All Entries in the "Reflections on Disorder" Category
BEER TRUCKS IN FENDER BENDER
Local council declares a bank holiday so locals get to slurp.
(Montrose) Two large semis filled with cold beer collided today in a minor accident at the corner of Main and Townsend here. The trucks spewed some 2300 gallons of the hoppy nectar up and down the street.
“It was a living hell,” said one unnamed bar patron, who had only minutes ago left LeCave for an afternoon walk.
At the high point there was an estimated four foot wall of beer charging down Main Street toward City Hall. Fortunately, a contingent of courageous local citizens was there to turn it back.
“For a while there it looked like we were going to be overrun,” burped another anonymous source.
Officers on the scene, unable to determine fault, called the wreck a draw as city crews began the final mop up.
The mishap was the worst of its kind since 1945, when a turboprop henway, caught in a hail storm, inadvertently dropped some 30 bags of gold dust onto the town. Luckily there were no direct hits and no injuries. The gold was never recovered. Authorities believe it is still somewhere between Hadley’s, the Stockmen’s Cafe and the Chipeta Hotel Bar. Anyone with information about the whereabouts of the loot is asked to call Crime Stoppers after happy hour.
-Pepper Salte
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Summer Special: Buy now and receive a multiple use Pickle Ball/Home Run Derby overlay for fun over the off-season.
Puck Bunnies and Goal Sucks Ltd. Boreal Forest Acres, Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Components backordered. Aggregates forthcoming. AKA: Hat Tricks Up Our Sleeves, Toronto and Winnipeg.
WORLD IS FLAT SAYS KANSAS EVANGELIST
(Dodge City) An often respected television evangelist, Reverend Philip “Phil” Pharisee, has shocked his flock by declaring that the world is flat. The announcement came in the middle of a sermon delivered at Church of the Undivided Plain in nearby Spearville. Pharisee remarked that it is refreshing to see ancient articles of his well-watered imagination backed up by physical law for a change. He added that any fool, even a secular humanist, only need look out of his window to know the real truth.
Pharisee, a major proponent of secession in Southwest Kansas, went on to add that the entire concept of Columbus discovering America was nothing but a cheap real estate scam.
“If he really discovered America why won’t he return my phone calls!” shouted Pharisee, working up quite a sweat by now. “If you cynics out there don’t believe me you can read it for yourself as soon as somebody gets his ducks in a row over at UPI!” he warbled.
-Estelle Marmotbreath
Top Ten Summer Reads
Too stoned to do yard work
by Thorazeen F. Puffinghouse
What is the plural of synopsis?
An elitist grammar pocket primer
Long-in-the-Tooth “Self-contained at 102″
by Cowboy Earl MacAdoo
Cherry-picking the Bible without migrant labor
Pickin’ Fruit, Eating’ Beans Trilogy
How Denisovans played video games in night skies
Chronicles on the Discovery of Indirect Lighting
The King and I
Shedding Unwanted Weight by Stormy Daniels
Petroleum Menagerie
by Tennessee Walker’s Defense of Fracking Orchestra
Making The Apocalypse work for you
Persian Crossword Destinies from Mohammad Mosaddeq
When Yes means No and Maybe means Never
40 Double Talk Dinner Ideas
Vladimir Putin – Bullied at Leningrad High?
by Mary Trump
CAN THE CLOCKS AND CALENDARS FOR JUST A MONTH
“So little time, so little to do.” – Oscar Levant
While perched firmly behind a bottle or two of merry-go-down the other night my friends and I may have actually stumbled onto something meaningful, or at least worth sharing with introspective readers such as yourselves. Here we sat, broken men and women who, having rendered to Caesar what is Caesar’s, must now wait for the riches of the summer season to replenish our mountain coffers.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if being broke was like it was in the old days around here,” said Mick, a fit but gray scalped brute who used to make the rodeo circuit but now sells tires to survive.
