All Entries Tagged With: "Western"
LETTERS
Doth he not suffer the fool gladly?
– Oltorf, Lesser god of the Finn Jasmine Norse
Dear Horseshoe:
The Atomic Pet Waste Projectile that was advertised in your summer issue is a piece of garbage. Not only does in backfire but it leaks. Your recommendations, as usual, suck. I’ll never believe in you again.
Dag Katz
Crested Butte, CO
Dear Mel:
A few years back a friend of mine from Malibu received a lovely set of porcelain designer cat dishes. As one could easily imagine, she cherished them. Well, over the years normal wear and tear dictated the present condition of the remaining set. One saucer broke in Europe and a formal serving dish exploded in Bali. Another piece disappeared while we were surfing in South Africa in 1982. Anyway, I’ve searched the world over for a replacement set to send her. Do you know if any of the Montrose boutiques would carry something like that?
Muffy Floorburn
Telluride
Dear Muffy:
First let me just say that I enjoyed your Festival piece that appears elsewhere in this issue. You have a lot of talent. Want to go to the drive-in come spring? In undressing your correspondence, I suggest you try the animal shelter, Pets-Are-Us or the Cat’s Meow. If all else fails stop by the Salivation Army. Items like this have a way of surfacing there.
Dear Editor:
I must take exception with an article entitled “Presidential Notes” which appeared in your last issue. For your information, Richard Nixon played the electric guitar and not the cello as you repeatedly asserted. In addition, Gerald Ford mastered the triangle while in gym class at Michigan, not while sitting in Congress. While you were correct in your assumption that Jimmy Carter played the harmonica, you were remiss in your failure to mention his love affair with the washboard. It was at a washboard gig that he met both Teddy Kennedy and Walter Mondale in 1973.
The breakdown of Presidents and their musical instrument of choice follows a simple enough pattern. Some 22 Presidents, including Adams, Monroe, Tyler and Lincoln played the violin while another 30 enjoyed the piano. Teddy Roosevelt could really lay down some ragtime. Two played the tuba (Cleveland and Taft) and seven (including Bill Clinton) have chosen the saxophone as their preferred instrument. The only Chief Executive that did not play a musical instrument was Millard Fillmore who was completely tone deaf and spent his brief two-year stint plowing through Hawthorne’s “The Scarlet Letter”, which he inadvertently left behind when driven from the White House. His successor Franklin Pierce could not make heads or tails of the book and subsequently gave it to his sister-in-law for her 50th birthday in 1853.
Thumbellina Etchabarron
Cimarron, CO
Dear Consumer Person:
Let him without guilt cast the first stone, heh? Before you throw your hands up in disgust at the irresponsible fiscal behavior in government you must ask yourself: What is my credit card debt? If Mrs Jones makes $40,000 per year and owes $50,000 to Citibank, she is effectively bankrupt and will never dig her way out of the hole into which she has fallen.
Deficit spending. Tighten your belt.
Credit card abuse is one-way street and a deadbeat is a deadbeat. You have to be a standup person. It is not a good bet that you will win the lottery and Jesus will not pay off your credit cards for you down the road, no matter what they’ve told you.
Stop pointing the finger and wake up before it’s too late!
Arthur C. Mothchild
Pimpco Brokerage and Grill
Geneva
To the editor:
Recently a Hashishistani Prince was neutered to keep the family out of power. Although seen as somewhat rash in some circles it was swift and effective and kept quarrelsome tribes from collective throats. The media coverage however, was deplorable with only the alternative press in attendance.
Now instead of a royal ascendancy they have a peasant’s paradise where everyone gets to be in charge of everything for at least one full day during his/her lifetime.
Perhaps we should try it here too.
Everett Throckmorton II
Ditch Warlock
Downtown Delta
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New Craze on Left Coast: Food Pornography
(El Lay — Eats Beat — December 7, 2016)
Connecting food to sexuality is certainly nothing new although the secondary phases of naughty grub are sure to unclog those arteries. Sensual foodies here in Southern California have gone beyond the traditional impish elf or wayward nymph, blending fantasies like whipped cream and chains with champagne, caviar and even pineapple upside down cake.
Karma Sutra take note. Murals and billboards offer delicious cuisine with a sexual overtone: If you eat this…Depictions of naked persons in Jell-O molds are passé when one considers to options open by combining simple erotic play with the diversions of the surreal. Dreams about chocolate cake. Dreams about that attractive man or woman at the grocery. Dreams about many chocolate cakes and that attractive person in bed?
Peeks through these doors, inadvertently left open in a rush to the boudoir or the kitchen table. A tenderloin bed of passion. The throes of bondage, airbrushed and served aflame on skewers over wild rice. That second helping of shimmering gelatin. A salmon on ice. Broiled zucchini in its kinky, phallic state. Vodka martinis striped down to pure buff.
These are the images that leading chefs don’t want you to see.
Just last night at Sarah Finn’s Cafe (in the hills of Oakland) diners marveled at the nightly specials. Seafood displaying brash, slutty behavior, served in a sea of tepid and provocative hollandaise sauce, dripping with low fat yet corporeal glamour, doting on the asparagus spears.
(If this amorous appetizer did not arouse the desire of those already in their seats, the dancing caramelized sweet grass did the trick. Seedy, semi-literate, food bloggers recorded their own particular perversions all over the bathroom walls).
