All Entries in the "Reflections on Disorder" Category

LETTERS

Doth he not suffer the fool gladly?

– Oltorf, Lesser god of the Finn Jasmine Norse 

Dear Horseshoe:
The Atomic Pet Waste Projectile that was advertised in your summer issue is a piece of garbage. Not only does in backfire but it leaks. Your recommendations, as usual, suck. I’ll never believe in you again.

Dag Katz
Crested Butte, CO

Dear Mel:
A few years back a friend of mine from Malibu received a lovely set of porcelain designer cat dishes. As one could easily imagine, she cherished them. Well, over the years normal wear and tear dictated the present condition of the remaining set. One saucer broke in Europe and a formal serving dish exploded in Bali. Another piece disappeared while we were surfing in South Africa in 1982. Anyway, I’ve searched the world over for a replacement set to send her. Do you know if any of the Montrose boutiques would carry something like that?

Muffy Floorburn
Telluride

Dear Muffy:
First let me just say that I enjoyed your Festival piece that appears elsewhere in this issue. You have a lot of talent. Want to go to the drive-in come spring? In undressing your correspondence, I suggest you try the animal shelter, Pets-Are-Us or the Cat’s Meow. If all else fails stop by the Salivation Army. Items like this have a way of surfacing there.

Dear Editor:
I must take exception with an article entitled “Presidential Notes” which appeared in your last issue. For your information, Richard Nixon played the electric guitar and not the cello as you repeatedly asserted. In addition, Gerald Ford mastered the triangle while in gym class at Michigan, not while sitting in Congress. While you were correct in your assumption that Jimmy Carter played the harmonica, you were remiss in your failure to mention his love affair with the washboard. It was at a washboard gig that he met both Teddy Kennedy and Walter Mondale in 1973.
The breakdown of Presidents and their musical instrument of choice follows a simple enough pattern. Some 22 Presidents, including Adams, Monroe, Tyler and Lincoln played the violin while another 30 enjoyed the piano. Teddy Roosevelt could really lay down some ragtime. Two played the tuba (Cleveland and Taft) and seven (including Bill Clinton) have chosen the saxophone as their preferred instrument. The only Chief Executive that did not play a musical instrument was Millard Fillmore who was completely tone deaf and spent his brief two-year stint plowing through Hawthorne’s “The Scarlet Letter”, which he inadvertently left behind when driven from the White House. His successor Franklin Pierce could not make heads or tails of the book and subsequently gave it to his sister-in-law for her 50th birthday in 1853.

Thumbellina Etchabarron
Cimarron, CO

Dear Consumer Person:
Let him without guilt cast the first stone, heh? Before you throw your hands up in disgust at the irresponsible fiscal behavior in government you must ask yourself: What is my credit card debt? If Mrs Jones makes $40,000 per year and owes $50,000 to Citibank, she is effectively bankrupt and will never dig her way out of the hole into which she has fallen.
Deficit spending. Tighten your belt.
Credit card abuse is one-way street and a deadbeat is a deadbeat. You have to be a standup person. It is not a good bet that you will win the lottery and Jesus will not pay off your credit cards for you down the road, no matter what they’ve told you.
Stop pointing the finger and wake up before it’s too late!

Arthur C. Mothchild
Pimpco Brokerage and Grill
Geneva

To the editor:
Recently a Hashishistani Prince was neutered to keep the family out of power. Although seen as somewhat rash in some circles it was swift and effective and kept quarrelsome tribes from collective throats. The media coverage however, was deplorable with only the alternative press in attendance.
Now instead of a royal ascendancy they have a peasant’s paradise where everyone gets to be in charge of everything for at least one full day during his/her lifetime.
Perhaps we should try it here too.

Everett Throckmorton II
Ditch Warlock
Downtown Delta
–

Notice

The most Honorable Melvin O’ Toole, in keeping with the highest diplomatic standards and sensitive protocol will not be returning phone calls (or compliments) until at least Cinco de Mayo as he will be indisposed, quite pleasantly, in warmer more exotic climes where the sport of baseball is still in the infant stages.

During January and February the former utility infielder and hit-by-pitch specialist will be fully occupied in his duties as talent scout for the Colorado Rockies in Central Laos. The team is reportedly looking for relief pitching. Sorry for any inconvenience. One can easily email Toole and should expect a quick and capable retort.

(Editor’s note: If you happen to know any exceptional Laotian relief pitchers (unlikely but who knows) please contact this website immediately. Failure to do so could be considered high treason from Chicago to Cleveland and from Los Angeles to Boston.)

