexity and spirit. Who told you that all the great mustards come from France? Best with sausage, onions and kraut, or for a special surprise pour over vanilla ice cream. Comes in glass jar and convenient spray dispenser.

3. Sierra Nevada – A young mustard. Exhibits enough character to serve with food or enough charm simply to drink on its own. Very flinty, often nosy. Slightly fizzy. Zesty herb, kimono or mesquite are just a few of the flavors available. Suited for higher altitudes. Freeze-dried for an end to soggy bread. Promotes regularity.

4. Westbrae Natural – Crisp, citrusy, somewhat earthy. Great with Portuguese foods. We like to take a jar out mushroom hunting in the summer or as part of our winter survival kit (not recommended for goat skins). Delicious with poached salmon or elk. Clears stuffy noses, sneezing and itchy eyes. Prescription only. Ask your doctor.

5. Grey Poupon – The overrated classic holds its own in this lineup. Eat it and you’ll feel rich? What does mustard choice have to do with net worth? An asset on any table. Goes especially nice with either the Louis XII or an orange crate. Makes tantalizing sauce on pet foods too. Visit web site at www.squirt.com. Dig trendy? This is the spread for you

6. Mady’s Old Tyme – The Pinot Gris of mustards. Perfect with goat cheese, black olives, pesto, walnuts and lemon wedges. Relish its ripeness with a touch of curry. Gives a lift to dips! Earn bonus miles with purchase. (See label inside jar). Popular with tattoo artists and wallpaper designers. Rare cases of overeating result in tooth discoloration and slight fever.

7. New Organics – Made from volcanic debris with a splash of white Riesling. Fruity and fresh, yet dry. Perfect with seafood, especially if it’s turned just a bit. Big enough to stand up to saltier dishes like squid and octopus. Mustard greens are not fed hormones during growth. Reminiscent of the ball park with just a touch of grapefruit and tart green apples thrown in.

8. McCaffrey’s – He can catch a pass but will the mustard hold up under the blitz? Why do wealthy athletes feel the need to diversify and increase their profits on products as unlikely as mustard? Maybe it resulted from a test marketing case at Stanford. Blue collar mustard. An over achiever to be sure. Great hands.

9. Beaver– Direct from Oregon, the mustard capital of North America (and they don’t use the stuff much in Mexico). Great with grilled vegetables or hamburgers. Doused with virgin olive oil for those steamy winter nights! Recommended by Martha Stewart or someone who looks like her. Rustic. Makes a thoughtful stocking stuffer throughout the year!

10. Mister Mustard – Try some with Jello or Waldorf Salad. Even though you’re probably a bit skeptical spread it on sheets and pillow cases for a midwinter night’s dream. Antibacterial. Kills viruses, bacteria, mold and mildew on cheap hot dogs. Eliminates odors. Turns even paper products and discarded dairy cartons into a hearty meal. Yellow or brown to match your outfit.

11. French’s – Even the label reads like a corporate memo. If you like brand names and the mundane pick up a jar of this stuff. It tastes like all of the rest of the foods mass produced under this recognizable name. We suggest the complete avoidance of yellow mustard anyway. A drop of industrial glue in the recipe holds sandwiches together for an eternity.

12. Kraft – Owned by tobacco company and tastes like it. Bargain basement experience at just about the same prices as the more erotic types. Have you tried the separately wrapped cheese product slices? How about the cardboard macaroni and cheese? Thanks to abundance of chemicals this stuff will last for up to three years in the cupboard or chilled in the ice box.

– Uncle Pahgre

Turkeys Off Radar

(El Lay) The nation’s turkey population appears to have retreated underground, joining remnants of elk and several hundred defiant mini-Snickers candy bars. These last two groups remain in hiding even though these dangerous fall seasons have concluded.

Hunting season and Halloween, while popular with humans is often stressful and detrimental for herd creatures and chocolate coated victims. Thanksgiving, one dimensional and aimed right smack at foolish birds with a few hams thrown in, is clearly genocide according to poultry rights groups here.

Meanwhile Tom Avenue is empty, and generally off the grid while the often-vibrant turkey lounges on Giblet Alley are now dark and quiet.

