All Entries Tagged With: "Ouray"

VAIL PETITIONS FOR TRENDY ZIP

(Gore Range — Dead Letter News — May 25, 2016)

A conglomeration of business and civic leaders here have petitioned the United States Postal Service for a more glamorous zip code. The group maintains that the current zip does little to reflect the elite, gentile lifestyles afforded by the resort’s well-healed residents.

“Consider for a moment the reaction by our patrons who pay up the wazoo to stay and play here,” said a major executive director of the zip code push. “How would you feel if you dropped all that cash and ended up in a place with a mundane zip code like 81631. It misrepresents everything that we are about in Vail. It makes me cringe when I write that zip on my correspondence.”

Postal officials told The Horseshoe that they have received a written request for the zip change. The petition asks that Vail gets a more fashionable zip like Aspen’s 81611 or even Steamboat’s 80477, one that “exudes the detached, entitled, self-confident attitude so prevalent in Vail.”

The Vail group has expressed interest in purchasing 81435 from Telluride or 81224 from Crested Butte saying that those resort communities don’t deserve such hip zips. Although there has been no response from the two aforementioned, several other communities have come forward willing to sell their zips. Naturita (81422) Sapinero (81247 and Rangely (81648) reportedly could sell if the price was right.

“How does one place a monetary value on five silly number created by some long-dead bureaucrat who probably never ventured east of Pennsylvania?” asked Colona postmistress, Estelle Marmotbreath, who will be relocating to Cahone in July. “it’s like betting on the Broncos.”

The kind residents of Eagle have agreed to allow Vail to use its zip code until the end of the year or until other plans can be formulated. Top executives from the U.S. Postal Service are expected in town for a preliminary look on Thursday. They will be staying at the posh Grand Praetorian Lodge at the taxpayer’s expense. Vail has planned a week of self-indulgent debauchery so as to secure an official hearing in June.

Next time see: “Further Ridiculous Distractions For An Educated Electorate”

– Uncle Pahgre

POLICE REPORT

All statistics point to one striking phenomenon: Crime is on the rise. OK maybe murders in New York and New Orleans are down but there’s still a lot of petty thieves, cheap crooks and sticky-fingered thugs roaming about. The good news is that there are always cop jobs in the paper and fodder for journalists writing silly columns like this one.

A swarm of trash birds attacked several harmless ice climbers just south of Ouray. Police responded and shoed the ravens and their entourage toward Silverton. Nobody was injured but one woman, Emily DesPlants, of Boulder, complained of white stains on her parka. Later the same day police confiscated planet-friendly weapons of mass destruction stockpiled in Box Canyon by militants dedicated to ridding the area of the pests.

Montrose police arrested Zorro DesPlants on charges of menacing and destruction of private property. Apparently the former orchid tender has developed an elaborate plot to cover world trouble spots with Astroturf. At the time of the arrest he was attempting to cover the Bland Valley. He may be charged with mail fraud, attempted blackmail and extortion just for fun.

A Ouray woman DeLuna McQueen was seen attempting to break into a local spa while unclothed. When police approached the suspect she began screaming at them. Police departed the scene only to return hours later to find Ms McQueen quite composed, quietly reading and this time fully dressed. A warning was issued after complaints by local mule deer who were distracted from nightly rounds by the intrusion. Eye witnesses were given a pat on the head and instructed to go back to sleep.

Amelia DesPlants, of Sapinero was arrested Friday on charges stemming from bogus dog obituaries run in a Crested Butte paper. Despite her tearful confession police opted to leave her in her windy trailer until spring. DesPlants is a suspect in acts of vandalism against USA Decay newspaper stands from Cimarron to the gates of Parlin. Moments after police exited Sapinero they picked up the half-brother of their first suspect, charging him with attempts to recapture his youth. According to the arresting officer Warlo DesPlants had dug a large tiger pit across Highway 50 and was hiding in the bushes with a nylon net over his shoulder. He is expected to plead insanity.

