All Entries Tagged With: "Lake City"
LEVITATIONAL PARKING PLANNED AT CRESTED BUTTE
(Gothic) Instead of spending money to improve lifts, Crested Butte Mountain Resort has erected several new hotels in what was the area’s sole parking lot. Sound silly? Read on.
Officials at the ski area have contracted Snow Guru International, a firm of freelance swamis from the nice part of Calcutta, who claim the capability of successfully suspending automotive vehicles in thin air! These gifted mystics will go to work Thanksgiving weekend and continue to ply their strange trade until the ski area closes in April.
“We figure we have extended our top occupancy ceiling to about 500,000 cars per day considering predetermined air space and a desire to let the sun shine in,” said a marketing source who asked that she not be included in this story by name. “I don’t know how this applies to skier days or if it will even work at all on heavy powder days.”
The source then went on to admit that she had no clue what skier days might be but was quite familiar with powder days.
Across the Elk Mountains, principals in Aspen have been conducting underground tests with levitation and suspension since September. They would not talk to our reporter despite a lot of whining. In Steamboat Springs excess vehicles and skier baggage will be stored on the James Brown Soul Center of the Universe Bridge and skiers will be hauled into town via open-air tuna boat.
Imagine skiing down Jokerville or Twister at Crested Butte and looking up at your car hanging high above the resort silhouetted against the winter sky! What a rush!
“Look mom! It’s our Explorer!”
Parking fees will fluctuate depending on the size and weight of the vehicle with out-of-state skiers getting a sizable break when they purchase a package. Old Volkswagens and beat up pickups will not qualify for the uplifting since the area is concerned with its image and “does not seek to clutter the horizon with a bunch of decaying jalopies”.
In addition to the parking arrangements the Snow Guru International hopes to provide a top-drawer coat and hat check, bonded baby-sitting, a convenient lost and found and a sexy cocktail lounge for people waiting for their vehicles to return to earth.
To date there have been only a few accidents involving reentry and not that many people have been injured by falling cars to date. One such disaster was narrowly averted as a 3/4-ton GMC pickup was inadvertently dropped through the roof of what once was the Alpenhof Cabana, coming to a complete rest in an somewhat unoccupied men’s room.
The service is restricted to vehicles operated by persons with a valid ski pass. No AARP discount will be extended and motorists driving RVs are asked to leave the same in Almont.
“We’re really excited about this concept, said the above secretive marketer. “Now a lot of the tourists will have something else to look at besides themselves parading around in their ski fashions all day. Hell, some might even get motivated and take a few runs or at least a lift ride or two.”
The Crested Butte and Mt. Crested Butte Councils have tentatively approved the plan while BOZO is firmly against, and has always been firmly against, deterring from the laws of nature. Insiders suggest that if CBMR executives will only paint themselves a sweet and sour Victorian purple everything will be alright over at BOZO.
Despite early support by other government agencies, consumers are privately urged to take Alpine Express or town bus up to the mountain until further tests are concluded.
-Barb Wire
Massive Rubber Deposits Authenticated at Snodgrass
(Crested Butte) What might be the largest rubber vein ever detected was unearthed under Snodgrass Mountain near here Friday. The incredible deposit, which local geologists say has been in the ground longer than coal and molybdenum, measures roughly 10,000 acres and stretches into Delta and Pitkin Counties.
Surveyors mapping Snodgrass for yet another proposed ski are expansion scheme say the “ore” is of extremely high quality and is rarely found near coal or silver in this vicinity. They expressed surprise that so much of the valuable commodity was just lying around on the ground near the portals.
“Upon further investigation we discovered massive caverns whose walls were carved out with pure rubber,” said one surveyor. “Sushi quality rubber. After roaming through these perfectly symmetrical hallways, tunnels and caves nobody much wanted to survey anymore. We were all having too much fun bouncing off the sides of the cavern and collecting specimens.”
