All Entries in the "Soft News" Category

Turn in your neighbor program “going well”.

(Spring Creek Mesa – Colorado – January 10, 2015)
A pilot Security Task Strategy (STS), new to the Western Slope, is succeeding say authorities here. The pseudo-controversial “turn in you neighbor” program, instituted just last July, has already netted 200 arrests and the detainment of another 1000 suspects, bringing a slew of brand new criminals into police data files.
“We are making great strides in the family quarter where children have been encouraged to snitch on their parents,” said an anonymous spokesperson for a glut of law enforcement agencies. “Someday we’ll see leagues of these little patriots willing to betray family and friends for the betterment of the compliant.”
The control model follows the patterns developed in totalitarian scenarios all over the world. It allows informers to “keep their hands clean” and remain unidentified even when the most outlandish accusations are on the table. Sometimes financial rewards are in the mix as well.
“If our cruiser charts indicate anything, it is that people seek to be controlled, to be told what to do,” said Dr. Edward Despot, professor of autocratic philosophy at Police State College of Shavano. “The system can show leniency to one who stands firmly on the good guys.”
It comes as a surprise how eager many persons are to disregard the petty loyalties and embrace a system that keeps them safe in their homes after dark.
“It would be like me telling you we just arrested the House of Representatives for violating the Georgia sodomy law, which was recently upheld by the Supremes & Their Quart,” said Despot. “Kind of like getting caught in your own possum trap. Kind of like stepping in it, heh?”
Detractors and people who resist what they call “heavy-handed manipulation by the authorities” disagree.
“A strong analogy emerges,” they contend, “when we look at citizens who require state and federal assistance just to survive, due to limited choices and slave wages paid by highly profitable corporations. Who do you think subsidizes these immoral acts that go on in our sacred plutocracy? We arrest the poor, play plea bargain games, put them in jail and then parole them all on the taxpayer’s tab.”
“Why do we, as a society, need policing?” Despot asked. “Because we are all part of the criminal element and chaos would loom without control. There will always be the malcontents that say the system is rotten. Let them get their own system,” he quipped.
“With the termination of debtor’s prison and the workhouse there is no longer profit in busting the indigent. Even our federal benefactors know that. If we want to continue earning big black pickups and assault vehicles we had better locate and harass the uncooperative and those tangled up in the quicksand of personal freedoms,” said the professor.
– Kashmir Horseshoe

Elmer Fudd Fathered My Child!

By Muffy Hollandaise – San Juan Horseshoe – December 27, 2014

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One Saturday morning I was nursing a hangover that might have measured 160 on the Richter scale when all of a sudden he was in my living room. The Bugs Bunny Show had always seemed real to life for me but this was magnified 1000 times! He looked quite a bit taller than on TV and I was impressed with the way he carried himself. After a Bloody Mary or two we were friends.
But as it is with all men — he was out for one thing and one thing only! Yes, it’s true I was born at night but not last night. Star or not I stopped him short. At least I think I did – and disappointed with my lack of passionate response he disappeared back through my television screen.
Nine months later another Elmer Fudd look-alike appeared on the scene after a costly hospital bill. Paternal suits are one thing but no one believes me. Surely Elmer Sr. (I named the baby after his father) has the money to help me out.
Avoid these pitfalls by reading sanjuanhorseshoe.com and find out what you can do to protect yourself from undesirable acquaintances, annoying pen pals, jerkwater solicitations and unwanted advances from cartoon characters out on the make. When our readers are molested in any way we are quick to send a team of mad, burly advisors to the perpetrator’s front door for a chat.
It’s all included in the package. Control the senseless verbiage that enters your brain and you’ll be chanting, “If I could read, I’d read the San Juan Horseshoe” too. If Muffy had been paying attention she’d be out roller-skating in the desert instead of staying home breast-feeding a needy cartoon.

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Quality of Rum to Improve

(Latino News Briefs – Montrose, Colorado – December 27, 2014)
Baby steps to normalization may allow outcast, quality
Cuban rums to grace American palates, grab share of market

(Havana) A warm-up or meltdown in United States–Cuba relations may signify overdue diplomacy to some but more likely recall a kaleidoscope of petty Cold War events, center stage since Fidel Castro was rebuffed by Dwight Eisenhower during a post-revolution trip to Washington in April of 1959.

