All Entries in the "Soft News" Category

BLM to construct new wilderness area

Local Events As We Imagine Them

(Denver) A spokesman for the Bureau of Land Management announced today that it would begin work on a multi-million dollar wilderness area just west of the town of Almont before the snow melts
Today BLM officials appeared out of thin air, recruiting trees, rocks, deer, elk, bear, lion, marmots, coyote, trout, eagles, hawks and mountain goats for their new plastic boondocks. They expect to have an indigenous, well-trained, instinctive staff installed by May.
This is the second man-made designer wilderness area to be implemented in Western Colorado since the Nuggets were a contender. Readers will recall the petti tieux-dieux over the revamping of pastureland in Montrose back in the late Nineties, when the former paradise took on the demeanor of Arvada. The shopping zone is now ranked third in the At Risk Urban Wilderness Places register, according to an impressive academic paper “What if Allah is Nuts Too?” published by the Disappointment Valley Optimists last November.
Almont residents expressed concern over the expected influx of migrant workers who are reportedly headed this way with the announcement of the project.
Newly endorsed Almont Building Inspector Mel Boardfoote-Toole, spent most of last night examining newly poured foundations with a flashlight before driving his 1938 Henway across the river and through the woods and into a large woodpile discarded by fishermen somewhere near the Enchanted Almont Triangle.
“I almost fell out after all that figuring but some space creatures woke me up just before I started flowing down toward Gunny,” winced Toole. “They said they were cruising to Pitkin County to perform “life-threatening surgeries on the mindless rich” according to the one who spoke English.
Anyone involved in this project or this news account has until midnight Thursday to turn himself into the Tin Cup police and receive a full pardon, compliments of the local chamber of commerce.
Vacillators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
– Gabby Haze

