All Entries in the "Featured Peeks" Category

WORLD WAR I STARTED ON POOL TABLE

(Strasbourg) Some historians blame all the shooting on the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand by Serbs in Sarajevo. Others point to the Zabern Affair in the Alsace-Lorraine, which infuriated hawks in both France and Germany. Still other social scientists insist that the massacre began due to a longtime feud between royal cousins with massive armies at their disposal. This is all poppycock. World War I was ignited by a simple game of pool.

Although little has been written and even less documented with regards to this fascinating theory, this shall in no way detour us in our quest for the final truth. What we have already found out might put the more stodgy of historians into a tizzy, or worse.

Our flight to Stuttgart was uneventful and the entire entourage felt lightheaded as we deplaned amid yet another month-long harvest festival. We drove to the French frontier, stopping once to check metric tire pressure and once to freshen up.

According to locals interviewed in the German village of Lahr, in the Black Forest, the leaders of nine European countries met here in secret in January of 1914 in an attempt to iron out difficulties and avert a mortal conflict. While most of our sources are only descendants of actual eyewitnesses, they seemed honest enough and we decided to take their recollections to the bank.

After a week of cross examination we found that villagers from Rastatt to Schaffhausen were in agreement as to how that meeting went down. Most have claimed to have at least a shirt-tail relative in attendance at that Strasbourg pool hall on the night in question.

Anyway, it appears that Lloyd George arrived first, ordered a Watneys and sat in the corner, that, being the British thing to do. He was fortuitously joined by Hungarian Premier Count Tisza, who brought along his own cue stick. Soon Prussian boss Otto von Bismark, Austrian Premier Count Carl Sturgkh, Chief-of-Staff Paul von Hindenburg and King Constantine of Greece made their way through the door. Then Bismark bought a round for the house, much to the enjoyment of the curious assemblage.

Georges Clemenceau and Henri Petain were next to show up, fashionably late, yet somewhat miffed that they had missed a rare round purchased by the frugal German clique. Then, with a flair that only the Russian could  muster, Czar Nicholas emerged from his royal Cossack coach, driven by miniature horses and a host of gelded Bolsheviks, captured outside the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg over the holidays. Accompanying him was his wife, Alexandra, who quickly grew bored with the mileau and beat feet for Lahr’s strip of trendy boutiques in search of cuckoo clocks and bittersweet German chocolates.

Soon everyone was seated with the noted exception of President Woodrow “League of Nations” Wilson and his military attache, General John “Black Jack” Pershing. Somehow, during the delay Count Tisza challenged Bismark to a friendly game of pool, which he won handily, running the table before the proud Bismark could even choose a stick. Bismark frowned and sat down, furious at his predicament. Several other players entered the foray at this juncture with Lloyd George soundly whipping Georges Clemenceau and Czar Nicholas destroying a brave eleventh hour bid by King Constantine.

Then, just as the tardy Americans passed through the back door something snapped. Bismark, still peeved over his loss to the Hungarian, claimed that he had put a quarter up on the table immediately following his defeat. Petain insisted that it was his quarter and told Bismark to sit back down and drink his beer. His tone was confrontational at best and Bismark blew up. He charged the smaller Frenchman, punching him about the head and torso. It took three men to pull the two apart.

The Americans, who most locals feel precipitated the fracas by their less than prompt advent, attempted to negotiate a peace but it was not meant to be.

Bismark called Tisza “an upstart, a roturier, a gypsy!” Tisza responded by accusing Bismark of “grandstanding” and added that his King Charles Spaniel was “grossly overweight, even fat!” This brought a chorus of laughter from the French and British contingents who were now ordering Long Island Ice Teas by the pitcher and spoiling for a fight. It appears that it was at this point that the alliances surfaced which would ultimately lead to a world war.

Both Bismark and Tisza glared angrily into the Anglo-Franco peanut gallery hanging onto the bar. Harsh words were exchanged for now it appeared that the Prussian and the Hungarian had buried the hatchet and were more offended by the ridicule now heaped upon them than by the bad blood that had only moments before passed between them.

Another swinging match ensued, this time with Czar Nicholas and von Hindenburg jumping in. Before it was ended Lloyd George was blind sided by a Hupmobile tire iron and most of the decorative glass in the place was shattered. Count Sturgkh suffered a slight concussion after a collision with a brass serving tray while Petain lost a tooth and retreated, as would become his mode of operation, into the nearest broom closet to await the outcome.

