All Entries in the "Fractured Opinion" Category
PRE-DAWN RAID ON POLE NETS NADA
Feds Trail Sleigh During Historic Trek
(North Pole) A combined alphabet operation by the FBI, CIA, ICE, OSHA, ATF and the FDA has produced little according to a report filed at the Star Wars Defense Center on Ellesmere Island.
According to unreliable sources, when the immense contingent of feds arrived they found the place pretty much deserted.
“It looked like the terrorists had been making toys and the like for some time here,” said Agent Arthur Rambeau, of the FBI. “They thought they were outside the long arm of the law, didn’t they…Ha! Sooner or later they had to know that we’d corner them!”
The pre-dawn raid aimed at trapping elves suspected of harboring dangerous un-American thought, was concocted by nervous elements of the Shadow Government anxious to get the show on the road. It was approved on fairway number seven by the lame duck White House.
“There’s nothing red, white and blue about myths like Santa and the elves. It’s a negative distraction at a time when we seek to return the United States to Cold War status when gas was cheap and people believed in their elected officials,” said Rambeau. Santa has been a thorn in our boots since my grandmother was a boy, he frowned.
Rambeau, who sucks lemons like Mussolini and eats fried potatoes before going into battle just like Napolean did, says there is conclusive proof that Santa is Canadian and that many of his helpers are members of the Communist Party.
Meanwhile the acronymic assault was organized in the Northwest Territories where only polar bears and seals have eyes and ears. It was supported by combined elements of the United States military, which were told they were fighting the war on drugs, although nothing, with the possible exception of walrus fur, thrives up here.
According to the official report, completed moments after initial contact was confirmed, indications were that the primary objective was secure and that a stubborn rear guard of elves was in custody. As it turns out a heavily armed Ms. (Sandra) Claus and a skeleton crew of exhausted elves with slingshots had managed to hold off the feds for about three days before running out of Cuban rum and capitulating.
“The scene here is sketchy what with all the snow,” said the agent. “I can confirm that we have about ten insurgents under lock and key but that we too are out of provisions.”
The date for the raid was based on information that Santa and his elves would not leave the premises until December 24 to make their annual round-the -world jaunt. However, with the increase in population, global warming, airline agendas and the unstable political climate here, the group departed early.
“We knew that Santa was on the hot seat, facing a vote of confidence in the elfin legislature,” said Rambeau. He was probably more secure out of the country than in it. Remember the Orange Wonder’s sudden interest in foreign diplomacy in the wake of the Jeffery Epstein scandal? Damn. We wanted to catch him (Santa) with is knickers down.”
Conjecture has it that Santa has been repeatedly seen in the company of buxom Lulu Boomer, an exotic dancer from Churchill, Manitoba, despite the comforts of holy matrimony. Federal spooks had hoped they could link Santa, a fallen away Canadian, with a promiscuous lifestyle above the Arctic Circle. Locals say Boomer is hot enough to mlelt the icebergs if there still are any.
“Who’s going to allow their kids to sit on the lap of an adulterer, or worse a man who is just a little left of Pyongyang,” asked Rambeau. “We’ve been going through Santa’s trash since earlier this evening and we’ve found letters from little kids in Iraq and Cuba, as well as North Korea. We even found a letter from a kid in Serbia asking for a bicycle…Now what does she intend to do with that? These are rogue nations undeserving of Christmas presents!” he pouted.
“They hate America,” she said, fondling her red tie.
As soon as the situation is in hand here, the FBI and CIA will begin trailing Santa and his reindeer in hopes of cutting them off from illegal destinations like Havana and Baghdad. It is not known if these actions will undermine attempts by the North Pole to adopt U.S. currency by 2027.
– Small Mouth Bess
A ROCKY MOUNTAIN CHRISTMAS
It was another quaint scene of rural Rocky Mountain Americana, long before the beautiful people landed here. A clothesline, heavy with a fresh wash, was stretched from the propped up hood of a black ’54 Chevy to the corner post of the flimsy, rotting front porch. A spotted mutt lay in the mud chewing on an old sneaker as three dirty-faced children ran half-naked through the snow and mud frolicking among the goats and chickens.