“I know what you mean,” gulped Ellen as she sipped her Pabst and stared out the fogged window into the late spring strewn streets, still mildly soggy from the morning’s pitiful attempt at rain. “I’m swamped. Between fronting my shop for the summer and covering my rear from the gov’ment I feel like an three-minute egg in a lock-jaw vice.”
It was at that moment that somebody else chimed in suggesting that what we all needed was a good rest. Not a vacation. Not a night on the town. Not a nap, but a real reprieve from all the crap. More specifically what we needed was a grace month, in which to recoup, lick our wounds, reflect on our blessings and get back into the saddle before full summer comes roaring down the cosmic bike path.
Now that’s a tall order.
Imagine an enchanted 30 days falling into our high altitude laps, and at what better time than the windy spring when the world is working on its second cup of coffee in most locales but still has its sleepy head buried deep in the pillow ‘round here.
All we’re asking is for one glorious month in which to depart the treadmill and do whatever one didn’t get around to during the traditional twelve month square dance. One could just sleep if he felt like it, watch Bogart/Hepburn movies, or fish for 30 days and 30 nights. Can the clocks and calendars and smash that annoying hour glass against the salt mine door! Stay in your pajamas all month.
Or walk around wearing nothing at all.
Forget about working four tens or six sevens or any of that time clock propaganda. Forget about calling in sick or making silly lists of chores that just have to get done. Don’t answer the phone. Don’t make the bed. Don’t even feed Rover or Kitty if you don’t feel like it. (With all the time they have on their hands you’d think they could rustle their own grub). Make doing nothing the main focus of the daylight hours then drop back into a semi-comatose state in the early evening drifting into plant-like flaccidness by dark. Why would anyone look forward to some chronologically-imposed pasture perpetration when each year he had a month to get his ducks firmly entrenched in that illusive row.
There are some of you out there who might feel that this concept is of philosophical danger to the productive operation of the planet but are we doing such a good job or anything as it is? Would the earth have time to recover from our ecological blunders in 30 days? Probably not, but at least the old girl could have time to catch her breath or take a long weekend in Las Vegas or New Orleans. Maybe.
Getting back to the subject of pets, have you ever seen a dog look at his watch or a cat refer to her daily reminder? Hell no. They don’t even know what day it is and it doesn’t change a thing. They can amuse themselves with the household garbage or a piece of string and have the ability to fall asleep without provocation. These creatures could serve as the primary roll models. Next we have only to look at our very own federal government.
Can anyone out there tell us when, how many times and why the government has shut down in 1996? Did anyone really notice? Is the thing still shut down? How many naps does the average Congressman take in a workday? How can politicians earning say $300,000 per year end up millionaires in a few short terms?
What about the Dark Ages? Was anyone watching the clock during that era? How long did these opaque decades linger and does anyone feel their affect today? Would it have mattered if the entire population of Western Europe had engaged in playing hackeysack for that time period?
Are you aware that some people sit and watch Cubs’ games almost every afternoon from April to October?
What are we driving at here? Who knows. What does it all matter? It’s shoulder-season and all the smart people are out of town anyway.
So let’s explore the possibilities outlined herein. A month of leisure. We could all meet at the intersection of Cosmos Lane and Eternity Avenue and throw a big pot luck three times a day and if everyone would bring their dogs, nobody would have to do the dishes! We could just eat dessert if we wanted. The bars would probably do well except that there’d be no bartender on duty.
All that time. I’d finally get to play enough bingo and memorize all of the zip codes in the Rocky Mountain region. What about a Colorado Elevator Music Festival? Does anyone out there want to get in on the ground floor?
– Melvin O’Toole
Bake sale to preserve our traditions
(Montrose) A gala bake sale to save our traditions is slated for May 28 at Lion’s Park. Attending the gathering will be Martha Stewart and Senor Pepino, the Sage of Carnival. It is not clear whether the Pope will make it in time as he has a flat tire on his throne. A replica of the Montrose Wal-Mart will be set ablaze along with several captured developers from Telluride. The sale runs from 8 am to 4 pm. A slide show follows. Look for us on the web at
www.goatropersneedlovetoo.com