Now the debauchery threatens to spill out into the streets of Los Angeles. Decadent Serrano hams in the window, cleavage evident, enticing the passerby, cobblestoned on the aromas, stairways up to Never Mind land in the upstairs hideaways…al fresco or under the sheets?
“It’s all the way it looks on the plate,” said one chef wearing no more than his mother gave him. Mashed or whipped? Succotash on the first date? Look at them poke chops! Pardon me but with another glass of wine your cherished rice pilaf may be in a compromised position. And then there is the food sculpture. Young and innocent rhubarb bore for all to see, indecent cutlets, racy rye muffins, beaten eggs, twice baked…More later as we find more adjectives.
– Melvin Toolini
“Why then are we soft in the middle when the rest of our lives are so hard?” – Paul Simon
Dreams are your brain’s car wash
with Dr Efram Harbinger PhD, BFD, LSMFT
Do you ever wake up in the morning with the distinct sensation that someone has hooked you up to a garden hose, pouring constant streams of water into your ears and sinus cavities? Do you sometimes feel like a storied bass on the hook? Not to worry. This is normal, whatever that may suggest in your tiny, often frightened little reality.
For centuries scientists have chased after lingering data as to how and why the brain works in mysterious methods. Yes, dreams are nature’s carwash. Flushing it out during the night often results in a clearer understanding of daylight schedules and a more focused approach to life. Just go to sleep and your mind will do the rest. You will awake nice and clean for coming endeavors, including romance, which benefits from a good scrub every so often.
The phenomenon does have its limits. Dreamers are responsible for their own under carriage maintenance. Streaking windows are a no-no. Vacuuming up brain cells s optional. Always fall asleep with frontal hardware securely in neutral. Aliens: Watch those antennas!
Embracing alpha state is a passing fancy for many of us. A clean brain allows easy access and departure from trite, harmful or unnecessary drifts.
Take the classic dream where the dreamer imagines he is flying: He soars above the bed looking down unable to attach to anything. Secondly: Consider the common nightmare wherein the sleeper struggles to free himself from a rising water reverie. In both of these scenarios we see clear connections to the car wash postulate. Both could signify a desire for more freedom and less restraint. Both might indicate a need for more control of one’s emotions. Of course both could simply mean one needs to get up and hit the can before he wets the bed.
Persons who constantly dream without correct and professional supervision run the risk of going completely mad. Delusional beliefs that one can contain collateral damage or successfully plow through the endless data, collected in just one night, is no more than destructive fantasy. Don’t take chances with your brain. It is the only one you have. Make an appointment today and let’s chat about your mental alacrity.
December 6, 2016
Ruthie Roosterson Passes
(Wimpton Acres Homestay Obituary Roundup December 4, 2016)
Steadfast proofreader Ruthie Roosterson left this world this morning for greener pastures. The loyal spell checker and grammar stalwart predates all computer programs aimed at achieving perfection on the printed page. The cause of death was determined to be natural and due to complications regarding her age. She was 119.
An avid tennis player up until the end Roosterson knocked back three sets just last Saturday before closing the bars that night. On Sunday she won first-place at the Cedar Creek Demolition Derby and prepared ribs, spuds and corn-on-the-cob for 400 hungry fans at her remote Pea Green worm recovery center.
Roosterson was the first and only proofreader even employed by the Horseshoe, finding an estimated 400,000 typos, misspellings and miscalculations over that span. It was some time during those 40 years that Ruthie lost her sight altogether succumbing to complete blindness in 1987.
“Even stone-blind, the woman missed nothing,” said employer Kashmir Horseshoe. “It was uncanny, even paranormal but she got the job done and still had time to water the plants and take out the trash. They don’t make ‘em like Ruthie anymore.”
The paper now finds itself engaged in finding a replacement but until then readers are asked to do their own proofing. Employees at the Horseshoe will continue to produce mounds of worthless copy in a playful attempt to challenge the potential projected permanent proof person.
“We are looking for somewhat who is literate and younger,” said Horseshoe, acknowledged as The Hero of Bloated Oaks. “We prefer someone with roots in this valley who will stay on longer.”
Roosterson is said to have regularly consumed a case of Mexican beer during her heralded 10-hour work shifts. A high point in her life came as she won $1500 in a slot machine at the palm-infested Moapa Bowl then gave the money to the Nevada Butane Society. A career smoker she puffed away up until her death when the coroner was forced to remove a filter tipped Lucky from her lips before pronouncing her deceased.
Fellow employees who have taken to sleeping with their dictionaries will miss Ruthie’s smile and quick albeit sordid wit. Her ashes will be spread over the local library during cocktail hour on Friday.
– Small Mouth Bess
Residents Warned on Second Hand News
(Ridgway, CO — Unreliable Sources on Parade — December 3, 2016)
Public health officials here have issued a warning as to the dangers of inhaling second hand news accounts.
It has long been believed that facts, secrets and rumors floating along earth’s atmospheric wall were harmless, but new tests show that physical and mental damage often occur from prolonged exposure to indirect information and whispers meant for others. Sometimes these experiences can be fatal at least in the sense of logic and good taste.
“Although logic and good taste have taken a backseat with recent political upheavals we can still use these parameters to determine personal freedoms as compared to verbal intrusions and primal screams,” said Arnolt Worde, a semantic technician and survivor of America’s public schools.
The health people recommend avoiding exposure to secondary news especially in unventilated areas such as saloons and town meetings.
– Sue Nammi