Grandma sat glum-faced in an old rocker on the front lawn bundled in a stained blanket. A dip of snuff lay soggy between her lip and gum. Brown spittle drooled down her chin, spotting the bosom of her Goodwill dress.
Mary Jane looked from the kitchen window as she kneaded dough for the Christmas baked goods. She watched as the warm sunshine melted snow from the old barn roof sending its cool droppings into a rancid mound of garbage and rotting deer hides. A mouse scurried from the pantry and into the corner. Mary Jane quickly finished her last slug of Keystone and hurled the empty at the unsuspecting rodent, shattering glass against the stove. The mouse ran back into the pantry, a sprig of parsley clutched fast between its teeth. It’s only parsley, thought Mary Jane. The kids won’t eat it anyhow.
Gus, Mary Jane’s husband, stumbled from the barn. His eyes were red from drink and blinded by the afternoon sun causing him to trip over an old rusty transmission. He fell headlong into the mud and snow cursing bitterly.
On the horizon came a fleet of pickups and vans. Here come the do-gooders, mused Gus. Then he smiled, for in the deep recesses of his foggy memory a thought emerged. Old Melvin Toole was playing Santa at the Grange today. At least he would have someone to drink with after all.
The visitors parked in the rutted road’s ankle deep mud and gathered at the gate. Phony smiles adorned their scrubbed faces. Beneath the holy makeup of a shaky Santa was the smug, devil-may-care Toole. He stepped from his pickup, hoisting a sack of toys over his skinny shoulder. He swallowed the last swig of his drugstore bourbon and tossed the empty bottle into the back of the truck, the melting snow muffling the sound of the breaking atop his jack, other bottles and a huge piece of petrified cottonwood.
“I use that for ballast,” he slurred. But not a creature heard him.
Next the county sheriff marched through the gate dragging a fresh-cut spruce. Behind him was a procession of the righteous carrying boxes of decorations and food.
“Ya got anything to drink in there?” asked Gus whose request was promptly ignored by the pilgrims.
The children, stone-faced and perplexed, stood next to Grandma as she rocked and chewed her cud. Gus lit a Viceroy. In the kitchen Mary Jane opened another beer, looking out of the window in disgust at the procession in her field.
All at once a rusty piece of barbed wire, hidden beneath the snow, caught the shiny patent leather toe of Santa’s boot sending him down the hill, gliding on his red Gore-Tex suit and crashing into Gus. The impact sent both men rolling into the pile of garbage and deer hides, causing a roar of laughter and cheer.
On the back of the pickup a guitar player strummed while a chorus from Al-Anon sang that famous old Buck Owens classic, “Santa Looks A Lot Like Daddy.”
Everyone just stood their in the yard wondering what to do next when it began to snow. In the distance silver peaks glistened like white marble against a powder-blue sky. The green pines shuddered, the sun met the land and once again another Christmas arrived in the glorious Rockies.
– Jose Katu
UNDER THE TREE 2025
One bothersome tradition that cannot be escaped over the holidays is our gift givers guide. We know that many of you are too busy sorting credit card offers, worrying about the economy and watching television to get around to any meaningful shopping for others. That’s why we’ve put together this varied roster of clever, yet functional premiums sure to toast someone’s slippers on Christmas morning. And new in 2002 is San Juan Horseshoe gift insurance which protects the covered receiver from tasteless ties and sweet perfumes. It even contains a clause undressing potential disappointments in the children’s sector as well as worthless knick-knack storage credits for the elderly. Get to shoppin…
WATCHED POT PLANT GROWER/INDUCER – Fits over the face like a view-finder or diving mask. Guaranteed to grow healthy house plants in just hours. Halogen light encourages lightening-fast maturity. Effective on everything from tomato plants to sensitive ivies and herbs. Comes with starter set, reversible lenses, carbon-monoxide film, foul weather gear. Why wait for plants to sprout the old way? (Not suggested for Christmas trees or mistletoe. $159.99 at reasonable florists.
