All Entries in the "Fractured Opinion" Category

Crested Butte Gets Tough on Drinking

Year residency required to hit the bars? — October 18, 2015

(Sopris Avenue) Locals here could be required to show more than proof of age at the door of their favorite saloon this off-season. They may have to present evidence of at least one year residency as well.

Although the application of this new ordinance may come at the discretion of each establishment, other means of enforcement might be employed, according to the local marshal’s office.

“If we observe borderline behavior on the part of a suspect, we will further investigate the situation,” said one deputy. “We’re not necessarily in favor of the ordinance, but if it is passed by the local voters we will implement it.”

Both police and the originators of the yearresidency concept feel that this move will allow for closer monitoring of alcohol consumption, especially within a group that is questionable to start with.

“Some of these people get totally out of control the first week after they have arrived in town,” said the deputy. “Maybe it’s the altitude. Maybe it’s the new environs. It’s normal, but we don’t feel that long time residents should have to suffer.”

The deputy pointed out that he has seen “about 20 years of these shenanigans, which get old after a while”. He added that he did not think the new law would affect the booming bar business in the town.

Big nights like these need to be earned say town fathers and mothers. (Bill Dickerson Photo)

Over in Ridgway the town council has adopted a measure that would require similar credentials be shown before one hurls himself into the often steamy nightlife.

“We feel that new locals should wait a little while before embracing this culture,” said Marlena Quacksalver, a spokesperson for someone’s council. “And besides, considering all the new ordinances that have been adopted here since 1990, what’s one more?”

When asked if this proposed ordinance could apply to the purchase of recreational drugs, the spokesperson appeared shocked.

“Hypothetically,” she posed. “This type of activity is the business of state drug agencies and their jurisdiction takes precedence over our silly ordinances anyway.”

-H.L. Menoken

Locals Warned: Gatherers Arriving This Week

(Montrose Marble- October 14, 2015)

Community leaders warn all citizens here to watch their belongings as desperate throngs of gatherers are gradually making their way into the Uncompahgre Valley for their seasonal romp. Things always seem to turn up missing when these wretched and persistent locust-like mobs proliferate.

Gatherers, the extended socio-economic subgroup linked to hunters, as in the anthropological Hunters and Gatherers classification, are expected to descend on Western Colorado as early as next week. Division of Wildlife and Social Services workers are keeping a firm eye on the shabby contingent, which generally shows up broke with just the clothes on their back in search of substance, bits and pieces, matter to collect or gather.

“The target items discussed herein are further refined and defined as anything not locked up or tied down,” said Charles Scruples of the Troglodyte Foundation. “These gatherers, although not evolved entirely to the task, have developed sticky fingers over the centuries and are often the loud, pushy sort.”

Scruples suggests that residents and visitors keep an eye on their belongings, especially in large crowds, deserted stretches and after dark.

“Hoarding is a disease, one that we do not want to see cured by a bullet,” snapped Scruples. “We’d like to make it through this difficult migration without incident.”

In 2014 three gatherers were wounded when they trespassed into a well- manicured garden in search of snow peas. The vegetable plot, owned by Warren (Old Man) Pritchard of 33992200772344 Road west of town, had been sloppily probed the night before allowing time for Pritchard to arm himself with buckshot for their subsequent visit.

Region Zen officials have announced that their organization would provide free camping and drinking water in an attempt to isolate and cordon off the gatherers from the mainstream summer visitors.
– Rufus Maxwell

Coming in to Gothic on a fall afternoon

A VEGETABLE STAND IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN

NEW YORK  —  October 4, 2015

The stormy spring morning on the sidewalks of Little Italy takes a peek at a drenched Lucifero setting up his ragtag vegetable stand like always. For the last week or two he’s been expanding his inventory to include summer fruits arriving by the truckload from New Jersey. As the warm sun burns the clouds away he looks to the heavens and registers his sour mood with the cynical snap common to a wet Sicilian.

“Idiots. They are all idiots, running to their own funerals. None of them ever ask the right questions. They don’t even know where they came from, and have certainly never faced the prospects of where they are going,” he chanted. The most unoriginal sinners in the world live in New York.

“I’ve sold to new potatoes to Nebuchadnezzar II, corn to Cleopatra, snow peas to Pontius Pilot, gourds to Genghis Khan, string beans to King Henry whatsisname, and honeydew melon to Napolean, not to mention one bright shiny, red apple to a woman named Eve,” he smiled. “And here it is 1939 and I’m stuck negotiating the price of Brussels sprouts with these peasants.”

Just then, a large, slightly overweight fellow with a snow white beard, wearing a faded red plaid hunting jacket came humming around Lucifero’s leafy corner. As he passed the stand he waved good day an grabbed an apple.

Before Lucifero could say“Old Scratch” the man had disappeared.

“Damn, he did it again,” spat Lucifero. “I might make a living it it weren’t for thieves, taxes and fruit flies.”

“Hold the moralizing, Lucifero,” rasped a white-bearded whisper from a nearby doorway. “I pay my fruit and vegetable tab at the end of every week, now don’t say I don’t.”

A stooped Lucifero swung around to a contorted response, lowering his head, watching the apple snatcher chewing away contentedly.

“And hold your head up, boy. How do expect to project the proper image with that posture! Good apple, though, Lucifero,” he chomped. “No worms for a change.”

“Or snakes,” said Lucifero, tempting divine providence on that charming spring day. “I do my own work best, without any input from your pack of thugs,” he slurred. “Is that your car?

