All Entries Tagged With: "Silverton"

Jack’s Cabin Now Real Estate Office

(Almont) It had to happen. With nearly half the storefronts in nearby Crested Butte hanging a real estate shingle Jack’s Cabin had to follow suit. Years ago the place was a supply depot with a store selling everyday items to real people. Now with the emergence of the resort economy it’s hard to find much more than smiling land primps and kinky sandwiches in the former coal town.

Appearing in a tasteful greenbelt and white shoes Jack was careful to clarify his status in the progression of rustic cabin to modern office building.

“I’m not getting any licenses except a cow tag,” he smiled. “I’m just leasing the place out. What else could I do…sell sneakers to the tourists? I tried selling stoves but the county passed an ordinance against them. I tried T-shirts but everyone already has enough of them. This real estate scam was my last gasp.”

Jack admitted that he was behind in cabin payments and that the bank was looking at a repossession as early as December. This disclosure added confusion to the transfer since he had been living there for about 100 years. Over 40 home equity loans since 1948 appears to be the culprit.

“I thought they’d (the bank) rent out the place,” he quipped, “and be the first lending institution in this part of the valley but they said there were not enough windows or parking.”

Until he finds affordable housing Jack will hold up in a trophy trailer out back of the cabin.

DO FISH HAVE SOULS?

Reflections by Rev. Phil Pharisee

Many of you have asked: Rev. Phil, do fish have souls? Well, haven’t you ever heard of filet of sole. Ha Ha. Listen, brothers and sisters, I haven’t a clue. My sermon this week is about drive trains and sluggish transmissions but I’ll give it a whirl.

Here’s the hook: If earwigs, flies, spiders and prairie dogs have souls why wouldn’t fish be equally equipped?

Just because they are cold-blooded doesn’t mean they cannot go on to another life. Should we eat them? Why not? They don’t care. Once they’ve been caught they’re pretty much washed up anyway. Bear eat them and so do a lot of other animals. It’s all part of the food cycle, much like our own processed frozen food aisles.

Actually fish have it petty easy just so long as they aren’t gobbled up by other fish. While spawning is immoral laying eggs is perfectly all right. Catching trout with a license is ridiculous. They like worms and salmon eggs far better. Should you use a boat? Sure, just as long as you do not entertain obscene thoughts out on the lake. Walking on the water is out, at least for now.

The other night when I was in conference with you know who he told me, “Chill, Phil. I can really get behind the people who help themselves and don’t bother me with all their petty problems, their mindless situations. There’s just too much doing onto one and other without facing the consequences. The hot seat is in store for a lot of them who think they have secured a first class ticket going up. I think another Spanish Inquisition would clear the air…”

Candid enough. So fish do have souls. Now tickle that collection plate and get on with life. You folks in the first pew now shall be in the back of the bus later. The tweaked will inherit the earth. Adieu.

Colona Wins Slogan Contest

(Hwy 550) The non-town of Colona has claimed a $50 prize in a prestigious national slogan-writing contest sponsored by the Billboard Diplomacy Enrichment Trust. Colona’s entry “Welcome to Colona – Leave Us Alona” brought down the house as judges were beside themselves to decide on a winner and write the check.

“It’s rare to see an entire community get behind an effort like this,” said a BDET source.

Residents in the small Rocky Mountain town plan to get together and vote on whether to use the money to pave two dirt streets within the confines of the settlement, which does not technically constitute a town since it has no post office, fire hydrants or local government of which to speak. The meeting has been scheduled for April of 2018 when “everyone is not so busy”. In the meantime the yet to be endorsed $50 check will be kept in a safe in the old slaughterhouse facility adjacent to the abandoned grocery next to where the railroad depot once stood.

Washington puede cambiar el nombre

(Seattle) Nada en contra de George, pero el estado de Washington está considerando seriamente un cambio de nombre. Preocupados por la asociación negativa con el otro Washington, más contaminado, los líderes del Estado de Evergreen lograron obtener la propuesta en la votación de noviembre.

Entre las ideas para un nuevo nombre se encuentran Columbia, Cascade, Olympia, Chinook, Rainier y Yakima. Un grupo escindido de otro grupo escindido que busca unirse a Canadá, ha propuesto nombrar al estado Juan de Fuca, en honor a un explorador español que reivindicó el actual Washington por España en 1775. Los críticos dicen que ese nombre abriría la puerta a todo tipo de chistes de color.

Situado en el noroeste de los Estados Unidos, lejos de las costas del Potomac, Washington podría llevar a cabo este osado golpe. En el momento de la publicación, parece dudoso que los Estados Unidos, que ya están en sus caderas en medio de enredos extranjeros, envíen tropas para sofocar las interrupciones semánticas.

“Primero pensamos en la secesión total, pero no funcionó tan bien en el sur hace 140 años”, dijo Abraham Grande-Coulee, autoproclamado patriarca del movimiento. “Entonces pensamos en unirnos a Canadá pero son tan británicos, con la Reina y todo, ya sabes. Nuestro contingente irlandés-americano nunca iría por eso. Finalmente se acordó que nos quedaríamos donde estamos. un sentido político y una distancia lingüística de los imperialistas en la costa este “.