ARAB ALLIES SHOWER CURTAIN – Now it’s there, now it’s not. The transparent, anti-microbial, mildew-resistant vinyl-lined shower curtain protects from leakage and wandering eyes. Many come with simulated maps of Mideast tribal boundaries before European intervention in the 19th Century. Velcro attachments make cleaning a breeze. Simply hose it down. Doubles as a turban or chador in a fashion emergency. Matching prayer rug opens into American or British flag in the event of carpet bombing. $44.95 at Potties-Are-Us and other fine bath boutiques. Be sure to check out the digital toilet paper dispenser display and the revolving chrome toilet seats that few of us will be able to afford to be without this Yuletide.
WALT’S RUBBER GARAGE LINER – Developed by local technician who grew tired of running into the garage with his car. Protects all four walls and insulated the electric door too! Somewhat bulky and difficult to apply without rubber tools and rubber hat. Effective against herd animals, drunks and tax assessors. Factory colors sure to match any garage decor. From the outside it looks like a normal garage but from the inside it resembles a cartoon rubber cave complete with windows and animated fossil fuel exhaust. Go ahead…Close your eyes and floor it. You’ll just bounce off! $129.99 at auto supply outlets. See living display at most local jails.
PEEING CHERUB SET – Perfect gift for the nouveau riche on your list. Decadence with a giggle. Classic pose accented by wrought-iron stand. Hand-cast resin statue beautifully detailed. Constant stream of consciousness from the personalized dangling participle. Brass or wicker with ivory-washed finish. Sorry: Matching weather-resistant bird feeder not available in spring. Discount for more than one. Rarely returned, 100% customer satisfaction assured. Movement sensitive lights, security buzzer, remote control directional flow and tinted water optional. $1099.99 at Clone Depots.
VIAGRA JOGGING SUIT – They’ll just have to see you coming with this trademark limited-edition jogging suit from your friends at Viagra. Soft-Corinthian spandex with logo prominently displayed in at least four places on garment. Give someone a leg up this holiday season with fashion that says virility all over it. Available in Okra, burnt cocoa or fire engine red. As advertised on Tuesday and Wednesday Night Football. $99.99 at athletic clothiers and surviving local pharmacies.
AIRLINE FOOD PROCESSOR/READING LAMP – Perfect for the globe trotter on your lisp. Easy to smuggle past security just to see if you can. Takes all that chemically-packed space food and turns it into an edible survival experience. Simply place unwrapped food items into processor and push button. In moments it kicks out a compact bale or freeze-dried cube that makes an interesting, if not nutritious lunch or dinner. Many experienced high altitude diners use their processor on the ground too since airport food is equally suspicious. Accompanying reading lamp doesn’t work very well but makes a great place to hide miniatures from temperance elements within the attendant population. $35.00 standby.
DEATH OF A SALESMAN PHONE KAZOO/WHISTLE – Everyone must be getting sick and tired of telephone solicitors with flat out amazing offers. Blow them off the line with the patented defense parameter beeping mouth harp. Hits a pitch that only pushy telemarketers can hear. Battery operated and compatible with answering machines so as to blast unwanted callers even when one is not home. Nickel-plated brass, dog hair repellent, easy to store. $31.99 with launcher. Order before December 24 and receive six free Scottish Highland Bagpipe Lessons (a $29 value). Offer good at pontificating merchants only.
MAIL BOX MINE FIELD – Protect yourself and your mail from terrorists this holiday season with the Homeland Security Mail Box Booby Trap Mine Ensemble. Schematic features mining blueprint for up to twenty-five yard circumference. Suited for networking in the neighborhood. Powerful detonator effective with the slightest touch. Combination lock or light sensitive device makes in impenetrable to intruders. Works great on moles, crows and other yard pests. Tests on bear-proof trash cans and child-proof prescription containers pending. $200.00 for expanded explosive selection, fuses and tiny identification camera. Not responsible for damages to rubber garage liners or peeing cherubs.