As might be expected the announcement sent shock waves through the mining industry. Pay-Max, a giant mining company with many local molybdenum claims quickly sent top executives to have a look. Already they are insisting that they retain all rights to Snodgrass and Gothic Mountains, Red Lady and Teocali as well as Crested Butte Mountain, The Bench, Kebler Pass and Lake Irwin. A spokesman for Pay-Max told The Horseshoe that if the strike is “half of what it appears to be” residents should expect to see an assortment of satellite operations on the works by spring.
“Here we sit watching molybdenum prices and someone stumbles across the largest rubber reserves on the planet. It just proves that the rich were born rich for a very good reason,” smiled a fidgety Pay-Max executive, who said he didn’t like high places.
Meanwhile over at Crested Butte Mountain Resort (CBMR) plans to expand anything are at a standstill since one of the cast of corporate thousands reportedly forgot to secure the mineral rights to the Snodgrass-Gothic Corridor (SGC) from the Department of the Posterior (DOP).
“We have one executive director who has nothing else to do but watch the earth move and the snow fall,” said an angry ski boss. “What was she doing? Skiing?”
We attempted to reach the DOP late this morning for a comment on this latest episode but everyone had already gone home for the day.
The ski area plans to fight the mining interest saying that the extraction of rubber from below the surface is not compatible with existing use of the forests. They say the rubber mills alone would adversely affect smooth slopes and ski mansion foundations.
“Consider if you will the detonation of dynamite all day long and the sucking sounds of the heavy machinery used to pull out the rubber ore,” said a ski source. “How did you think they harvested rubber, from trees?”
– Uncle Pahgre
Cruel and Unusual Punishment
Continued from January 18 posting
In our last episode Ma stumbled onto a fool-proof method for keeping her mooching relatives at bay while she is in prison for her sixth DUI. With the help of a cynical prison counselor named Dulles Sharpe she has a plan.
After a week of intense research with applied coaching by Sharpe, Ma was ready to conduct her radical charade. One morning , as she left the prison laundry (shades of James Cagney and Cool Hand Luke in black and white footage here) she bumped into a fellow inmate but instead of acknowledging the accident she flew into a trade about human slavery and losing one’s chains. She was tobacco road eloquent after all the intellectual cramming, and held the attention of a small crowd of prisoners who, granted, had little else to do but listen to her rant, until the guards broke it up.
Ma was escorted back to her cell yelling, “It’s time to end the injustice! It’s time for the redistribution of wealth. It’s time for violent revolution!”
This upset the prison authorities that she repeatedly labeled as racist pigs.
“We cannot tolerate this subversive jargon,” said the warden from his desk. “We will not permit this nihilist from poisoning the minds of our cherished convicts!”
The next day Ma repeated the performance outside in the prison exercise yard. Quoting Marx and Engels she worked the crowd expertly, un-harnessing long-held talent that might have made her a competitive candidate for elected office, a successful preacher or a rousing union organizer. Prisoners and employees listened to her and remarked that she was quite well-read, for an idiot. In moments the guards snapped back to reality, broke it up and hauled Ma to the warden’s office for observation and the application of a little axle grease logic.
The answer, by quorum, seemed clear enough. It was decided that Ma be surgically removed from the general prison population.
It was one thing to have fights in the mess hall or to find the beginning scratches of a escape hole in the floor of a cell. It was another to observe extortion, theft, rape and intimidation – a daily occurrence, but now we had a prisoner who threatened to politicize the entire incarcerated population. One bad apple in a barrel of kinda rehab apples. Maybe she was even one of those communists! It sure sounded like it.
She had been so docile, so stupid but easy to deal with when she first arrived.
Sharpe kept his distance, allowing Ma to explode into tirades about inequality, worker’s utopias and wars perpetrated by the rich. He stayed away when the warden had her transferred out of the general population. They met at the usual times for official counseling but he only tutored her on her next moves. Ma would gain political prisoner status or he would eat his first retirement check.