Local liberals, guilty over the treatment of all three groups have attempted to coax the candy bars and elk from their redoubts but with limited success.

On a high note, Hibernation 2025 has been heralded a “breakthrough success” by the local chamber of commerce and several church groups. The popular autumn exercise has been a successful tribute to natural state of affairs in the anomal kingdom since before the cows came home.

“Despite unforgiving acoustics in most of your larger cave complexes the practice gains participants year after year,” said Ed Bare of the Colorado Wildlife Coalition.

-Fred Zeppelin

STATE TO JERKY FALL COLORS

(Denver) In an attempt to stretch the dramatic fall colors far into November state officials have implemented a plan to jerky aspen, oak and cottonwood trees still in their splendid state. Already teams of botanists have been busy in an attempt to isolate and expedite the most effective formula for the approved extension.

     “First we’ll focus on the aspens since they are far and above the most popular with autumn tourists,” said Melvin Toole who holds a third degree in Popular Venison Culture from Cal Amari. “The oak and cottonwood are far less fragile and we think we can jerky them later in the month and still come up with a hardy supply that may last through Thanksgiving.”

     The process of jerking the fall colors involves a lengthy drying process that has been proven to extend the life of other entities such as wild game and the terms of Congressmen. Aspen leaves in particular conform to the rigid properties necessary for the current jerk thinking.

     “We have experimented with canning and applied freezing since the Sixties,” says Toole. “What’s important is to harvest the chosen leaves and introduce them to our methods before the natural process takes hold. Rest assured that we have gone to great lengths to protect the birds and fury little animals who call the trees their homes. They have until tomorrow to evacuate.”

     Even though leaves and most bark samples are void of nutrition many desperate people tend to eat them come February or March when other supplies have been exhausted. Unlike leaves from tree farms, where an assortment of fertilizer and additives are employed, these wild trees offer supplement-free leaves, roots and bark.

     “Many mammals enjoy a diet comprised of mountain vegetation throughout the winter. We plan to test the jerky on herd animals, state prisoners and even fish before the snow falls,” said Toole. “We’ve already turned the bear on to the spicier blends and they liked it…of course they enjoy maggots as a tasty entre.”

     Residents and visitors are asked to stay clear of jerky operations until the end of the month when the Department of the Interior will join state agencies in presenting an open house to further explain their priorities. For a map of the more concentrated jerky operations contact the gov’ment agency of your choice.

– Small Mouth Bess

Plan to deport illegal Neanderthals halted

A clandestine scheme to deport Neanderthals has been temporarily halted since the large pre-humans are too big. The group, seen as a threat to the harmony of the United States by anti-evolution brigades, had been scheduled to be flown to equatorial Africa on Tuesday.

“We can’t fit them onto the planes or buses,” said one overwhelmed ICE official. 

It’s all part of a plan to rid the country of disloyal citizens according to sources close to Papa “Taco” Don, a shadowy mafia figure who has somehow grabbed the reigns of sanity. White House wailers and weepers (a growing population) accused the current underworld of targeting anyone not in line with the Judeo-Christian evolution doctrine that the world was created in 7 days.

A disturbing result, common to the arrogant incompetence of The Gelded Age has been the mass deportation of Denisovans to Canada without proper winter attire.

Last night three Neanderthals beat up their jailers and escaped to Wyoming, which does not have an extradition treaty with U.S. Somebody in the Trump Administration didn’t do his homework. AI- Arrogant Incompetence? Maybe Denisovans will like Canada. Racial gerrymandering isn’t it?

Hey, don’t fret. It’s just part of the induced Gelded Age where no one has the cojones to stand up for what is right — while sipping the kool-aid of ignorance and racism.

Socio-Economic Funnies #611:

It’s early autumn. Why are our local utility companies stockpiling firewood?

COLOROW’S GHOST RETURNS

Part II Act I

Reader Synopsis: As our stargazing heroine, Salli Radar, beds down for the night in solidarity with her marmot flock an unexpected visitor barges into her makeshift camp. It is the ghost of Ute Chief, Colorow. Has he come to share with Salli the secrets of immortality or does he just want a hot meal? Everyone knows how tough it is to get a solid meal while on cruise control at six feet under but the chief could have waited for an invitation before jumping on an unsuspecting pot of beans. Either way we pick up the action as Salli sits back and watches Colorow consume a large portion of her leftovers, provisions that were earmarked for her ravaged snapdragon crop.