PATRIOT CELL PHONE – In red, white and blue. Show your support for world domination while you chat away mindlessly with friends and relatives. Ice. Age registered. See-through for technical support maneuvers, caller ID to help round up suspicious citizens who don’t think the right way. Rear-projection device allows for display of U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights on the refrigerator door for those who still read. Vibrator allows for relaxation between calls. Monitoring hookup flashes when device is unplugged. Comes with National Security ID Bow Tie, fog-free blinders and ear plugs, official gov’ment neck weight and neon brain truss which creates up to 20,000 simulated brain impulses per bite. $39.95 per month.
KILLER INSTINCT BRONCO FIELD GOAL TOASTER OVEN – Start a fire under someone this Christmas with the sports appliance that everyone in the press box is talking about. State-of-the-art clock management, conservative quartz elements, choking mechanism prevents burn-out. Heats up great for about 45 minutes then cools off for the fourth quarter. Replaceable quarterbacks complimentary. Perfect for the golf course in January too! Blocks dangerous UV field goals under the lights. $45.99 at sports memorabilia shows nationwide.
COMBINATION TRASH CATAPULT/LITTER BOX FAN/BAGUETTE AIR FRESHENER SYSTEM – It may not be the best gift but it might be the biggest! Let’s start with the trash. Avoid dangerous treks to the garbage quadrant by hurling your debris. Why deal with ice, terrorists and dangerous four-legged predators all winter. Next we discover a handy litter box fan (three speeds) that keeps the odor down even while the cat’s away. If this isn’t strong enough just screw open the top of what looks like a simple loaf of bread and get rid of all other household smells instantly. Warning: Consumers have reported some confusion when using all of these devices simultaneously. Although tragedies are varied no one as yet has been killed. $699.99
TWENTY-THOUSAND LEAGUE BASEBALL MEMORABILIA – Discarded dental floss once used by Reggie Jackson, dirty socks collected from the Milwaukee Brewers’ locker room from 1995-2000 (complete set), a shampoo bottle emptied by a utility infielder who has moved on to the used car business. Too good to be true? Forget the days when players signed autographs for free, and Mantle and Mays roamed the outfield without a financial portfolio. Sod from the Astrodome, Rod Carew’s car seat, paycheck stubs from wrecked Rockies’ starting pitchers, a video rental receipt once thought to be the property to Andres Galaraga. The list goes on. No sports addict can resist! Market price.
THE COMING RETIREMENT ALARM CLOCK AND STAR WARS LAMPSHADE – Is someone on your shopping list about to take the big plunge into official retirement? Buy them the only alarm clock that not only counts the days until release from occupational bondage but also refuses to go off in the morning. Accompanying turntable base nuclear umbrella lampshade adds a little security to an otherwise frightening future. This gem slices, trims, mulches, waxes, purifies, embalms, soothes, magnetizes, downsizes, fattens, shakes, polishes and engages in a further an assortment of other verbs left over from our pile of notes for this article. $6,000 if the creek rises.
AL QUAEDA TRAVEL MIRROR – Why do these people hate us? Take a look for yourself. Framed by 50 years of foreign policy, accentuated by petroleum based distrust and cluttered conflicts the source of which no one cares to remember. Turn the magic dial and the human image will appear as thin as the average Palestinian refugee or the fattened desert prince. Laptop available. $1.2 million.
EVANGELICAL HEARING AIDE – Is someone on your list still talking to the power upstairs? You can insure their clear reception all hours of the day or night with this tiny metaphysical hearing aide from Salvation Optics. Keep the channels open and the message infallible. Comes with translation materials and phrase book in case God prefers to speak in Spanish. Non-transferable. One size fits all. $300,000. Financing available at most righteous electronic outlets.