Meanwhile word of this development had reached Ma’s family who were still scattered around a locked doublewide on the property downtown. Several of her relatives left when they got wind that there might be a bonafide commie in the family. One right-wing cousin lost went ballistic when the rumors of Ma’s links to Joseph Stalin and Che Guevara emerged. They may be low lifes but communism was another whole ball of wax.
Her Uncle Earl and Aunt Polly moved on to annoy an even more distant relative who had apparently come into some money over in Utah. They were slowly distancing themselves from this subversive. Her plan was working.
Most of the other refugees living around Ma’s trailer were beginning to look at other geo-political options. They were concerned about being ostracized although none of them knew them meaning of such a menacing word…illiterate authors of their own destruction.
Still most of the uninvited entourage remained, but they were far less likely to visit Ma in jail now that she was classified a terrorist or even worse…a socialist!
Ma had won round one. Enjoying her easy success in running off the mooch patrol she decided to continue with the disruption, and revved up the burlesque indoctrination of her fellow inmates. Ma had seen enough of this old county jail. She would be spending the rest of her sentence in a federal facility with clean sheets and a view. She had put the object in motion, now she had only to continue the act.
The word quickly got around a shocked Stringtown that Ma was nothing less than a card-carrying Bolshevik, even though the majority of the inhabitants thought Bolshevik was the name of a cherry-flavored vodka that you could buy over in Pinkyville.
A few days after another rousing exercise yard speech two federal agents came to visit Ma in her new digs, separate from the other prisoners.
“You are a disease,” started one of the agents, “A disloyal American. We will forcibly remove you from this institution and squash your attempts to poison the minds of our patriotic American prisoners.
“You will be transferred to Pine Ridge Federal Prison in the next few days. If you choose to continue this political activism there you will be separated from the prison population once again and kept in solitary confinement. You will be inaccessible to your friends, family and society for a very long time. Our advice to you is to shut up and mind your own business. Pine Ridge has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to commies.”
She had won. They all left. In a few days her yard was back to normal. Now that Ma was “inaccessible” there was nothing to take from her. In a touching soliloquy she tried to give her only worldly possession, the trailer, to Sharpe but he had no place to put it or so he said. So she donated it to science…
Just nights after Ma was moved to the federal prison, by heavenly design or hellish coincidence, a large bolt of lightning cracked in the sky lighting up the entire San Juan Range all the way from Ames to Almont. A second bolt provided a direct hit on her dilapidated trailer that night. Of course the place had no lightning rod. Of course she didn’t have insurance. When the fire department arrived they found a black, burned out skeleton with the front door standing wide open.
Nobody had been home at the time of the incident.
ON THE ROAD TO GOOD HEALTH
Dutch Elmo of Irwin breaks trail before dinner
By Doctor Nick “Barnstorm” Moneypenny
SIMPLE AND QUICK HOME EXERCISE FOR MOUNTAIN FOLK
Hello again and welcome to everyone who’s got a leg up on this winter business. Today we will focus on some of the more innovative approaches to basic daily exercise. Many of the devices featured in this article are custom-made for people who reside in our high country. Included will be calisthenics and isometric exercises aimed at firming up physiques that have been beaten up a bit by colder weather and lack of accessibility to summer workout patterns.
Without a doubt my favorite new gizmo is the ICY STAIRMASTER. This conceptual breakthrough allows for the optimum workout, while honing basic survival instincts conducive to mountain living. Produced by Zen Crafters, the Icy Stairmaster works the thighs down to tough-as-nails floss and teaches piqued balance techniques. And it comes with its own water for those of you who find themselves privy disadvantaged.
Rare photo of Jack (of Jack’s Cabin fame) working out those ski legs before making his daily homage to town on glass boards, fighting off carnivorous herd animals along his merry way.
