All Entries in the "Featured Peeks" Category
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
My Night on Camp Bird Road
It was a dark and stormy night or maybe it was the perfect summer evening. I really don’t remember. All I know is that I was hungry, that being redundant since I am a healthy, five-year-old, 350-pound black bear. The heavy rains have netted lots of berries but how many berries does it take to fill the stomach of a bear as big as me? Every so often I need something more substantial, something that sticks to the ribs, as they say. And besides, a fellow has to have a social life—I’m headed to town.
I was soon in Ouray and expecting something special.
Wait, there’s a cabin at the end of this aspen grove and no light on. I wonder if anyone’s home? I wonder if the door is locked? It doesn’t matter since I am a bear and doors mean very little, even though we bruins know full well how to open them. Maybe I should break through a window and check out the provisions. It could be trouble but no one’s around and I am big and hairy.
I approach from the wooded side of the cabin and get up on my hind legs to have a sniff around. Boy, someone should firm up this porch. It barely holds my weight. I peek into the kitchen and notice that the furniture looks rough. The couch looks like second-hand but I don’t plan to take a nap. I plan to eat! These humans could really use a decorator.
If I exert just the right amount of pressure on the glass it will give in. A light push…There…with a little crash I’m inside.
Now to the important part without further delay. I wonder what kind of grub these absent humans have stashed in the cupboards. The fools always leave something around in case of a big snow. Sometimes it’s canned beans or oatmeal. Sometimes it’s smoked salmon and jars of frozen berries. You just never know till you tear off a cupboard door. Dispensing with formalities, pardon me as I I tear off the cupboard door. Oh. Cheerios! I love Cheerios. The only thing better than cheerios is Sugar Crisps. They always have a bear cub on the front of the package.
Now where have they hidden the honey? These kind of humans always have honey around in one of those plastic bear jars for some reason that escapes me. They should have plastic bee jars. The jars are always real sticky and it’s hard to get the lid off without any thumbs on my paw. Here it is in a small cereal bowl. Real easy to eat. Now I have a feast and there are some grapes in the refrigerator too. I think I’ll go back out on the porch and chow down. Ahhhhh….
Moments after eating I hear a rustling in the bushes. What? It’s one of those humans with a cooking pot and spoon in her hand. Now she’s banging the pot with the spoon. What’s she trying to do? Wake up the whole neighborhood? If she thinks I’m going to run off because she’s banging around, she’s nuts.
Now she’s staring at me. Doesn’t she know how dangerous it can be to make eye contact with a bear. And why isn’t she wearing bells? Didn’t she read the little books that the rangers give out at the cute little campsites?
I stand and give her my best growl. Usually this works. Now she’s gone into the house. Maybe there are a few more boxes of cereal inside. I crawl back through the broken window taking care not to scrape myself on the jagged glass. Look, there’s cans of soup but no opener. There’re marshmallows. And what’s this? Coffee? Bears don’t usually like to eat coffee but we eat garbage. I’ll try anything once. Now I hear the human upstairs on the phone talking about me. She’s telling someone on the other end of the line that there is a bear in her kitchen.
In a mater of moments a mob of these funny creatures is at the gate. One has a gun. They all look mad. I hope he’s not stupid enough to fire that thing near the house. Someone could get shot. Apparently he does not realize how dangerous firearms can be in the hands of a human. Now he’s aiming the gun in my direction. He lifts it and fires into the air. I charge without hesitation. I’m a bear, you know.
Despite their sophisticated technology, the humans scatter like roaches at a bonfire. The bluff worked. I knew they weren’t really a threat. I quickly scamper across the yard and into the black timber and up the hill to safety. Maybe I’ll stop and visit Mom. I’ll have to go back another night to finish the rest of the groceries. It’s nice to know they are there.
That was fun.
Feedlot Hobnobbers
Cow #1: Damn this wind. It’s driving me nuts.
Cow #2: Yeah, and our water ration has been cut back
Cow #3: And the hay is too crisp. I can hardly chew it.
Cow #2: And the smell…
Cow #1: I wonder where they’re sending us. All this corn and alfalfa sure is nice but I’m starting to put on a lot of weight.
Cow #2: Yeah, I could use a bit of exercise. We’ll be heading to summer pasture before long to rejoin our moms.
Cow #3: Not to change the subject but I saw the boss man talking to the packing house agent yesterday.
Cow #1: Probably planning a fishing trip. They’re great friends, you know.
Cow #2: How do you know that?
Cow #1: They always go elk hunting together and throw barbecues all summer.
Cow #3: Oh, that’s nice. What do they do with the elk?
Cow #2: They eat it, stupid.
Cow #3: Savages. Why can’t they just eat grass and hay?
Cow #1: Something to do with their digestive systems.
Cow #2: Damn this wind.
Cow #1: Hey, stop complaining. At least we don’t have hoof and mouth.
Cow #2: Not yet anyway. I saw where thousands of cattle in Europe had to be destroyed so as to prevent the spread of mad cow disease.
Cow #1: Probably just a ploy to jack up the price of beef.
Cow #3: It works for the oil companies.
Cow #2: Look, here comes our ride now. How are they going to fit us all in that trailer?
Cow #1: At least it’s not windy.
Cow #2: Well, we might as well get on with it.
Cow #3: Let’s try to get a seat together. Ready?
All cows: Mooooo…
FRONT RANGE CITIES DISCOVER SIMO-FLUSH
(Denver UPS) In an attempt to conserve water, several Front Range cities have begun conducting tests with a new nuclear-driven technology called Sumo-Flush it was disclosed today. The up-till-now secret experiments involve a synchronized flushing of toilets in strategic neighborhoods where residents have volunteered to participate. It is hoped that the simultaneous flushing will cut water usage up to 50 percent since the present plumbing fixtures can only handle so much water at a time. The system is expected to be taxed to capacity.
A schedule for your once-a-day neighborhood flush will be published in the Rocky Mountain Snooze on Sunday. Dubbed Operation Desert Flush by someone over at Fitzsimmons Hospital, the program has had a great deal of success so far, with mounds of paperwork being produced and relatively few structures being damaged. Retired locomotive engineers playing miniature golf on South Colorado Boulevard say that 1-25 appears to have sank about 40 feet, but that it may not be related to the massive flush. When asked what possible affect this sinking may have on the future of the experiments, they said they “didn’t really care.” Road crews will look into it Monday or Tuesday and motorists are asked to find alternate routes to work in the morning.
For you history buffs, the largest coordinated flush ever on the Front Range occurred at Mile High Stadium in Denver on January 5, 1978, during halftime of a play-off match between the then Oakland Raiders and the Denver Broncos. Some 224,980 board feet of water was involved.
-H.L.Menoken