FOR YOUR PET: This year sees a myriad of new products for our fur-bearing buddies. Probably the most impressive are the expanded collection of doggie tattoos and the runway car loader for fat dogs and cats. The pine beetle lattice talking elk head is another fine choice. It is sure to keep Rover or kitty busy for hours upon end! Many of these diamonds in the rough are available at Mountain Mutts in Gunnison and Mountain Tails in Crested Butte. Prices depend on tightness of leash laws and what side of the door you’re on.
FORTUNATELY FOR YOU, the reader, we have run out of time and space. Sorry we couldn’t review the VOICE-ACTIVATED DINGY, the perfect gift for the Yachtie; or the KING TUT GUITAR CASE, a genuine sarcophagus of King Tutankhamen. Likewise the SOFT DRINK CERAMIC TILE GROUT DISPENSER nor the already best selling “History of Hot Dogs” and “Photographing Bedroom Furniture” will receive the deserved notoriety of the season. We didn’t like the FISH HEAD CHARM BRACELET currently being pushed on Pee-Bay or the WORLD’S FAVORITE SIREN ENSEMBLES that the Salivation Army is selling. In Closing: The breakthrough MARTINI PILLS do work. If you’re just too busy to catch a buzz this season try one. They can be a great stress reliever but easy on the vermouth if you please. Sorry—Discontinued: Palaestinian Genocide Tea Service
BILLY BOB’S Y’ALL LOG – Embrace the Panhandle Look this Christmas with the Free Burning Y’All Log from Alaskan Wilderness Explorers. Never be dependent on foreign or domestic firewood again. Natural gas, bark included, cream cleaned upon installation. Compatible with window air conditioning units made prior to 1960. Perfect for those visitors from the South, deep or otherwise. Caution: Contains wood fly-products. Self-lighting, odor-free, simulated flame. $235.99 with one-year warranty. Available at Ridgway Hardware.
PILTDOWN COMFORTER – Chase away winter’s chill with overstuffed chunks of Piltdown fabric from Eoanthropus Brothers of Pireus. Contains actual skull fragments, grizzle and cloning scraps from the laboratory floor. Seems to be fire-proof too. And the best news is that this chemically induced product will survive everything from baby’s next accident to a full-fledged nuclear engagement. Only $145. Test drive one today at Roll Me Over I Think I’m Done Boutique or any local parachute dealer
RIDE-EASY WIRELESS DUI MACHINE – Do you know someone still stupid enough to drink and drive? Why let them waste precious holiday shopping moments on roadside tests and backward alphabets? It’s cold out there along the side of the highway. Have you been drinking? Of course not! It’s the holidays. Everyone should be ready when the next officer comes to call. Complete digital response, activated charcoal-clip friendly. Never overheats except in the summer. Comes in single malt or blended. Not recommended for dirt bikes. Watch one work at all Highway Patrol Auto Parts Stores and all local jails.
HIBERNATION HELPER – Know a recluse who won’t even leave the house even to buy a lottery ticket or take out the trash? Give them a case of this stuff and they might not even leave the bathroom. Mixed powder substitute with chrome-glaze finish. Pretty colored bag that’s almost impossible to open thanks to tamper-proof defoliant. Vegetable-free with estimated shelf life of a little over a decade. Odorless cord on industrial alarm may frighten children but makes this an easy gift to keep wrapped till the end. All you add is a layer of stored body fat and a pinch of fur. Individual packets insure privacy. Available at all Solar Foods and at Life Preserves at the sprawl.
POCKET TABLE SAW – Perfect for the carpenter on the move. How many times have you heard them say, “Boy, if I just had a table saw…” Now the excuses are over. Folds up to 3 square inches for practical use. Metric sensitive. Inflatable for nautical application. Safe for use with most lumber products due to attachable fuel injection pump. Sucks up its own sawdust for a tidy exit. Dominant eye goggles not included. $500 w/ tiny matchbook case and file. Waferboard Paradise.