Another effective way to blend daily chores with a regular sweat session is by embracing the Cotton Harris Ankle Weight System. This ultra-edge addition to your wardrobe allows the user to perform a variety of beneficial tasks with a few laps around the block. Other leg improvement devices include the STATIONARY MOUNTAIN BIKE and the FOUR-WHEEL- DRIVE PLATE JUGGLER, radically designed for people who live in small cabins and do not have a proper dining room ensemble. The Stationary Mountain Bike works well when set up with a nice view while the plate juggler is easily stored under the couch, along with accumulated crumbs, creeping dog hair and discarded eating utensils.
And have you seriously considered your presence this summer? There is no excuse for flab with your personal CELLULAR PHONE JOGGING COUNTER. Since the phone is mobile it allows the runner free reign. One can run to the Pacific Northwest one day and Southern Alabama the next without missing any calls. A miniature FAX JOGING COUNTER is on the drawing board and, according to unreliable sources in the tech hype industry, will be hitting the market by spring.
Still yet another great method for combining occupational responsibilities with exercise are SOLOFLEX STEERING WHEEL WEIGHTS, which adapt easily to any driving apparatus, or rpm to wheel ratio. Especially functional during traffic jams and expressions of road rage.
For the winter outdoors enthusiast we can’t help suggesting Syd’s SNOWPLOW TUG-O-WAR TOW BAR STRAP. Although the user will rarely win, the tension creates beneficial stress that will soon be defined by massive muscle growth everywhere but between the ears. Another concept, an indoor one, for the person looking for light repetitions is the incomparable PINE CONE BICEPS CURL TRACKER which is excellent preparation for frisbee, hacky-sack or other non-contact summer sports.
Want to mix your workout with the kinky local scene? Try some weighted wrist straps, popular with creative lovers and crap throwers in training too…and they’re dishwasher safe!
Sally Sabarieux, late of parrot City and Gladstone, shakes her money maker in full Victorian regalia. After cooking for 17, sewing, cleaning, child-rearing, farming, chopping firewood, washing clothes, repairing curtains, building furniture and changing the oil on the family’s henway she damn sure needed a workout, heh?
But keep that chin up and the weight down with UNEMPLOYMENT ISOMETRICS. Exercises that can be done at the spur of the moment, standing in line, sitting on metal chairs, anywhere where there are walls and ceilings.
If we may suggest an anthology which might round these matters up like a sturdy cow pen read Sit-Ups and Shots, the newest offering from whirled clasped libretto gymnast, Racko Gaar Poterpes, Olympic gin runner and former President of Fort Lewis College. To quote Porepes: “We have found that the motivational benefits intrinsic to a simple sit-up, followed by a shot of one’s favorite beverage can be alarming.”
Next time we’ll discuss the advantages of a daily routine interspersing COUNTRYCIZE pop tunes and JACUZZI HYDRO-ROWING MANIPULATORS, crisply revisiting the early strains of the cowboy surfing music rage.
Plot to Assassinate Teocalli Foiled
(Crested Butte) A diabolical plot to rub out populist 13,208-foot Teocalli Mountain has been thwarted by undercover agents here. The agents, operating as is the custom from their warm beds, arrested several Freedonian terrorists and recovered a large cache of single-bolt air rifles and a wheelbarrow full of contraband explosives stashed in a false wall at the Talk of the Town Tavern on Elk Avenue. The bar, long a hotbed of socialization, was not charged in the indictment, although authorities admitted the owner of the janitorial service that discovered the stash looked like an anarchist they once saw on television many years ago.
“We cannot expect people operating a bar that is painted purple to know who has access to exterior wall space,” said a local marshal to federal investigators. “How can I charge them as an accessory to anything! There is no conspiracy here! Now leave me alone or I’ll have your hybrid assault vehicle towed to Wyoming!”
A safe but shaken Teocalli remains in stable, but guarded condition at Maroon Bells Snowmass Wilderness Clinic and is expected to be released later today.
“It is difficult to imagine anyone so twisted that they would attempt to assassinate a 13,000-foot mountain,” said the marshal. “Usually they go for the 14ers.”