The Banshee at the Bridge

“The banshee,9 Misther Harry? Well, sir, as I was strivin’ to tell ye, I was goin’ home from work one day, from Mr. Cassidy’s that I tould ye of, in the dusk o’ the evenin’. I had more nor a mile – aye, it was nearer two mile – to thrack to where I was lodgin’ with a dacent widdy woman I knew, Biddy Maguire by name, so as to be near me work.
“It was dark the first week in November,10 an’ a lonesome road I had to travel, an’ dark enough, with threes above it; an’ about halfways there was a bit iv a bridge I had to cross, over one o’ them little sthrames that runs into the Doddher. I walked on in the middle iv the road, for there was no toe-path that time, Misther Harry, nor for many a long day afther that. But, as I was sayin’, I walked along till I come nigh upon the bridge, where the road was a bit open, an’ there, right enough, I seen the hog’s back o’ the ould-fashioned bidge that used to be there till it was pulled down years ago, an’ a white mist steamin’ up out o’ the wather all around it.
“Well, now, Misther Harry, often as I’d passed by the place before, that night it seemed sthrange to me, an’ like a place ye might see in a dhrame; an’ as I come up to it I began to feel a cowld wind blowin’ through the hollow o’ me heart. Mushi Thomas, sez I to meself, is it yerself that’s in it, sez I. So I put a bould face on it, an’ I made a sthruggle to set one foot afore the other, ontil I came to the rise o’ the bridge. And there, God be good to us! in the cantle o’ the wall I seen an ould woman, as I thought, sittin’ on her hunkers, all crouched together, an’ her head bowed down, seemin’ly in the greatest affliction.
such a pair iv eyes as they wor…as cowld as the moon in a bog-hold iv a frosty night.
“Well sir, I pities the ould craythur, no matther the mortal fright I was in, so I up an’ sez to her, ‘That’s a could lodgin’ for ye, ma’am.’ Well, she tuk no more notice o’ me than if I hadn’t let a word out o’ me, but kep’ rockin’ herself to an’ fro, as if her heart was breakin’. So I sez to her again, ‘Eh, ma’am, is there anythin’ the matther with ye?’ An’ I made for to touch her on the showldher, ownly somethin’ stopped me, for as I looked closer at her I saw she was no more an ould woman nor she was an ould cat.
“The first thing I tuk notice to, Misther Harry, was her hair that was sthreamin’ down over her showldhers, an’ a good yard on the ground of aich side o’ her. O, but that was the hair! The likes iv it I never seen on mortial woman, young or ould, before nor sence. It grew as sthrong out iv her as out iv e’er a young slip iv a girl ye could see; but the color iv it was a mysthery to describe. The first squint I got iv it I thought it silvery gray, like an ould crone’s; but when I got up beside her I saw, but the glance o’ the sky, it was a sort iv an Iscariot color, an’ a shine out iv it like floss silk. It ran over her showldhers and the two shapely arms she was lanin’ her head on, for ll the world like Mary Magdalen’s in a picther. And then I persaved that the gray cloak and the green gownd undernaith it was made of no earthy matherial I ever laid eyes on.
“Well, Misther Harry, the word wasn’t out o’ me mouth afore she turned her face on me. Musha, Misther Harry, but ’twas that was the awfullest apparition ever I seen, the face iv her as she looked up at me! God forgive me for sayin’ it, but ’twas like no face I could mintion – as pale as a corpse, an’ most o’ freckles on it, like the freckles on a turkey’s eff; an’ two eyes sewn in with red thread, from the terrible power o’ cryin’ they had to do; an’ such a pair iv eyes as they wor, Misther Harry, as blue as tow forget-me-nots, an’ as cowld as the moon in a bog-hold iv a frosty night, an’ a dead-an’-live look in them that sent a cowld shiver through the marow o’ me bones. By the mortial! ye could have rung a taycupful o’ cowld paspiration out o’ the hair o’ me head that minute, so ye could.
“Well, I thought the life ‘ud lave me intirely when she riz up from her hunkers, till, bedad! she looked mostly as tall as Nelson’s Pillar. An’ with those two eyes gazin’ back at me, an’ her two arms stretched out before her, an’ a keine* out iv her that riz the hair o’ me scalp till it was as stiff as the hog’s bristles in a new hearth broom, away she glides – yes, glides – around the angle o’ the bridge, an’ down with her into the sthrame that ran underhernaith it.
” ‘Twas then I began to suspect what she was. I made a great sthruggle to get me two legs into a fast throt, in spite o’ the spavin o’ fright the pair o’ them wor in. How I brought meself home that same night the Lord in heaven ownly knows. For I never could tell. But I must ha’ tumbled agin the door, and shot in head foremost into the middle iv the floork where I lay in a dead swoon for mostly an hour. The first I knew was Mrs. Maguire stannin’ over me with a jorum o’ punch she was pourin’ down me throath to bring back the life into me, an’ me head in a pool iv cowld wather she dashed over me in her first fright.
“Arrah, Misther Connolly…What ails ye to put the scare on a lone woman,”… sez she.
” Arrah, Misther Connolly,’ she sez, ‘what ails ye, to put the scare on a lone woman like that?’ sez she.
” ‘O, glory be to God!’ sez I. ‘But I thought I was in purgathory at the laste, not to mintion an uglier place,’ sez I, ‘ownly it’s too cowld I find meself, an’ not too hot,’ sez I.
” ‘Faix, an’ maybe ye wor more nor halfways there, ownly for me,’ sez she. ‘But what’s come to you at all, at all? Is it your own fetch ye spirit ye seen, Misther Connolly?”
” ‘Aw, naboslish (don’t mind it)! sez I. ‘Never mind what I seen.’
“So, by degrees, I began to come to a little; an’ that’s the way I met the banshee, Misther Harry!”
“But how did you know it really was the banshee after all, Thomas?”
“Begor, sir, I knew the apparition of her well enough, but ’twas confirmed by a sarcumstance that occurred the same time. There was a Misther O’Nale was come on a visit, ye must know, to a place in the neighborhood – one o’ the ould O’Nales iv the County Tyrone, a rale ould Irish family – an’ the banshee was heard keinin’ round the house that same night, by more than one that was in it; an’ sure enough, Misther Harry, he was found dead in his bed the next mornin’. So if it wasn’t the banshee I seen that time, I’d like to know what else it could a’ been.”
-John Todhunter (1809-73)

9. The banshee, the female apparation who wails before the death of a human (but only for members of old Irish families), is sometimes accompanied by a coach-a-bower—a huge black coach which is pulled by headless black horses, and driven by a dullahan, a headless phantom. Duffy’s Sixpenny Magazine (Dublin) tells us that “the sinister, coffin-mounted coach rumbles to the door of a dying Irishman or Irishwoman, but should anyone be so foolhardy as to open it a basin of blood will be thrown in his face.” The origin of the dullahan is obscure. According to Thomas Crofton Croker, it is believed to have emanated from Norway where, folklore has it, the heads of corpses were cut off enfeeble their ghosts, however, W.B. Yeats offers the suggestion, that the dullahan may have descended from the giant of Irish mythology who swam across the Channel with his head in his teeth.
10. Many Irish folktales dealing with fairies are laid in November, the third fairy festival of the year. The first is May Eve which, however, occurs only every seventh year when they fight furiously for the harvest—the choicest ears of grain, of course, belong to them. The fighting can be detected in the shirling of the wind and the debris of the fields and woods flying about. Witnessing this, the peasantry respectfully remove their hats and murmur, “God bless the good people.”
The second of the fairy festivals occurs on midsummer Eve. At this time, when the bonfires are kindled on every hill in honor of Saint John, the fairies are at their merriest—and usually most lustful. Sometimes, on Midsummer Eve, they will steal away beautiful girls for their brides.
The November Eve festival sees them at their wickedest—and gloomiest—for this is the first night of winter, according to the old Gaelic reckoning. On this night, the fairies dance with the ghosts, the pooka is abroad, and witches make their spells. After November Eve the blackberries are no longer wholesome because pooka has spoiled them.
*The Celtic form for keen; to wail or howl in mournin for the dead.