LOUIS XIV HEAD TRELLIS – Just like the one the silly French king wore to the guillotine. Let them say “I have delusions of grandeur” with one of these hanging off their throne. One size fits all. 100% organic, living material that blends with the scalp to create that peruke look for holiday parties. Compatible with all airline security systems and most cowboy hats. Shampoo lubricant and body hair nuclear steam iron sold separately. No shed guarantee pending. Only $75 at Wigs and Figs. Cart ride and basket extra.
SUNNY MORNING BREAKFAST WINE SAMPLER – Lots of delicious vintages for holiday chill-outs. Remind them that breakfast is indeed the most important meal of the day. Arrives by third-class mail in a phony goatskin in draped holly substitute. Find the right wine for each of your favorite breakfast meats. The December selection features a slim, irritating burgundy that is a sleazy remedy when served on a stick with fried baloney and cornmeal mush. Other holiday drinking ideas spelled out on the side of the case. $19.95 for holiday assortment. December collection available exclusively at liquor stores everywhere.
THE WINDSURFER MATTRESS – It’s hard to believe that Western man has survived so long without this technology and the concept is so simple. For added security outside the home this fully lined anti-inflammatory floatation disc is almost invisible in or out of the water. And if this isn’t enough its uni-sex, pet safe and washable. Buy early as we project that they’ll be out of stock quickly. $800 – $1600 at Sleep and Booty or check us out on the web at www.ed’sbeds.com.
RUBBER CHICKEN WINDOW DRESSING – Just like going to Chinatown without the mess. This was my favorite gift from last year and it’s still up! Looks great next to the Christmas lights. Smaller version for the tree or mantle. Almost the right last minute gift. Not appropriate for pets. Comes plucked or au natural. Great to take camping, through X-ray machines or prop up in the rear window of your car. And rest assured the manufacturer has been in business since the Ming Dynasty. Lord and War Lord’s, Gooey’s and Victoria’s Rubber Chickens. Under $10 new.
CLOSE RANGE ASSAULT POTATO LAUNCHER – So many uses its senseless to discuss. Just like the ones given to the Northern Alliance/Taliban in Afghanistan by the CIA back in 1982. Comes with frontal target fetish, ammo plunger, assortment of fuses and flare packages. Capable of neutralizing compact cars. Can be camouflaged to look like an everyday cucumber case. These are not toys and will not be sold to minors without someone’s consent. $2000 with chrome beadwork. Slightly less when you use your Salivation Army card. Potatoes…They’re not just for vodka anymore.
-Kashmir Horseshoe
Turkey Lottery Cruel?
(Montrose) The proposed Turkey Lottery for next Thanksgiving has played to mixed reaction here and in other rural communities across the country.
Saying that the birds already encounter enough stress this time of the year one critic of the concept called the measure inhumane. Supporters of the bill insist that it will create a sense of justice and put a vast segment of the turkey population out of harm’s way, for now.
Here’s how it works: The birds will be assigned numbers based on birthdays and then draw for positions. Lower numbers will designate the dinner table while higher numbers will earn a reprieve for the year.
“It’s as fair as anything else,” said Dag Katz, architect of the lottery. “This way the condemned can get their lives in order before November and the saved can go on with their lives without fear of an inevitable swan song with mashed potatoes and cranberries.”
Vegetarians were not consulted on this matter and plan to boycott the entire issue.
“What rubs my chops is that nobody has consulted the sweet potatoes or the yams,” said Toole
for more turn to Prairie Dog Shoot in 1985
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
HEROES AND BEARS AT 14,000 FEET
(Summer 1995)
My silver spurs can lick your golden years. Whenever I get down I go up, and there was Red Cloud Peak reaching toward the sky at the end of the Silver Creek Basin. I had decided to climb the mountain solo so as to have time to slow down that 21st Century noise and clear out the cobwebs that sometimes engulf my brain. In addition I had made the mistake of mentioning my plans to a friend named Popcorn who had recently lost a close family member, a 16-year-old cat named “Dad”, to a dog attack. Popcorn, who conveniently enough owned a liquor store in Crested Butte, handed me a miniature vodka concoction and asked me to drink a toast to Dad on top of the mountain. No more excuses. I now had a lofty mission, albeit a holy one.