The police arrived at about ten and arrested everyone who had the bad judgment to remain on the scene. Most were subsequently bailed out of Lahr Municipal Jail by Alexandra, who had only recently returned from her shopping trip. The combatants were then told to get out of town on the next train. Damages were paid by President Wilson, setting a dangerous precedent which would not be fully understood until the end of the century.

Meanwhile, for most of the civilized world this sad episode dictated what was to come in Europe as the leaders of the world’s greatest nations chose to sacrifice millions of lives rather than swallow their pride over a simple game of pool.

Local Border Collie Bound for Cambridge

Rusty moments after accepting the
Campbell Scholarship in Cork Friday

(Ridgway) A very intelligent border collie named Rusty has been awarded the prestigious (Leonard) Campbell Fellowship for study at Cambridge University near London. The grant/scholarship pays for every facet of the canine’s education including housing, food and materials with a monthly stipend of $600 for travel on the European continent. He is also recipient of the Phi Dog Phi Award for academic excellence and the Pavlov Prize for athleticism.

Rusty’s field of study/expertise will be Psycho-Primal Anthropology with emphasis on The Human Food Chain.

Although exhibiting some mixed feelings about leaving his fine life on the Haywire Ranch at Cow Creek, Rusty has accepted the offer to study abroad. He will finish the curriculum in three years and spend summers in Colorado. Upon graduation his options most likely run from a professorship to clinical research to herding livestock.

“He’s smarter than anyone in our family,” said Jed Pinwheel, Rusty’s sponsor and father figure. “That dog new how to count all of the chickens before and after they hatched. His hunger for knowledge put him paws and tails above the rest of the cow dogs around here. He was focused. That boy was always focused.”

Rusty, a eunuch in his own right, is not the first four-legged creature to attend Cambridge. A common British house cat, named Criseyde, with an IQ off the charts studied here in the 60s only to withdraw from classes due to an unexpected pregnancy. She currently lives in Cleveland.

Meanwhile back at the ranch cowboys scurry to find a replacement for Rusty.

“It will take three dogs to do the work of this guy,” said Colona Slim, a 112-year-old wrangler who’s still in the saddle. “Just as soon as he got them sheep or cows in a circle he’s commence to sticking his nose into a book. Smart sombitch.”

A going away party has been scheduled for Tuesday at Trail Town Distillery. No children please.

Dag Katz

Swimming Hippies Kill Fish At Festival

Special from The New York Times

     Hippies swimming the San Miguel River near Telluride were blamed today for the deaths of over 400 fish in what authorities are calling the strangest case on record. A music festival was in progress on the banks of the river and the festival is cited as a major reason for the hippies’ presence in the area.

     About two hours after the hippies finished bathing in the river fish began to float to the top, certifiably deceased. A group of about fifty hippies id wanted for questioning but none have been located. Although no motive has been discussed police intend to charge the swimming hippies with leaving the scene of a crime.

Ridgway Dam To Provide Water Mains For Valley

RIDGWAY UNDER WATER?

From The Ouray Herald     September 5, 1963

(Montrose) Tri-County Water Conservancy District Directors at a meeting last week gave final approval for the inclusion of 15,000 acre feet of storage for a domestic water supply in the proposed Dallas Creek Project at Ridgway.

According to local engineering firms this amount of storage will provide ample domestic water for rural, suburban and municipal use for the Uncompahgre Valley from the dam, just northeast of the flooded town of Ridgway, to the junction of the Gunnison River near Delta.

This includes the town of Olathe and the cities of Montrose and Delta, at their discretion, and provides for future growth and expansion of the entire area. A direct benefit of the proposed system would be the available resource of domestic water at a very economical rate.

The dam is currently under feasibility study by the Bureau of Land Reclamation. That study is scheduled to be completed by December.

The multi-purpose project wood provide storage for flood control, recreation, fishery, water quality control, municipal water and water for irrigation.

“Sometimes we have to flood a town or two yielding to the onward march of progress,” said a Tri-County spokesman.

Meanwhile residents of Ridgway watch and wait as the river is expected to rise any time now. Most have stopped mowing their lawns and painting their house opting to spend free time building arks.

NO ROOM LEFT TO FIGHT TRADITIONAL CIVIL WAR

(Richmond VA) Historians have been predicting another civil war in this country since half past Appomattox Court House. Yankee academians save their projections for smoky rooms and snifter back parlors. Wide-eyed rebel saga sharers in Dixie lead with the idea of a third American Revolution. This time they come out on top.