Telluride marshals have incarcerated Ruthie Roosterson, formerly Ruthie DesPlants in connection with the theft of a 200,000 square foot trophy home from the Mountain Village. Roosterson, a local cadre chef, insisted she was in Cortez at the time of the heist. A quart-appointed attorney told reporters at the jail that his client would claim political prisoner status and that she may have diplomatic immunity due to the presence of Leap Years.

May 22, 2016

NOAH’S LARK

It is dusk on the proverbial Noah’s ArK. Most of the animals have settled in for the night on the crowded craft that they would call home for some time. It has started to rain. Two giraffes are busy sharing an up-to-the-minute appraisal of the situation.
“Yeah, OK, I see the lions. I don’t think they pose a threat just so long as the rations hold out,” said the first giraffe. “Noah has warned all of the animals that they can be replaced if they exhibit antisocial behavior and even those big cats don’t enjoy water all that much.”
“It makes me nervous nonetheless,” said giraffe number two. “Did Noah really think that he could change instinctual patterns overnight, just because of a little flood?”
“The man is really quite amazing, I think. Here he is building an ark, gathering two of every animal on the planet to assure the continuity of the species after the waters subside,” said the first giraffe.
“It will have to be after we get off this ship,” laughed the second giraffe. “With the overcrowding there is no such thing as romantic privacy. Even the rabbits are abstaining.”
“Well, nobody really knows how long this flood will last so we might as well all get along. What puzzles me is why he chose only one pair of all the other animals and four giraffes,” said the first. “Where are our mates? I’ve searched the entire ship and I think there’s some mistake!”
“You mean you’re not a female giraffe?” asked the second. “This is embarrassing. Noah has been so niggardly with our standing room that I have yet to take a peek. I thought you were a female giraffe with a deep voice or an overactive thyroid. You’re a male?”
“Red-blooded and ready to rock and roll,” smiled the first. “Noah must have two females stashed somewhere. It makes sense that he would carry more than two of us on this nautical roster considering the fact that we are the most attractive and most advanced species and that the entire ecosystem revolves around our poetic abilities to reach into the sky.”
“Yeah, I’ll buy that,” answered the second, “but I wonder where our mates could be?”
A small chimpanzee approached the two giraffes looking for his mate as well. He stopped to exchange pleasantries.
“Oh, I know she’s on board. I’ve already met her,” he said when the conversation got around to the subject of pairs. “She’s sweet and bright but she’s already talking commitment,” he explained. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all that…”
“Quit your bellyaching, monkey,” asserted the first giraffe. “At least you have a mate. We’re both guys and we’d like to take a gander at Noah’s ledger in case there is some mistake.”
“There’s no mistake,” insisted the second giraffe. “Noah knows a good thing when he sees it. He’s just over booked on giraffes. It comes as no surprise to me…”
“That Noah is a few cubits short of a yard,” snickered the chimp. “He’s always hanging near the bow talking to the sky. Some of the birds have talked about going AWOL and searching for land on the horizon. Maybe you boys should join them. Well,” he waved, “I’m off to find my one true love and maybe a few minutes of privacy somewhere on this craft.”
“What an obnoxious fellow,” said giraffe number one. “It’s no wonder Noah only brought two of his species.”
“Enough about the damn monkey!” said giraffe number two. “We need to get to the bottom of this mess before we drift farther out to sea. Here Noah comes now. Let’s ask him about our mates.”
The captain of the arc was happily singing away as the two confused animals approached him. “Zebras are reactionaries, antelopes are missionaries…”
“Excuse me, Noah, we have a bit of a problem here that you might help us sort out,” said one giraffe. “After careful calculation and intense scrutiny we have established that we are both males. Our question to you is whether or not you have a couple of giraffe babes stashed aboard this vessel?”
“What?” screamed Noah. “Two boys and no girls? It can’t be. He’ll scuttle me for sure on this one!”
“Who will scuttle you?” asked the giraffe. “It seems like an honest mistake. Just tell us where you’ve hidden our mates and all will be forgotten,” said giraffe number one.
“Have you ever thought of dating a koala bear or a wildebeest?” asked Noah grabbing at straws. “How about a nice aoudad? They can be very nice companions and are said to be great cooks.”
“What are you telling us?” asked giraffe number two. “Is this some celestial foul-up or are your numbers off?”
“Let me check into it and get back to you,” shrugged Noah. “Do you know how many species I had to gather to pull this deal off? It ain’t easy being a major Biblical character when you are surrounded by such a zoological nightmare.”
Noah disappeared below claiming that he would set things right.
“Why is there only one human on this voyage,” asked giraffe number one.
“One is enough,” laughed number two, now becoming more comfortable with Noah’s ability to correct his mistake. “What I can’t figure out is why he hasn’t swatted those bothersome flies up on the poop deck? This appears to be the appropriate time to save mankind from an eternity of buzzing. I’d do it myself if I could.”
Noah returned smiling a few minutes later.
“I talked to the Boss and he was understanding. This misappropriation has not occurred in any other species,” said Noah. “He is sending a female giraffe over on the supply ship this weekend. It’s quite lucky for you guys that there are any left after the storm and all.”
“Great, said both animals, “but while we’re on the subject where is your mate?”
Noah frowned. “She’s at her mother’s. She hates the water. I told her this was no regular voyage but she’s not one to listen when her mind is made up. I expect she’ll show up as the storm progresses. The only problem now is that we have one too many male giraffes. Which one of you is the better swimmer? Just kidding, boys.”
Noah then shot off again, promising to examine all possibilities by the weekend but reminding the two giraffes that the Boss has clearly stipulated that only two of each species would be allowed on the ark.
“I guess we could always let the lady giraffe decide,” said Noah, “but I’m afraid that might set a powerful precedent for what’s left of eternity.”
“Hey, it’s only Tuesday,” said giraffe number one. “We have until the weekend to come up with a solution. Maybe there’ll be a last minute cancellation,” he flinched.
“Maybe she’ll bring a friend and the Boss will cut us a break,” said giraffe number two. “After all, the world can always use a few more of us.”
“Maybe the rain will quit,” smiled Noah, swatting away a fly.