Heading up an abandoned jeep road into the forest I began thinking, with the wisdom of humans, how politically correct even the wilderness had become. No jeeps humming, no dirt bikes screaming, lots of little brown check-in posts for hikers, plenty of bear tagging, controlled burns, semi-stocked lakes, and lots of signs prohibiting litter. It’s the Information Age in the Pines. How will the Ponderosas take to AI?
A fitting joust awaits me this Sunday morning, The first part of the hike is taxing, and I push myself up the trail hoping it will level off long enough for my respiration to catch up with my enthusiasm.
Soon I enter dark timber and then catch a glimpse of Handies Peak, spectacular in the morning sun. My mind wanders as my legs do the work.
I can hear Silver Creek crashing down through the rocks now. I wonder what ever happened to my college girlfirend or to that bastard in the Saab that cut me off on Society Turn last week. I wonder how many loyal patrons are attending Sunday morning services at Boo’s down in Lake City.
As I cross the first of three wide snowfields I can barely make out Sunlight Peak in the distance. Realizing that I have been talking out loud I’m relieved that there is no one else in earshot. There seems to be no distinct origin for, or welcome end to mustered thoughts brandished like blind, charging snowmelt, rushing through me.
Have I been around too long? Have I seen the same movie one too many times? At 46 years am I sentenced to the rocking chair? Will I reach mild euphoria knowing that it’s ten o’clock and time for the news? At my age most of the former custodians of this place, the Utes, walked out into the mountains alone to meet their creator. Answers. Honor.
Back when I was in my twenties I was certain that by the time I reached this point I would not only be wise and affluent but that I’d have my emotions in tow. Good luck, sailor. That was in the Sixties. Maybe we all missed something during that time but it’s too late to run the whole decade by again. All we have succeeded in preserving is tie-dyed shirts, lava lamps and gender confusion. It’s not the shock of waking up to find that one has waltzed through 20 years without realizing his goals. The difficulty comes in accounting for the wasted time. I’m talking out loud again. I think about angels.
The thought that Mick Jagger is a grandfather weighs heavy on my mind. I remember a conversation the other day where my friend Terry Starr told me that the only true escape from midlife crisis is to become just that, a grandfather. Another friend bought a bright red Corvette and he’s only 43. What will he do for an encore if this approach falls short? What would Sigmund Freud say, or Carl Gustav Jung for that matter?
Climbing out of the creek bed I am surrounded by wildflowers. The wet spring did its work well and…Wait! What’s that large black, fury thing coming over the ridge? I scope it out with my zoom lens. My God, it’s a black bear. Does he see me? He’s heading in this direction. Now, I’ve read where these bear are quite docile but I’ll bet this one weighs in at 400 pounds!
As the animal methodically approaches I instinctively go into an emergency bear response like the one outlined in the four-color government brochure, produced, of all places, in Denver (or maybe China). He sees me now alright. I wave my arms, so as to appear larger than life and make noises to give him every reason to retreat. He meanders down the slope in my direction. Careful not to look him in the eye I begin to back up but it’s at least three miles to my truck. He comes close. He doesn’t look that frightening but…
“Pardon me,” says the bear, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with yourself, and what’s all the mumbo jumbo about? Do you realize how silly you look waving your arms around and screaming?”
My God, I’ve finally lost it. Voices. Hallucinations. Flashbacks. A talking bear.
“I know I look like a bear but in reality I am the reincarnation of Chief Colorow, of the Utes. Considering my wicked life I am lucky to be here in this form. Being a bear ain’t all that bad. It beats coming back as While I normally avoid humans, especially white ones, I couldn’t resist talking to you.”
“Oh,” I responded.