An end to a 50-year economic embargo and the reestablishing of embassies is just a start to what experts say threatens to redefine Cuba and crush what has become a self-sufficient, yet fragile culture. Big changes are in store, some good, some not.
One of the big ones is the presumed availability of exotic Cuban rum, acknowledged as the best in the world. It is a development that would most certainly cause the quality of rum to improve here in the U.S.
Following an Obama Administration announcement that the two countries will seek a normalization of relations a bevy of Presidential pretenders and self-serving politicians let out a howl. It was the same howl that we heard after the overhaul of the Immigration Policy, or following the implementation of Obamacare, or the bail out of General Motors, or the murders in Bengazi, or the choice of a White house dog, or the fashion and manners of the President’s daughters, or the First Lady’s attempts to promote healthy diets in schools, or elusive birth certificates, posh vacations or the employment of executive privilege…or Jimmy Carter’s return of the Panama Canal to Panama in 1977 for that matter.
Now happier howls are resounding over the likelihood of access to Cuban rums previously banned in the United States. It could easily be argued that this previously illegal sugar-cane concoction might soften the response from even the dead-in-the-wool Cold Warrior.
“Every quality anejo rum has its genesis in Cuba,” said a Miami purveyor of exotic cordials and elixirs, “and has since 1539 when a royal order of Spain formalized rum production. “All of the Nicaraguan rums first originated in Cuba while most rums from other Central American countries draw recipes from that island nation. Although it is often more difficult to corroborate, most fine rums found in Colombia and Ecuador trace their origins to Cuba too. Many of the wealthy Cuban exiles would prefer to lose the tag “Cuban rum” due to a class distinct distaste for the current government on the island but the first drops derive from Cuban heart and soil.”
Mass-produced rums may now go the way of the dinosaur like Communist vodka and a slew of sage-based frontier sweet wines that all but disappeared from American shelves of following the French Revolution.
Critics of the recent diplomacy say a warming of relations vindicates what they call an immoral government in Cuba. Isn’t this like the vindication of China, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Turkey, and Wall Street for humanitarian offenses in the light of trade entitlements.
“The practice of ignoring the fox in the henhouse while stealing pies cooling in the window must terminate if we are ever going to get along on this increasingly crowded planet,” offered Jane Jane, of the Baseball for Rum Coalition, which endorses the importation of Cuban rum to the United States and the establishment of a National League baseball franchise in Havana. “Most politicians here are far more interested in personal fortunes rather than solutions,” she stressed.
Another angle suggests that the Cubans do not want us. Already the government there has taken steps to protect Cubans from destructive mass marketing and Yankee strip malls. Meanwhile America’s corporate bullies drool with the prospects of new markets open so near our borders.

 

Che lines up a putt in Havana in 1962

 “Ours is a fragile culture honed in the shadow of the embargo, the necessity of manufactured car parts and prevalent food shortages, drenched in tropical sunshine and the whiff of a smooth cigar,” said Wanton Perez, a spokesman for the Coconut Alliance in Santiago de Cuba. “We must take inspired steps to protect the Cuban people from the menace of mindless strip malls and death food consumerism.”

In a show of sincerity Cuba will donate a mature King Palm tree to the White House lawn while President Obama is sending his old Toyota sedan to Cuba.
“Most Cubans are not familiar with these newer, computerized, fuel-injected engines, but given a few weeks they will figure it all out,” said Perez. “Let’s face it, the lines on one of these boxy models just don’t stand up to a ’57 Chevy or a ’58 Buick.
Regarding the King Palm gift Perez expressed hope that the tree would survive cold Washington winters.
“I guess nobody thought of that,” she smiled. “But what’s most important is to take things one day at a time and with moderation. The Cuban people want goods and services for so long denied them. This silly squabble must end. America must move on into the 21st Century. Saludos! God help our integrity when cruse ships call. “ – Kashmir Horseshoe