LIFE, LOVE AND AREPAS

Which transport over the pass to Riosucio?
Photo by Delinda Austin

LIFE, LOVE AND AREPAS IN THE GREEN COLOMBIAN ANDES

The next installment of Love and Antioquia, will now be presented novela (the game show concept failed to generate any interest). But before I become further distracted from my immedite chore I wish to remind you that the Spanish word for the day is tierna, which means tender, and describes my traveling companion.

 LOVE AND AREPAS

All plates in Colombia feature a big (or sometimes small) bad arepa for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s a cross between a dry corn bread and a dry corn tortilla. Just looking at one has been known to produce cottonmouth. I think people eat them because they always have and for no other good reason. But they are tenacious. In their defense arepas are friends with scrambled eggs and cheese, beans and rice or potato soup and a salad.

RUM BEFORE DISHONOR

Beautiful window shutters in Jardin

Upon arrival at LaTampa Cafe in Jardin for my morning coffee I noticed my friend Alfonso was meticulously filling a large chuckhole with coffee grinds from his operation. I watched him complete the job and said nothing.

Jardin looks a lot like Ouray and acts like Ridgway back in the 70s. Salsa, Cumbia, Tango blasting from the bars mixing unintentionally with church bells and the clop of horses on the cobblestones. We saw few gringos in the two weeks spent here. Even fewer up above town where our hotel had a big bathtub and two delicious trucherias (trout restaurants) ruled the roost. One of these eateries, Valdivia, features a very social German Shepherd greeter at the gate.The culture is strong in Antioquia, not yet diluted by world tourism, which has affected other towns on the so-called gringo trail. The better your Spanish, the better your visit.

MUCHO RUIDO

Tree falls in Jardin Photo by Delinda Austin

Did you know that famous Colombian singer Alci Acosta honed his vocal skills selling chocolate in Riosucio? (Home of some of the meanest birds in the world). That’s where we are headed over a three-hour dirt road in the back of a chiva (a pickup with covers and bench seats). It will be nice to have some silence but, no way; Someone turns on a blasting radio station from Manizales. Noise is a definite irritant in Colombia but fortunately I brought along my 5 x 8, super whambo 800-decibal Cerwin Vega alto veces (loud speakers) to act as ample equalizers.

Perniquism’s Grill

By Doug Fergus — February 25, 2015
Poernilp Perniquism owned a small coffee shop on Rednammoc Ave in Nomericemick City. His wife Yazznip was the head waitress. His two daughters Roagun and Wabint were also employed there in various capacities. Besides doing the books Poernilp was also the cook. He had grown a small potbelly from tasting his creations over the three years that the restaurant had been in operation. He loved to cook. He was as happy standing behind the grill as a pig standing in mud or a little boy eating his own buggers or Blindex Quixtoy bending over at the waist to smell his own armpits.
Yazznip and the girls had remained slim from humping plates of food each day. Yazznip looked very good for a woman of her age. Poernilp had fallen in love with Yazznip and her dazzling figure when she was just a cute 18-year-old. She still had the same shape 35-20-18.
Nearly very morning local construction workers would descend on the eatery for breakfast. They would compete for the attention of Roagun and Wabint by making various animal sounds using utensils, napkins and salt shakers, The loudest and most recalcitrant of all was Snerp Zootmilton who would yell out, “Hey Roagie, get a load of these apples…EEEEP, EEEEEEP, Ssigen, ssigen…ZOODN, ZOODN, AHP-AHP-AHP, CORRRRTORDLE! Pre good, huh? Pre good?”
Roagun had come to realize that the only way to calm Snerp down was to try to guess the animal he was currently imitating and often even impersonating.
“Het Snerp, I’ll bet that was a rabbit-toed frog hawk, right?” she would smile.
“Wrong again Roagie,” Snerp squealed with delight. “That was my ’63 Corvair right before the engine ate it comin’ up Floochiman’s Grade!”
Poernilp constantly scanned the dining room, peering out behind the stainless steel counter top and the heats lamps. He watched primarily to make sure none of his rowdy customers got physical with Roagun and Wabint. If any of the boisterous bolides so much as brushed one of his daughters, Poernilp would shout from the kitchen, “Hey Hey Hey! You wanna squeeze tissue go to the supermarket!”
During these explosions Poernilp would spay saliva all over the hot grill in front of him. It would land in tiny beads, dance for a moment on the hot metal then soak into the grilled cheese or the fried eggs, or whatever was cooking at the time. Poernilp would then say to himself, “What the hell. I’m healthy. I take vitamins. I take care of myself. It’s good, nutritious spit….probably do some of these malnourished bums some good.”