And don’t be late either!

Infomercial by Jeff Brown, Real Alaska Magazine

The Tarzan and Jane Dialogues

Brought to you in living black and white by O’Hara’s Foot Powder. Ask for it by name at your friendly kapellmeister.

The scene: The Cleavers house at the dinner table

Jane: Don’t be such a stuffed shirt, Tarzan. You haven’t seen Ward Cleaver since the war.
Tarzan: Not like Ward. Him know-it-all.
Jane: Ssssh. Here they come now. Hello June. Hello Ward. Hello boys. My the boys are getting bigger everyday.
Wally: A miracle of modern biology.
June: Now Wally that’s no way to speak at the table.
Ward: I always say, the manners learned at the dinner table will dictate the kind of man…
Wally: Shut up, Ward.
Tarzan: This wildebeast tough, June. How long dead?
Jane: Tarzan! I’m surprised at you. It’s not wildebeest. It’s fried marmot.
June: Oh, that’s OK, Jane. I may have mixed up the zip-lock packages from the freezer. It does have that wildebeest texture…Hmmm, but the package clearly said marmot…
Beaver: Someday I hope to be the curator of paleontology here at the community college.
Ward: Good boy, Beaver. That’s the stuff! I always say, dinner etiquette formulates later behavior patters. Why, even if a young man eats nothing but humus he can still open a can of tuna or grill a biscuit.
Wally: Kiss off, Ward.
June: Wally…
Tarzan: Wally OK, June. I used to have same problem with Cheetah until I borrow cattle prod from Ubangis.
Ward: Beaver! Get a shirt on! What’s the matter with you!
Beaver: Tarzan’s not wearing a shirt.
June: But, dear that’s part of his costume.
Wally: Yeah, Beave, like Donald Duck not wearing pants.
Ward: So, Tarzan, are you on line yet?
Tarzan: On lion?
June: Oh, Ward, don’t be silly. We’ve seen all of your films, Tarzan. I particularly liked the one where the locals were chasing Jane and you called out the elephants. All that testosterone! Do apes really ride ostriches?
Wally: What a geek. Ask her about her two-piece loincloth. Pretty risqué for the Forties, wouldn’t you say?
Beaver: Thanks for dinner, mom. Can I go over to Whitey’s and read dirty magazines?
June: Yes, dear, just so long as you’ve finished your homework.
Ward: Excuse yourself, son.
Wally: He’s trying to, dad.
June: Now Wally…remember your manners.
Ward: Yes, Wally, table manners have everything to do with…
Wally: Shove it, Ward.
Ward: Well, Tarzan, let’s retire to my study and smoke cigars.
Tarzan: Not politically correct to smoke. Not politically correct to depict women as servants and domestic support entities…
Ward: Say what? This is the Fifties. It’s OK. It’s even expected.
Wally: Great humus, mom. I’m going over to Lumpy’s and shoot heroin.
June: Be home early, Wally. It’s a school night.

THE END

Ed Hunnicutt Visits

An afternoon of music not soon forgotten. Singer-songwriter, Ed Hunnicutt (second from left) , paid a visit to Western Colorado recently. Joined by Kurt Isgreen, Les Choy, Bob Becker and Bill Wilson the tunes were terrific. (Lee Hunnicutt Photo)

STUDENTS EATING CROW

(Gunnison Nov 8, 2016) Once it was gold fish. Now in what social scientists call the latest college craze hundreds of Western State College students are eating crow. Whether attributed to the food in the dining halls or the availability of the large black birds on campus the trend is gaining momentum just in time for graduation.

“It all started as a joke,” said Arlo “Benny” Winger, recognized as the first student here to dine on the ravens. “After a while the culinary advantages of living off the land became apparent and more and more people began the odd practice, even for breakfast.

Several faculty members have also been observed chowing down on crow.
“They taste a lot like chicken,” said Winger, to coin an old adage. “The fare is not subject to a lot of added hormones and steroids common to the present day poultry industry.”

At present visitors to the campus can observe gangs of students prowling the campus armed with sticks in search of dinner. Authorities feel that the practice will subside as fresh fruit and vegetables from warmed environs make their way to Gunnison for the summer.

“The birds are just getting a taste of their own medicine,” chirped Winger. “Anyone who travels the road kill corridors in spring can attest to that.”

One administrator suggested that while the practice of eating crow could be seen a distasteful by some it’s far better than the students eating each other or relying on fast food to satisfy their undergraduate appetites.

– Aerial Wayman