“I’m not a mind reader, or anything, but your voice really carries in this basin,” said the bear. You are engaged in climbing a mountain. What is the source of your frustration? When I was your age we had to contend with white folks plowing up our race tracks and gold miners plugging up our hot springs. Look at these wildflowers all around you. They have a life expectancy of about two months and you don’t hear them whining, do you?”
“No,” I responded quietly. “Are you really who you say you are?”
“You don’t believe me?” said the bear. Ask any marmot. Do you want me to perform a war dance or something? That’s the trouble with you people today, you don’t trust anyone. You people live right here in the Garden and yet you can’t get out of first gear.”
“How did people in your day deal with aging?” I ask. “I don’t recall ever reading about early evening bingo and tubs of jello salad in your lodges.”
“First of all,” he answers, “there weren’t so many of us. We didn’t live as long. While modern medicine pats itself on the back for stretching out the average lifetime, we saw life as a challenging puzzle with an defined end. That end came alone in the mountains.
“Secondly, we had heroes and you don’t, he snarled. “We still have them.”
“Secondly, we had heroes and you don’t,” he snarled. “We still have them.”
“What do you mean? We have heroes,” I protested, becoming a bit antagonized by the pompous nature of this large bruin.
“Name one,” said the bear arrogantly.
“Well,” I began there’s…Uh…there’s…Give me a minute…”
I realized the bear was right. I could not think of a real hero. Everyone from Bill Clinton to Duke Snider had fallen from grace. Even Connie Chung wasn’t what she seemed.
“See,” said the bear. “That’s what’s the matter. You have no heroes. It’s so simple yet so very complicated. Without heroes one cannot break out of the stark, familiar rhythm of life and let his desperate soul go out for a full moon stroll.”
I listened as the he went on thinking to myself that this sounds like a motivational seminar and that this is one receptive, if a bit corporate bear.
“What about you?” I counter. “Who are your heroes?”
“Well there’s Dick Butkus, for starters. Now there was one fine Bear. There’s Geronimo,” frowned the bear, “who fought on when he knew he was whipped and Bella Abzug…”
“Bella Abzug?”
“Hey, growled the bear, “everyone has the choice of who they choose as a hero. That’s the beauty of it all. You choose and no explanation is necessary.”
“Oh,” I say, “so picking a hero isn’t really so hard.”
“No, he responds, “but emulating one is something altogether different.”
At his suggestion I resumed my climb reaching a ridge full of shale that is a bit more difficult to negotiate. I wanted to ask the bear how a 400-pound mammal ascends a flimsy apple tree and gets the fruit before breaking limbs and crashing to the ground in furry chaos. I also had questions about hibernation, berries and bees but they would have to stay on the back burner this morning.
“You are someone’s hero,” said the bear, “or could be with the right moxie. That’s our roll and if it is embraced we have no time to worry about our own problems. Soon they blow away like ashes and we are one with our surroundings, a complete person.”
“What about you,” I retorted. “From what I read that as Colorow you were an overweight bully who drank too much and never accomplished anything during your entire life.”
“Cruel, but true,” said the bear, “and that is precisely why I’m talking to you now. Once I was a Ute chief and now I’m a smelly, old bear who sleeps in a cave. It could happen to anyone. Accept your potential roll as a hero to someone else and you will quickly overcome all the insecurities and the confusion that plagues you. Inspire someone else and you create more and more heroes as you go. The whole thing is contagious and outrageous,” he said.
Then the bear then said goodbye and disappeared into a muddy stream before I could ask him anything else. I guess he figured that sooner or later I’ll be coming back down and, if further conversation is necessary, that he can catch me on the descent. I continued my trek up the side of Red Cloud, crossed yet another windy ridge and finally plopped down at the summit. I signed the Colorado Mountain register which was filled with the names of an assortment of heroes. Tomorrow there would be one more everyday hero, or at least someone attempting to experience that quiet distinction.
Kevin Haley, a scratch golfer with an itch to someday break 90, lives in Colona where he collects Citrons, grows garlic and publishes the sanjuanhorseshoe.com He was once the lead singer for The B-52s.