Sugar, nutmeg, honey, darling molasses
You make me feel like a million lemon cookies
baking in a 10,000-degree oven.

Cake, pie, maple syrup, paprika, doughnut holes.
When you touch me, I feel like strawberries
are surging through my veins.

Banana pudding, oregano, sugar substitute, vanilla extract
You are such a sweet thing
I bet your heart is filled to the brim with whipped cream.
– from The Song of Poernilp

Trotsky Resurfaces in Miami

SUNSHINE STATE PANHANDLER – Feb 25, 2015
Leon Trotsky, former Commie bigwig believed dead since the 1930s, has
been identified at a Miami Laundromat where he gave a fiery speech on the evils of capitalism and static cling while his boxer shorts were drying. Local authorities, tipped off to his presence by a Ukrainian dryer mechanic, arrived late on the scene missing the wild-eyed revolutionary who had been searching for “a shrimp boat to Managua” earlier that same morning.
“We suspect some kind of commie money laundering operation is in the works,” puffed a detective. “All of the evidence is not in but let’s just say Mr. Trotsky was “washing” more than his shorts.”
Meanwhile in Managua, President Daniel Ortega has condemned the Obama Administration for what he calls provocative intrusions into the perimeter of a sovereign nation. Ortega says the United States has employed mononuclear drone snowplows in the mountainous areas near Estelí where the last reported dusting was back in 1915.
In a curt response, a State Department spokesperson denied any knowledge of drones saying that if any mononuclear devices were sent to Nicaragua it was due to a foul up within the purchasing department over at the CIA.
“We don’t talk and the CIA doesn’t share much information with the FBI or the Administration,” she continued. “The House doesn’t send sensitive information to the Senate and the Pentagon keeps tight wraps on classified documents in its vault. The NSA is concerned as to possible leaks in the IRS and refuses to return phone calls. The CIA does not trust the competency of the FBI and the CIA is afraid that the FBI will micro-manage data and thus expose long nurtured international contacts. That’s how we maintain strict control.”
None of the agencies cared to comment on how and why Trotsky was in Miami, if it fact in was even Trotsky at all. – Small Mouth Bess

Searching for thin, blonde woman named “Pepper”. – Salt Walter, Maher.

Besar stand para beneficiar Pound Local

(Mañana) Producto de la cabina de besos popular en la Feria del Condado eunuco serán donados al centro de detención canina local de acuerdo a Muriel Etchabarron, una gran mujer que quería conseguir su nombre en esta historia
En su quinto año, el stand ha levantado por lo menos $ 100 para varias organizaciones benéficas locales.
De pie junto a un signo que proclama: Fruncido para arriba! Pero mantener sus patas en sus bolsillos “, dice Etchabarron la cabina, y el negocio de besar en general ha tenido sus altibajos durante los 38 años que ha estado en ella. Ella recuerda smoochers abundancia algunas noches, pero una noche cuando salió ocho horas seguidas sin tomar en una moneda de diez centavos.
“Eso fue terriblemente embarazoso, especialmente con el destructor atracado tan cerca y todos esos marineros juguetones sobre. Puede que no seamos Vogue cubre “, sonrió,” pero sabemos cómo implantar una.
“Ese fue el primer año que dimos nuestros beneficios a la población de perros más en Wimpton, la sede del condado y servicio hub real para todo el Valle de La incomodidad”, dijo.
Papeleo recientemente publicado sugiere que cada beso alimenta tres perros o seis cachorros. Dos besos pueden alimentar a un gato por una semana. Los cuidadores necesitan más sustento pero los expertos dicen que pueden ser Provender satisfecho por cerca de seis besos húmedos. La cabina es la apertura de diez horas por día, excepto los domingos. El resto de él ecuación es dependiente sobre el costo de croquetas y sobre el número de animales de compañía de enfriamiento sus talones en la instalación.
Un bromista local, sugirió que el interruptor elenco cabina de besos con los residentes de la vivienda con los animales de asumir el papel de besador.
“La forma en que lo veo,” dijo Zelmo Peones de Molar Pastos, “lo que tenemos ahora es un caso claro de la cola que mueve al perro. Un cambio de personal en el punto de contacto podría cambiar las cosas. Además “, divagaba. ¿Quién puede resistirse al encanto de un perrito caliente? “- Dag Katz