Gov’ment warning placed on fast food

(Montrose)—December 12, 2014) The United States Food and Drug Administration has extended a warning as to the consumption of fast food within its sovereign borders. The caution advisement, a major breakthrough according to consumer protection advocates, states simply that eating this type of food will lead to health problems, shortened life span and massive weight gain.
“We may just as well drop the “s” from fast food and call it fat food,” said Melvin Toolini, of the USFDA. “In addition to the health caveat most of us here are also concerned with uniformity and laziness within our population. We see people acting as robots, sliding into drive-throughs, repeating their behavior, feeding their kids this crap,” aid Toolini. “It’s a law that children must wear seat belts because they are deemed too young to make their own decisions with regards to life threatening situations. What do you call eating this product?”
Consumers will soon see printed warnings on cardboard packaging, chicken buckets, and wrappers. If they choose to eat the stuff anyway the gov’ment is off the hook.
“What will we do with all the veteran fast food junkies when they get old and the effects of their diet start coming back on them?” posed Toolini.
It is unlikely that this development will have any immediate affect on the eating habits of the country over the long run social scientists and nutritionists feel it may cut back on health problems associated with poor eating habits. One critic of the plan, a population control advocate, condemned the warnings as another ploy to keep people alive longer.
“We have too many people now,” said a spokesman for Eat Yourself to an Early Grave. “And we have too many warnings out there. What ever happened to the concept of natural selection and the strong surviving the weak. It’s even in the Bible. A greasy taco or a chicken wing from hell are great population control devices.”
Another opponent of the campaign suggests that the gov’ment has embraced the concept of fast food as a method of repression and containment.
“Elements within that framework have been experimenting with mind control for decades,” said another unreliable source. “It only stands to reason that encouraging uniformity and repetition will create a population that can no longer make choices when confronted with the big picture. It’s a bullet-proof concept. Why would the feds abandon this philosophy in favor of public benevolence?”
– Fred Zeppelin

A SOMEWHAT BEAT NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the castle
Not a hep cat was stirring
It was just too much hassle.
(Most of us had been down at Golden Gate Park all day diggin the music and were too wasted .)
The stockings were flung on the floor and the chair
Grab me my pants, there’s a party somewhere.
(Despite chronic fatigue the cat upstairs was making some kind of racket but soon he’ll be cool since his woman gets off work by seven.)
The horn men were nestled with notes in their heads
While visions of reefer waltzed with second hand threads.
(Word of the street has it that the North Beach Good Will has just received a new shipment of duds, the kind afforded by unemployed jazz musicians.)
And momma come home to see all this crap
She settled his brains and I don’t hear no rap.
(As expected the lady upstairs arrived home at the usual time and found her man engaged in extra-curricular diversions with an assortment of new friends. A gunshot. Another.)
When out on the highway there arose Dharma batter
The straights cruised on by engulfed in their chatter.
(Why do you want to show up to work everyday when there are places in this very galaxy that you have never been?)
Away to the window I flew like jack flash
Pulled down the Venetians, securing my stash.
(I wanted to see if the cat upstairs was alive or dead but I thought I’d better hide my stash before the North Beach Gestapo started asking a lot of questions.)
The moon and the rest of the ash-ridden snow
Convinced me that midday was too late to go.
(This place is nowhere. With a little luck and the right boxcar I could be in Mexico City for the New Year.)
When what to my wandering mind should appear
But San Francisco’s finest from the front and the rear.
(Somebody in the building must have called up the heat when they heard the shots. They were everywhere, responding in their noted Zen vigor in this neighborhood infested with home sapiens of the discarded variety.)
At my door an old sergeant, with stick of the night
I can’t wait till morning…it’s exit…stage right!
(My duffel bag lay packed in the corner. Once on my back it was out the door leading me to more tolerant horizons.)
More rapid than accurate I headed uptown
Grabbed a bus for the freight yard and waited around.
(The midnight train ride down the coast to LA would be a cold one but I could sleep on the beach in Santa Monica in the morning.)
A weathered old brakeman called out in the rain
If you’ve got ample dollars you’ll be riding this train.
(The tired, old drunk wanted some bread for letting me ride the boxcar. I promised him some Mexican grass and offered him a hit off my Thunderbird and, cursing, he wandered off.)
As wilted, dry leaves before hurricanes fly
I am one with the boxcar, fused to the Pacific sky.
(Finally headed toward Southern California, I polished off the wine and fell asleep despite the chill and the cold metal floor.)
So up through the mountains cola coursers they flew
With a cargo of nothingness as their time clock punched two.
(We hit the Coastal Range in the middle of the night as the full moon made another cameo appearance.)
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The brakeman, another…resenting my spoof.
(The railroad cops didn’t appreciate my travel arrangements for the evening and when we stopped at Salinas they tossed my ass off the iron beast and into an unlikely Christmas Eve.)
As I brushed my self off and was turning around
Down the tracks dragged a hobo not making a sound.
( I had just seen this bum down in the Tenderloin last week. He was snoring away in a skid row hotel lobby, too drunk to make it up the stairs to his two-dollar flop.)
He was dressed all in rags from his head to his foot
His clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
(A bad dream Kris Kringle in the freight yard of America’s last brush with authentic culture?)
His meager belongings he had thrown in a sack
He smelled like a junkie and let out a hack.
(His personal hygiene didn’t improve with closer proximity.)
His face was one wrinkle, all haggard and hairy
He clung to Wild Roses and a jug of sweet sherry.
His droll, little mouth was drawn up like a bow
The fuzz on his chin as gray as winter So-Ho.
He rolled up two skags, “To you I bequeath”
The smoke pouring out from his cave on no teeth.
(The cat had played out his future in baggy pants and shoes force marched through an alcoholic haze.)
His poker face deluded, a bad loser still game
He choked when he spoke but he spoke just the same.
Uncapping his prize he delivered a belt
And I grabbed for the bottle, in spite of myself.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Out there in hell’s freight yard the hobo dropped dead.
(Time had run out for this earth-bound angel who had never spent Saturday mornings mowing his lawn in the suburbs or driving kids around in a new Ford Station wagon.)
I picked up his dreams, locked tight with no key
Next stop: Potter’s Field for this snarled refugee.
(A watchman helped me cover him and called the cops. There would be no heartbroken relative to identify him, no one to cry at his grave.)
Then catching the time, I watched for a freight
Skillfully boarding, make LA by eight
Back on a boxcar, I slept on my duffel
Agonized at the thought of that wino’s last shuffle.
But desolation’s despots on angles take toll
One long ago Christmas deep deep in my soul.
– Paradise Stolen, 1959