     Colorow ate and ate. Salli had never seen anyone actually inhale beans before. The desperate consumption, however intense, did not interfere with Chief Colorow’s epistle which he sprayed out to the four corners of the world with his compliments.

     “Good beans,” said the chief.

     “Thanks,” purred Salli, the kind of woman who experienced a great deal of pleasure watching a man eat his dinner.

     Finishing his meal Chief Colorow then gazed up into the sky as if waiting for someone’s supernatural approval before continuing his incantation. He began to chant, then passed gas, then looked Salli squarely between the eyes.

     “I am Chief Colorow of the Ute Nation. I have returned to the scene of the crime to witness white culture run amuck. You have paved the earth and put up lodges built of cardboard and glass. You have broken the spirit of the land so that she is no longer your confidant. Even the animals in the mountains plot against you!”

     “Whoa,” thought Salli. “This guy’s one of those radical tree-huggers or something. Why do I always get hooked up with the crazy ones? Sometimes I wish I was back at the Pahrump Bowl with my darling Mango. He wasn’t real bright but he was mine. Besides, I never really liked fat guys and Mango was built like a starving candlestick.”

     Salli spoke to the chief in conjunction with the soft undertones and gentle breezes of the Western Colorado night.

     “Tell me great chief, what can I expect in the hereafter? Is there such a thing as infinite bliss? Are we reunited with ancestors and loved ones? How’s the food in up in heaven? Are there weigh loss clinics for chubby ghosts?”

     “Those your horses?” asked the chief, choosing not to respond to Salli’s inquiries but rather drifting off into a semi-trance followed by another round of the specter’s allegorical confabulation.

     “I have returned to the scene of the crime not for revenge as that wheel is already in motion,” said Colorow. “I have returned rather to lift the Ute Curse from these valleys and canyons. By doing this I seek to create an environment where free men can take hold of their destiny. They must run the scalawags and carpetbaggers out of this sacred land before they destroy it for all future generations.”

     Salli sat dumbfounded as the chief ranted and raved about men who would sell their soul for gold and still want more.

     “This guy is really out there, she thought to herself. He reminds me of my grandfather when he’d get into the chokeberry brandy and recall the bloody details of the range wars fought against the sheepmen.”

     Salli would sit mesmerized on her grandfather’s mangled knee since there were no other chairs in the cabin and the floor was so cold at night. The knee had met its match in 1889 during a particularly curious binge over in Leadville. It was never clear why George Radar wanted to jump from the brothel’s mahogany bar into a tiny glass of brandy in booth three but one thing was for sure: Once he set his mind to doing something he was going to do it, that is unless he passed out first.

     Salli looked at Colorow who sat cross-legged, contentedly contemplating his loincloth.

     “I must have horses to hunt the buffalo,” he uttered in a groan. “The elders are counting on me to bring home meat for the winter. My horses are all gone. What is a warrior without his mount! Young woman, you must act as my agent! The buffalo are passing through my realm and the old ones are hungry.”

     What could she do. This guy sounded desperate. Salli had always fallen for pathetic, dysfunctional male types and she could feel the emotional merry-go-round beginning to churn, only this time she was falling for a fat, horseless ghost who was probably a slob as well, and prone to unannounced fits of hysteria.

     “I know where we can get you a horse but we must be quiet.” whispered Salli sliding closer to Chief Colorow who retreated to the other side of the fire. Do you have a color preference? I think white is nice, before six but maybe something in a palomino or a paint just so long as it doesn’t clash with your war bonnet…”

     It was at that moment that Salli experienced the finest of hallucinations as she looked up and saw Colorow perched atop a massive black stallion, his lance by his side. He skipped across the sky and was gone, presumably in pursuit of the illusive buffalo. Although he hollered no adieu Salli knew he would return to continue his quest.

     “This is too much,” sighed Salli, “but I’d better catch a little sleep while he’s out. Tomorrow’s another day and my snapdragons need a little attention.”

– Sterling Bidet and Gabby Haze