While impulsive reenactments boom off tediously thin walls on both sides of the former Mason-Dixon Line, students of the conflict in classrooms and coffee shops, are faced with a stark impediment to resuming the war. Space.

Before we could pick up our muskets and resume canon fire we would have to figure out how to assemble a force the size of the Army of Northern Virginia or The Army of the Potomac anywhere east of the Mississippi. Sure, the battlefields have been preserved as National Parks but the surrounding area has become the resting place for exploding populations, fast food chains, textile mills and suburbs.

“Lee could not have placed his entire army in the field at Chancellorsville,” said Dr. Orem Welldigger, a fellow at Virginia Military Institute. He had 60,000 up against Hooker, the Union general with a noted tolerance for camp followers. Hooker himself had 120,000 troops,” he said. “There is no physical possibility of all of these soldiers fitting into what’s left of the countryside.”

Professor Walter Burnside, of the State University of New York at Plattsburgh agreed, pointing to a newly erected mall near the battle of Chickamauga. At that site in September of 1863 the Confederates won a victory and trapped the Union troops in Chattanooga.

Burnside, claiming direct descent from General Ambrose Burnside, who orchestrated the hopeless attack and suffered a subsequent defeat at Fredericksburg, says the South would not have defended today’s town quite so vehemently.

“The Fredericksburg of today still sits on the Rappahannock which is but a dribble to its past glory. Everywhere interstate highways and franchised food joints zig zag across the landscape,” he said. “Too many people and no vacant land to stage an epic confrontation. At Chickamauga there’s a few tourist shops hosting visitors who think they’re in Civil War Disneyland.”

Arthur Grits, a self-taught enthusiast of the War Between the States suggests that the next conflict could be fought in Nevada, Utah or Northern Arizona…maybe even Canada.

“I just drove through the Great Basin and believe you me there’s nobody out there,” he smiled. “Maybe it’s because there aren’t any bathrooms but I think the reason is actually the lack of water. Imagine if you will Union troops taking the high positions adjacent to nuclear waste dumps while the Confederates charge through the sagebrush and the piñon trees. Now that place has the room to house all the armies since the French and Indian War. Canada has space as well,” he added, but barefoot Rebel troops would be hard pressed to put up much of a fight during the winter months.”

Unfortunately for Civil War purists the Western solution just won’t do. Would the new battle of the Wilderness be fought on the shores of Lake Powell. Would Sherman burn Las Vegas? How could Confederate troops dig trenches in the caliche of the Great Salt Lake Desert?

Travelers chronicling the engagements of the Civil War often discover poorly marked Union and Confederate graveyards dominated by burger outlets, and cannonballs lodged in ancient trees cut down to make room for football stadiums, factory outlets or convention centers.

“It’s that damn Yankee arrogance that has resulted in the rape of Southern culture,” says Welldigger, who refers to the recent sprawl as “the second Yankee invasion of the South”.

“Not only did the Northerners move right in to our better neighborhoods, but they brought with them all of the trappings of federalism including welfare, television, low wage industry and pollution. The Spanish moss, the cotton fields and the magnolia trees are fighting for their lives.”

Burnside disagrees saying that many of the corporate entities slammed by Welldigger had origins in the South.

Look at the biggest cultural disaster, Wal-Mart,” he chided. “That blight began in Arkansas. Look at Colonel Sanders. Does he appear to have abolitionist tendencies? Then there’s the Black-Eyed Pea and Popeye’s.”

Maybe simple physics will deny us the chance to settle unfinished business here in North America. Maybe that’s why we can’t keep our nose out of the Mideast. Is it all that barren land?

“If Pierre G.T. Beauregard fired on Fort Sumter today he’d risk hitting three franchise pizza parlors, an IRS office, two malls, a ring of interstate highways, the corporate headquarters of Mr. Doughnut and some poorly constructed town houses along Charleston Harbor. His politically incorrect behavior might net him a summons for discharging a weapon within city limits and would certainly hurl him into a legion of lawsuits.”

Grits agrees adding that for now sworn enemies will just have to settle for fighting scrimmages in their living rooms and unfurl their blood-letting charges within the confines of video games.

“Just remember,” said Grits, “that just because our cadaverous campaigns are constipated by space restrictions there’s no stumbling block when it comes to blaming each other for the current state of affairs in this nation. – Kashmir Horseshoe

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.”