STATE TO JERKY FALL COLORS

Special to Western Colorado newspapers – Nov 28, 2014
(Denver) In an attempt to stretch the dramatic fall colors far into November state officials have implemented a plan to jerky aspen, oak and cottonwood trees still in their splendid state. Already teams of botanists have been busy in an attempt to isolate and expedite the most effective formula for the approved extension.
“First we’ll focus on the aspens since they are far and above the most popular with autumn tourists,” said Melvin Toole who holds a third degree in Popular Venison Culture from Cal Amari. “The oak and cottonwood are far less fragile and we think we can jerky them later in the month and still come up with a hardy supply that may last through Thanksgiving.”
The process of jerking the fall colors involves a lengthy drying process which has been proven to extend the life of other entities such as wild game and the terms of Congressmen. Aspen leaves in particular conform to the rigid properties necessary for the current jerk thinking.
“We have experimented with canning and applied freezing since the Sixties,” says Toole. “What’s important is to harvest the chosen leaves and introduce them to our methods before the natural process takes hold. Rest assured that we have gone to great lengths to protect the birds and fury little animals who call the trees their homes. They have until tomorrow to evacuate.”
Even though leaves and most bark samples are void of nutrition many desperate people tend to eat them come February or March when other supplies have been exhausted. Unlike leaves from tree farms, where an assortment of fertilizer and additives are employed, these wild trees offer supplement-free leaves, roots and bark.
“Many mammals enjoy a diet comprised of mountain vegetation throughout the winter. We plan to test the jerky on herd animals, state prisoners and even fish before the snow falls,” said Toole. “We’ve already turned the bear on to the spicier blends and they liked it…of course they’ll eat anything that one leaves lying around.”
Residents and visitors are asked to stay clear of jerky operations until the end of the month when the Department of the Interior will join state agencies in presenting an open house to further explain their priorities. For a map of the more concentrated jerky operations contact the gov’ment agency of your choice.
– Small Mouth Bess