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Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 3
Hillbillies Seize Bank
tly escorted the corporate bosses to the Perry County line and told them to “scoot”. Although factions of a more radical element in the seizure had planned to use tar and feathers, calmer heads prevailed. The former president and executive officers left “in just their suits and socks” and without their briefcases. They had allegedly hoarded funds, denied secured loans and voted themselves hefty raises while the rest of the town struggled to keep food on the table. “We won’t miss them,” continued Buckmeister. “All they did was adjust their ties, frown at loan applications and play golf.”
Hazard (pop. 4803 without the old bankers) “is better off for its trouble” according to The Hazard Herald, the local newspaper that went on to suggest that the officers had pilfered cash and misappropriated funds raised during the annual chicken festival held every October. The paper stopped short of accusing the officers of embezzlement. An investigation is pending. “Business is up 30% since we took over,” smiled Buckmeister, and we still have a lot of money left, so we must be doing something right.” -Tommy Middlefinger
Ouray DJ Taste Tests Tourists
PSYCHED OUT
Perhaps the most important advantage to be gained from the ethnic and racial hatred is in the field of culinary art. Clannish and ethnic elitism is partly responsible for most of the regional cuisines in a place like China, for instance. How do you think the distinction between Hunan and Szechwan came about? What about Italian food or Soul Food? This is not to imply that ethnic hostilities always result in better groceries. Despite all the problems they have created over the years the British, somehow, were not blessed with cuisines of their own, so they stole one from the Irish. Another benefit of regional hatred comes in the form of a boon to the flag business. The more different warring factions in the field the more flags are sold. In 1992 alone some 13,000 flags in Continued on Page 558
(Hazard, KY) Hillbillies that took over operations at the Who’s on First National Bank here say all is well after former bank officials were driven out of town. The new bankers, an executive board of three and all of the former employees emphasized that the institution is open and doing a thriving business. “Once we removed the parasites from the ledger book we found that we were making a healthy profit from day one,” said Sorrel Buckmeister, the interim president. “We gen-
(Main Street) A KURA disc jockey has been encouraging listeners to taste test visitors who come to the mountain town in search of a good time. The jock, King Cat, tells his radio audience to lick tourists and then keep extensive records on the findings, Already the efforts has yielded data that must be useful in some vague endeavor. “Surely there is some government agency that will be interested in our test results,” said Cat. “Then we can all get back up on the turnip cart and live out our days covered in immoral wealth and week night debauchery.” Already taster enthusiasts have determined that people from Nebraska taste like corn while people from Vermont taste like maple syrup.
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Regional Hatred Healthy Although it gets a lot of bad press regional hostility can be quite productive. For one thing, it defines a common enemy and allows for families and villages to pull together without a lot of petty bickering among the leaders and a lot of distrust of neighbors on a daily basis. A tranquil village is a happy village and all without therapeutic drugs. Regional hatred also promotes the creation of many functional cells of ex-patriots in places like Paris and New York. Without bigotry and anger, many of these people might be stuck in their crummy villages without the slightest chance to see the world. It is in this way that the defeated culture can export its thoughts and philosophies while keeping the lid on things back home.
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Page 4 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
Bear-Proof Mountain Bikes Popular in Butte
Kids in good shape face taunts
(Crested Butte) With all the night visitors prowling these streets and avenues it’s not surprising that symbiotic industries have sprung up offering answers and in many cases protection from these intrusions. One such venture is Crested Bruin Spokes.
(Montrose) Thinner students and kids in good physical shape are often the target of the fat majority says a study compiled by the National Education Coalition. The growing trend toward fat children in this country has netted a cruel The new business has flourished selling pecking order where slim young people suffer bear-proof mountain bikes and, although no name-calling, threats and even violent abuse. one knows exactly why they are, bear-proof The study concluded that the majority of (see Emperor’s New Clothes) sales are boomkids in this country are overweight and out of ing. shape. They tend to resent the more naturally built minority and in many cases groups of fatsos bully the thinner children. “It’s clear that Americans accept obese as the norm,” said one researcher. “It may be OK to be fat in this culture but there is no excuse for taunting. The apple does not fall far from the tree,” she continued, “and we Can you identify the Crested Buttian in this photo? Hint: The all know how much trees picture was snapped at Bethel, New York, in August of 1969 on Max exercise.” Yasgur’s farm. Get it right and you could win a new Buick. - Alfalfa Romero
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Although bike theft and aggravations related to bicycle mishaps are rare even in bear country, it pays to take precautions say the inventors of the bike. “Last spring a 300-pound black bear sat on a rock hopper and it was totaled,” said the source. “Another incident saw a bear drag a bicycle into the brush. It was never recovered. If these pedal heads had planned ahead they could easily avoid these attacks and they’d still have their bicycles.” Despite a clearly mysterious façade that follows these bear-proof units like a bee to honey, the bikes are well built and ready for the Rockies, according to the manufacturers. “They lock like bear-proof trash cans, feature intricate gears not compatible with giant paws and are designed with tiny seats so as not to accommodate the fury creatures,” continued the source. “In addition we have placed mirrors on each model so as to frighten off the nervous types and distract the narcissist. All bicycles come with extended release bear repellant and a tracking device that allows local law enforcement easier apprehension of the offending bear.” Crested Bruin Spokes plans an expansion in the spring that may net the county some 20 new jobs. Until that time interested parties can view and test-drive the new bicycles at Al’s Backhoe and Izzy’s. - Fred Zeppelin
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“People are afraid,” explained one principal at the manufacturing end of the bicycles. “They are willing to spend a little more for security. It’s all in the delivery, like propping up the fear of terrorism, of fire, of mosquitos. Throw in trends, shiny new paint and local identities and you’ve got yourself a winner.”