Incidents like this one have a strong precedent in Crested Butte, however, as kidnappers grabbed Snodgrass Mountain at Gunsight Point in 1954 and Rosebud Gulch terrorists attempted to drown Matchless Mountain in Taylor Reservoir some five years later.
Perhaps the most disruptive act of coercion took place in the mid-Seventies when the Amax Mining Company attempted to shanghai the seductive, yet illusive Red Lady. A happy ending ensued as members of the High Country Citizens Alliance swat team stormed the Amax redoubt from their stronghold to the north and freed the Lady. In the face of stiff resistance, not to mention the plummeting price of molybdenum, the mineral pirates retreated to their fortified desks in New York City.
– Princess Irm Peawit
The Poker Game From Hell
The following was whispered to me in perfect pentameter by a large black bear that I met in the alley one winter night behind Duckett’s Market in Ouray. Why the bear chose to share the story is still not clear.
Jimmy John Card and pal, Chip McCann
sat at Callahan’s table, dealing out bum hands.
The green felt was honored, a tenderfoot from France
Who brandished fine cutlery and a gun in his pants.
Through shuffles and side bets throats cleared, poker stares
Drinks all around and in the fourth chair a bear.
That was me…the fourth player disguised in a cloak
though my hairy exterior, suspect when I spoke.
But first human misgivings about cheats and bold liars
were confirmed by my chip stack and their gold dust desires.
It started out friendly as the cards came around
and the chatter subsided as the wagers laid down.
It was Card with three aces and the Frenchman with four
that started the ruckus, accusations and more.
Then a blessed distraction of dance hall girl charm
kept the well armed bartender from sounding alarm.
The Frenchman collected while Card bit his lip
and the lady departed with a drink and a tip.
Let Charley sit in, squawked an anxious McCann
Five’s a crowd said the others, poker faces in hand.
I grabbed the deck quickly, calm invited, cards shuffled
crisply, dealing them out, smoothing feathers just ruffled.
This time it was Card who raised up the bets
at each turn he went higher, it was he and I left.
What ya gonna do, bear? chided Card through his cigar
I’m staying I growled. Let’s see the last card.
I couldn’t believe it—Lady Luck’s hand of fate
with the nine of spades down I had pulled a small straight.
You’re cheatin screamed Card, when he saw all the spades.
I stared back at his pistol and death’s felt masquerade.
Now hold on a minute! checked McCann with a stare
This bear here is honest his spades fair and square.
And Card was placated though the loss was a jolt
and under the table he fingered his Colt.
Again cards were delivered and the bets were laid down
Plastic angels with wishes, nothing showin’ but frowns.
The pot’s right, and healthy, let the winner surmise
all the players were drooling at the sight of the prize.
I’ll raise ten said the Frenchman and have no regrets
Hold your horses said Card, the pot’s not quite yours yet.
Card’s hand was one color all diamonds in fact
The Frenchman held three queens, backed up by two jacks.
When the cards hit the table it was Card that first drew
his silver revolver provoking the coup
and McCann pulled his rifle out from under his seat
and fired close range then made a retreat
The bullets dropped Card who had time to react
and his effort on target hit McCann in the back.
The Frenchman then gazed at Gehenna’s plastic treasure
as a bullet tore through him then one more for good measure.
It ain’t me that shot Frenchy, was the bartender’s finger
that pulled the slick trigger—no reason to linger.
The saloon crowd ducked down so the spittoons confide
while I grabbed up the money and made haste for outside
Swiping the pot was not much of a chore
the tin-horn bartender shaking, while he cleaned up the floor.
Three dead men were the bounty, their souls with Old Scratch
and a black bear with money makes quite a nice catch.
I took every penny and bought drinks for my friends
who couldn’t believe I had come to such ends.
Now my fortunate windfall is down to one stack
and I’m hoping that devil don’t want his money back.
– Melvin Toole