“Yeah, it’s a Cadillac. Gabriel bought it for me last month. He says I need to drive something befitting my station in life. I think he’s social climbing in his own angelic way.”

“That can get you into trouble, heh?” answers Lucifero. “But some of us did survive, and then there are the human extensions. Look at my boy Adolf. He’s kicking some butt in Europe. Did you see the way he seduced the Austrians and marched into Czechoslovakia?”

“We’ll see how you do after Winston and Franklin get their ducks in a row. One thing’s for sure, you could be striking it rich like the other angles if you’d have just been patient. They went corporate, sure, they showed up for work every day. They bought the eternal plan. But look at Michael, he’s semi-retired to the celestial suburbs, has a summer home in the Hamptons, and buys a new set of wings every year. Thugs like him are sipping the nectar of the gods, while you’re own here sorting cauliflower, arranging sweet potatoes and bitching about your lot.”

“Who’s bitching? I’m just telling it like it is. I tried working for you. There were those philosophical differences. You try working this stand all day and see if you still love all these people so damn much. I’d like to see you in this apron with all your all-knowing, all-forgiving omni-presentness and all that,” said Lucifero, noticing a frown forming on the man’s forested face. Thinking better of incurring his wrath he changes his approach.

“Here, have a pear. They’re very nice today…”

“…But I’ve just had an apple,” said the white beard. “A pear would be a sin, and don’t be so defensive.”

“Just pay up, then” says a rearmed Lucifero holding out his hand. “Put your money where your mouth was.”

Just then a couple waltzes down the street, their ballet explainable only in one silly word: Love.

Although they appeared to be adrift, they dropped their amorous anchor right in front of Lucifero’s vegetable stand.

“Good morning,” offered Lucifero. “Nice morning. Are you looking for something special?”

“Not really, sir,” said the young man. “Beautiful pears, though.”

“Yes. Beautiful pears,” said Lucifero thinking back to a moment ago. “Do you live around here? I have not seen you before.”

“We live in the Garden District,” answered the young woman. “I’m Eve and this is Adam.”

This time Lucifero’s gaze in the direction of the bearded man was met with one of equal surprise. Ancient eyebrows were in full tilt. Both hurled themselves back into the conversation.

“Is that a fact,” quipped Lucifero. Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I am Lucifero, and this is my friend Mr…Mr. Smith. Yes. Mr. Smith.”

Adam shook hands, Eve nodded cordially.

“What do you do, Mr. Smith,” she asks politely.

“Oh a little of this, and a little of that…”

“He’s too modest,” shot Lucifero. Mr. Smith is a renown creator of some regard. He has accomplished much in the field of human resources in what has been very little time.”

“Now, Lucifero, let’s not bore these kids with my history…”

“What would you like, then?” asks Lucifero, changing the conversation back to the business of produce.

“Those tomatoes look good. Where do they come from?” asked the young man.

“Upstate,” said Lucifero.

“We’ll take a dozen, and six ears of corn and…what about some apples, honey?” asks Adam. “You’ve been staring at them since we got here.”

“Yes, Eve, how about some nice apples?” smiles Lucifero holding out one of his best.

“You want to be careful of apples this time of the year, dear,” starts the bearded man. “You can’t tell it but most have worms and the fruit’s still mushy.”

“You just ate one,” said Lucifero. “Did you encounter the little serpents?”

“No, but maybe I was just lucky.”

“How much are the apples?” asks Eve, now entranced by the red treasure.

“Maybe a bit more than you’ll want to pay,” cracked the creator.

“Let the lady decide,” schmoozed Lucifero handing her the apple.

Eve looks at the apple, looks at Adam and glances in the direction of the bearded man who is shaking his head from side to side.

“I’ll take it,” says Eve biting down hard on the fruit.

Lucifero completes the transaction, delighted with his sale. The Adam and Eve skip off with their treasures.

“Curses!” says the creator. “I give them a free will but they stumble every time!”

“Now, there’s no need for profanity, sir, “smiles Lucifero. “Here, I have a present for you. It’s a very interesting piece by a fellow named Darwin. Maybe it will shed some light on the behavior of these humans.”

“Darwin, huh?” he answers. “I heard something about him the last time I was in Tennesse.”

Lake Fork of the Gunnison north of Lake City

Tarzan, Cheetah Arrested at Old Growth Sit-In

(Grand Mesa Gazette and Advertiser – September 22, 2015)

The recognized “King of the Apes” and his monkey sidekick spent the night in Delta County Jail after an altercation with security forces near Lost Lake, the site of contested lumber activity.

The confrontation occurred as a group of “militant tree huggers” attempted to divert heavy equipment destined for the cutting ground.
In a prepared statement a tearful Tarzan remained defiant.

“Hey, Cheetah and I have a vested interest in trees. We’ve lived in the jungle forever without lumber companies upsetting the fragile eco-system. Monitored harvesting of local lumber is one thing while air pollution and propaganda is something else altogether.”

Tarzan has threatened to “call out the elephants” if the situation does not improve by the weekend.

“It’s these kinds of threats that got these whackos thrown in the slammer in the first place,” said one county enforcer, “that and the skimpy loincloth.

“These malcontents must learn to follow the rules here and petition the courts in a proper manner,” said the source. “Money talks – Nobody walks,” he smiled.
The two celebrities are currently incarcerated at a halfway house for primates and political prisoners at a secret location between Cummings Gulch and Peach Valley. – Manco Copac