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This newspaper is circulated by weight, not by volume. Packed as full as practical by the editor, it contains the full net weight indicated. If it does not appear full when opened, it is because news, photos and other contents have settled during shipping and handling. For further information go to www.goawayandstayaway.com Thank you.
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 5 Countering her batlike powers of persuasion with a good swift kick to the midsection… Oh…sorry…I didn’t see you come in. Good day and welcome to another episode of Euphoria on Parade where whining, demented scribes dictate trends, directions and official policy to everyday people like you. After a good throat clearing, a few words of encouragement and some bandy chatter we will delve into a few narcissistic observations on bucolic lifestyles, a dressing down of the gov’ment, a dressing up of my resume and maybe even a bite of lunch. Sloth sandwiches anyone? No, I am not really a Federal Reserve chairman. I just play one on TV. According to the SSDOK (The Secret Society to Keep Drunks Out of the Kitchen) a film is in the works depicting Sara Palin and Michelle Bachman in that room of the house. Each is armed with only a cutting board and a paring knife. Both are dressed in Carhartts but Bachman’s are pink. Both have ordered The Obama Meal, frozen, and cannot get the package open to tell us that the meal is a bad idea. Neither has a backup plan for another menu. The reviews were horrible but at least its not Harry Potter or a remake of Godzilla. The White House has sent Vice President Joseph “International Joe” Biden to China again to unruffle fiscal feathers. According to a little fly on paper walls and debt ceilings the Chinese are quite happy with the current arrangement with the US. There’ll be none of this saber rattling on the Yong Ding. Hey, c’mon, who else is going to buy all their junk? We should simply roll the dice…double or nothing on the trade deficit. If we win, we acknowledge the validity of the Boxer Rebellion. If they win, we start teaching Chinese at pre-school. But where will we get the teachers? So many have been fired or sent away. Big hair FOX News (insert laugh track here) likes it and so do the corporate bosses who prefer to market their products to the dull and uneducated. The right-wing religious hierarchy likes it too. (see American Taliban). It is impossible to sustain a culture when not all the moving parts can read. There now…try a handful of these opinion nuts…you’ll feel better. Don’t get all worked up. It’s only your country we’re talking about here. “It’s all frightfully like introducing a gay marriage bill in Montgomery, blowing up the local Wal-Mart or
EDITOR’S CORONER
Happy
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naming hurricanes. Who tags these storms anyway? How about Hurricane Barack or Hurricane Mitt? They never are named that way. We need a hurricane named Newt or Hillary. What about a combined hurricane called Nancy-Harry? Moreover, why is it that dogs are always looking for some job to perform to make them feel useful and cats run from even the slightest hint of a little yard work? Getting back to the reading part: Our top stories for this issue include in-depth coverage of the 2011 Fantasy Democracy League with all your favorite senators, representatives, governors, lobbyists and arms manufacturers all declaring for the draft. Watch big money change hands as success and failure of your fantasy dream team is determined by the Real Show over at the Capitol. In other sports news, readers may experience a tinge of melancholy when perusing a piece Toole Denied World Weight Lifting Championship. As most of you already know our muscle-bound associate editor was forced to surrender his first place belt after judges determined that he had illegally knee-jerked Slovenia and parts of Croatia. Other headlines of marginal impact include Sagebrush Not an Aphrodisiac says BLM, Escaped Inmate Living with Marmots and Welcome the HIV Pill – Treating the Symptoms and Not the Disease In closing, we would like to apologize for the inaccurate data contained in Gingrich Still Owns Slaves in Georgia. After subsequent research, we found that Newt has only an indentured, sour staff force-fed instant grits and a 19th century political agenda. We apologize for our insensitivity on this matter. If the sea is a mystery that even old sailors don’t understand what does that say for these mountains?