Kevin Haley

May 19, 2016

Where’s Emmet?

While wandering down Antigua’s cobblestones on the way to Spanish class I wonder at the activity. It’s still early in the morning. The bakeries are buzzing. Citizens hose down the sidewalks. Meats hang in the butcher’s window like birthday piñatas waiting for adoption. Fix-it shops plow through mounds of damaged goods, busy fingers sprinting toward mid-morning breaks with coffee and tortillas.

My tranquil home in Ouray seems light years away. I stop and watch a young woman sew together a pair of ripped trousers. Two doors away someone’s grandfather tests a compact disc player, smiling when he hears the bouncing sounds of salsa. Sure, turn it up…You know you want to. Buenos dias and a smile. Before I reach San Francisco Church another shop door hangs open. Inside a cobbler bangs away at an army of shoes while his infant son watches from a nearby basket.

A brightly painted bus passes spewing diesel and smoke upon each take off. It’s one of countless chicken buses that troll the streets in search of passengers. These trademark transports are derelict school buses, discarded by the folks up north who like their things brand new. Here in Guatemala where quetzals don’t go far, the bus has been born again.

Back in Colorado I was talking to a man who works at the dump, oh excuse me, the landfill, the other day. He asked me about Central America. Says he’s going there after he gets off probation. Public service and all…

Somehow we get onto the subject of trash. The power of suggestion and the odor must have a hand in it. He swats at an almost bankrupt fly, saying he was reading a piece on landfills and the desperate situation facing the country.

A vision of a ghost garbage barge teaming with refuse comes to mind. That image was New York City’s tons of discharge looking for its place in the sun. Bring me your tired, your poor, your throw away society filling up the sea. New is better, ain’t it?
“We’re running out of room,” he says. “The dumps are full of televisions, tires, bottles and furniture. They won’t go away.”

Skeletons of affluence.

***

In Antigua, our neighbor, a thirty-five year old taxi driver named Hector, jacks up his ’64 Chevy to replace a badly dented wheel.

“These streets are tough on a car,” he smiles.

We take his photo next to the car. He asks how much we paid for the camera and is shocked when we tell him.

“But you can buy a throw away model for a whole lot less,” I insert. He looks at me but cannot think of anything to say.