Grande-Coulee pasó a expresar su preocupación de que los pueblos de otras naciones puedan confundir el montañoso y boscoso estado de Washington con el plano y estéril Washington DC.

“En los días de un planeta cada vez más pequeño, no necesitamos ese tipo de imagen de relaciones públicas”, dijo.

Las fuentes federales dicen que esperarán y verán un acercamiento al desarrollo a pesar de los temores de que otros estados “en riesgo” puedan unirse a la refriega. Ya Nueva Jersey, Nuevo México y Dakota del Sur han expresado un interés pasajero en un cambio de nombre.

“Podemos entender que la gente de allí quiere su propio nombre y no algo que ya se haya tomado”, dijo el Senador Oral Noise (Unitarian-MA).

“Para algunos parecería que el nombre de Washington fue elegido como una ocurrencia tardía, por así decirlo. Tal vez se decidan por Jefferson. Fue amable”.

– Melvin O’Toole

ANOTHER LATINO WALL STORY

(Ed note: In the following segment the reader may notice different sounds accompanying different flat tires. This could have to do with the blazing hot asphalt or maybe it’s what I remember the sounds to be.)

My Chevy pickup died in Galveston. It sounds like a country song but it was real. I had driven down here to go to the wedding of a good friend and the truck, which had been so reliable in the past, suddenly had turned on me.

There was nothing left to do but stick out my thumb in the muggy Texas heat on lovely Interstate 10. I quickly got a ride in a semi to the town of Gonzalez where Willie Nelson just happened to be having a party. It looked like a pleasant detour especially when I saw the line-up of Ernest Tubb. Kris Kristofferson. Rita Coolidge, Jerry Jeff Walker, Leon Russell, Ray Wiley Hubbard, George Jones plus Willie and Waylon Jennings and more.

After two days of beer, blood and music I left Gonzalez and headed back on the road. In moments a rough 1970 ford Galaxy pulled over. He had a sizzled flat tire and we started talking while he fixed it. His name was Carlos. His family came from somewhere in Sonora and he lived in San Antonio where I had hoped to stay for the night.

With the tire repaired we headed west. I had noised that all the other tires (Carlos had no spare of course) looked like prophylactics. Soon, from my shotgun seat, everything appeared in order but that was not to be.

“Pop!” There went the rear tire on the driver’s side and the car crawled to the side of the road again. “Damn” cursed Carlos who looked at me half laughing and half crying. “I should have brought a spare.

We removed the tire and Carlos went into Sequin, Texas to have it repaired.

“You don’t have to stay here and wait for me,” he smiled.

“Someone has to watch the car while you are in town,” I said.

“Why?” he asked. It’s not going anywhere.”

In about an hour he returned and found me still there. We installed the newly patched tire and went on our way. Before long we were approaching Santa Clara and a distinct wobble began to emerge from under the car.

“It’s just the drive train or maybe the transmission,” said Carlos. “I’m not too worried. We are almost there.”

As the skyline of San Antonio came into view another loud Whop was detected over the blasting radio. Now Carlos was pissed. three flats in 120 miles! We went through the same charade as before with Carlos taking the flat to a gas station on Yucca Street near Artesia.

I waited, keeping an eye out for the many thieves that would love to steal his beat-up wreck with bad tires. He returned in the company of a mechanic he knew from high school who frowned and lent him a spare. We were in San Antonio.

“Do you like enchiladas? he asked.

“Yes, very much I replied.

“Good. We we’ll go to my parents’ house for dinner. He pulled over to a phone booth and called his family to announce he was bringing a guest to dinner.

Arriving at his home I met his mother and father and feasted on chili rellenos, refried beans, fresh tortillas and cheese enchiladas. He told them of our adventures and they stared at him like he was nuts. His mother insisted I eat more and, not wanting to create a negative cultural incident I downed another enchilada. It was now dark.

“I will give you a ride to the river where you can find a hotel,” he said. “This neighborhood is no place for you after dark.”

To my great relief he borrowed his father’s car and drove me downtown to the San Antonio River. In just moments I heard “Where y’all going?” sweetly sang out. That’s when I met two exotic dancers who invited me home, but that is another story.

It was all like a distorted James Joyce novel set in the heat of summer in south Texas. Just like Ulysses it had all happened in just one day.

Bear Utilizing Duct Tape in Forest

Ouray) Local black bear, who are supposed to be asleep, appear to be relying on duct tape to facilitate daily chores and responsibilities in the woods. Animal behaviorists are reportedly alarmed by the development, indicating that the bruins are evolving symbiotically with humans.

“We are concerned as to where this kind of monkey-see, monkey-do action may lead the bears,” said one biologist. “We will be keeping a close eye to the ground on this pattern. Considering what man has done to the natural environment we sure don’t want this one to get away from us.”

Cans of WD-40 and a roll of baling wire have been found near obvious bear redoubts throughout the wilderness, suggesting that the mammals have taken matters into their own paws.

Hikers and campers are urged to take appropriate caution when in bear country.