His wife, Iris, is a seamstress. Her small shop next to the tienda is crammed full of well-worn clothing fresh from the United States. Rips and tears and holes and hanging threads greet her each day. Some of the trendy logos are difficult to make out in the shadows of mid-afternoon.

“Well, I don’t know what to say, Barney, if Aunt Bea can’t fix it you’ll have to take it to Emmet,” smiled Sheriff Taylor from behind his desk. “It could take a while. He’s busy this time of the year.”

“Maybe I’ll just buy a new one. Who knows how many slices of bread have been toasted in this one,” said the deputy, looking at the small toaster on the desk.

“You don’t need a new one,” popped the sheriff’s son Opie. “The one you have is perfectly fine. It just needs a little attention.”
He looks at his father, “Pa, don’t we have an extra toaster to lend to Barney until his is fixed?”

“That’s a good idea, son. Why don’t you both take a ride over to the house. It’s in the cellar. Take the patrol car.”

“I don’t know what we’d do around here without Emmet,” said Barney.

“Yeah, a good fix-it man is hard to come by,” answered the sheriff. “I remember when folks had to travel all the way to Mount Pilot to get a radio fixed. Now we have Emmet in the fix-it shop and Gomer down at the gas station. This is really living.”

May 18, 2016

Jai Alia National Pastime For Many

(Corral Gables — The Devil’s Picture Book — May 21, 2016)

The sport of Jai Alai was voted the most popular spectator sport in a poll conducted by gambling interests here. Long associated with wagering and speed, the sport has often been played without an audience with large bets placed on the outcome.

Its rise in popularity is credited in part to the sterling success of casino lacrosse, a perverted version of the old Native sport. Casino lacrosse emerged in Colorado along with limited stakes gambling in the 1990s and legal marijuana in 2013.

Spectator sports rank high in every poll indicating that Americans are becoming even lazier. Preferring to watch rather than participate, a serious indication of lower intelligence, most people felt that watching was less dangerous easier on the individual attention span. Today casinos offer televised matches of the sport for those too lazy or distracted to pick up a hand of playing cards.

– Gabby Haze

Iceberg Hugs Ecuadoran Coast

(Galapagos Islands — South American Cruises — May 16, 2016)

The mammoth iceberg that broke away from the continent of Antarctica continues to drift north. Visible from the city of Guayaquil and from beaches as far north as Canoa and Esmeraldas, it has been described as a “monster whale of white” by eyewitnesses. Traveling along a longitudinal path of about 105 degrees, the giant chunk of rock and ice, despite the Humboldt Current and the treacherous Machalilla Riptides, is expected to hit downtown Los Angeles in time for rush hour on Monday.

The iceberg, carrying an estimated 11,000 penguins (and an alleged assortment of dampened persons dressed like penguins) separated from the mainland near the Walgreen Coast and proceeded into the bowels of the South Pacific. At last report, the almost circular frozen bulk measured 43 by 40 miles but it is constantly losing mass as it journeys closer to the Equator. It is reportedly traveling at about 14 miles per hour in the frigid waters of the South Pacific

Passengers appear to be content to ride the thing out. Undocumented penguins will be subject to immigration laws wherever they land, while legitimate penguins will be returned to their native habitat without incident. The Red Cross has been monitoring the sojourn especially since food and water is a rare commodity on the iceberg.

If the iceberg follows through and crashes into the California coast it will do so with substantial might. Prisons have been emptied with inmates going to work filling sandbags. LA gang members have been recruited to dig trenches as part of public service debts. Yesterday, Octogenarians were seen boarding up windows. One man was observed collecting silk stockings that he insisted would be used to make parachutes. Police and fire departments are telling citizens to “stay mellow”.

Golden State scientists project that either the iceberg will shatter the fragile geologic relationship between California and the rest of the continent, or it will peacefully float into safe harbors, providing the region with much needed water for the next decade.

Nobody has released any further information as to the identity of the penguin vagabonds, currently cruising the high seas. Rescue teams at the Tommy Lasorda Abalone Research Center remain on high alert, expecting a life saving/salvage situation as early as Sunday evening.

– Small Mouth Bess