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Excitement is in the air here at the 15th Annual Columbus Day Celebration planned for October 12 in Tuba City. Some 100 floats and 2000 dancers are expected to grace the main street, eclipsing craft booths and food stalls. Clowns and jugglers will no doubt entertain the children while the adults will be treated to horse races and high stakes bingo. At 5 pm we will begin a Columbus Buffet with Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria portions! One doesn’t need a crow’s nest to see that we mean to have fun! Sponsored by the local chamber of commerce, Navajo Columbus Day is in no way connected to the Cortez Corners Rodeo, the Juan Pizzaro Festival and Art Show, the DeSoto Pow Wow or the Father Junipero Serra Mission Feast Day and Chili Cook-off. “This is our festival alone and even though Christopher Columbus never set foot in Tuba City many of his influences were felt here and still linger,” said Omar Cayenne of nearby Moenkopi. Columbus Day allows for members of our tribe to socialize and pay tribute to a great American, even though he was a Spanish Conquistador. The evening will feature fireworks and a watermelon-eating contest along with live bands until midnight. “It’s fitting that we celebrate this day since without Columbus many of us wouldn’t be here on the reservation today,” smiled Cayenne. -Kashmir Horseshoe
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Page 6 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
Tent Night at Norwegian Club Loses Sponsor
Feng Shui or Feijoada? One refers to Asian positive energy flow while the other is a Brasilian feast comprised of fish beans & rice and salad. Confusing the terms can lead to an awful mess.
ROCKIES WITHOUT TV UNTIL SPRING (Bland Valley) The Colorado Rockies will be without television service until at least March according to the Federal Communications Commission. The interruption includes cable, satellite and direct beam. Parts of New Mexico and most of Wyoming will be affected as well. The problem is a result of unraveled, bent electromagnetic airwaves that are streamed in from outer space. The coaxial signal that piggybacks the system suffered a severe shock when several orbit satellites collided with a large high-definition meteor back in August. Repairs have begun but support lines are stressed and ridiculous tech commutes have further slowed the process. “The problem has to do with the nature of these highly elliptical satellites,” said Harvey Tuner, a veteran circuit technician who actually remem-
bers tube-driven broadcasts. “If the block down converter is out of whack or the geostationary transponders aren’t cooperating we have bedlam, or meltdown as we call it these days.” Authorities are calling for people to read, exercise and/or talk to their families during the shutdown. “Video compression programming should return around Easter,” stressed Tuner, “if we can get all of our modules lined up right.” One bright development is that Bronco fans will still be able to watch their favorite football team but only if they have a Moliya Orbit, MuzzleAdaptive Henway Antenna (circa 1957-1975) at their disposal. “This is nothing short of divine intervention,” added Tuner, “which leads one to believe that favoritism is alive and well in the heavens.” - Manual Flushe
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Preacher’s Union Demands Collective Bargaining
(Manana, CO) The Uncompahgre Preacher’s Union has moved to solidify collective bargaining agreements through the end of the year. The powerful lobby group hopes to continue a balanced relationship with secular concerns and government entities. For the past 120 years, the union has enjoyed support from such diverse allies as the Brotherhood of Choir Workers, Sky Pilots Ltd., KRYPTON The Eternal Salvation Society and the American Missionary Coalition. Historically these groups have never seen eye-to-eye but in the final summary have voted as a bloc. “We have differences but not of the theological kind,” said River Jones of the Choir Workers. “Politics aside, we are united.” Rev Sally Beulah echoed similar sentiments saying that conflicts are usually resolved presenting a united front to detractors and the public. “It’s important that we enter into negotiations with combined goals that benefit all of the organizations represented.” Meanwhile the powerful Missionary Coalition has taken a conservative approach in an attempt to placate all parties according to a policy statement released yesterday. The missionary position is really quite clear and simple,” said a spokesperson. “We do not intend to confuse the real issues by a lot of grandstanding. Let’s face it, you’re either on top or on the bottom.” - Dinty Moore
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He did not suffer the fool gladly 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 convention 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. C OLO N A’ S
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Page 8 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011 but the weather does seem odd for this time of the year. • People were a whole lot happier before the invention of the ego. • Sword swallowing isn’t something that most people get the hang of right away. It takes lots of practice. • If any group of people cries out to be tested for drugs, it’s the US Congress • Morning is for working while afternoon is for napping. We are all on our own for the evening. • Jerry Springer was once mayor of Cincinnati, Ohio but lost credibility when, in 1979, he wrote a bad check to a hooker over in Newport, Kentucky. • The cheeks of Louis Armstrong were quite a bit larger than those of Louisa May Alcott and Chester A. Arthur combined. • Bombay bloomers are army shorts worn by the British East India Company when it was too hot to wear full breeches • If one’s earned run average is distinctly higher than his IQ, he should probably be playing deep right field. • There are more hair salons in the city of Montrose than there were Elvis movies made between 1955 and 1965. • Dogs never lie, • Nietzsche was stupid and abnormal. • Up to the age of six or seven months, a child can breathe and swallow at the same time. An adult cannot do this. • Airline food was inspired by hospital food, which was itself inspired by train food. Train food first found its inspiration in K-rations. K-Rations...kibble. There is no set cuisine for bus travel. • All Italians want you to think they drive Alpha Romeos and wear $500 sunglasses. • The chances of winning a state lottery are about the same as being struck twice by lightening in a gold mine. • Punctuality is in the eyes of the beholder. • The Greek gods and goddesses had it pretty darn good. • It is physically impossible to fill all the handicapped parking spaces in Colorado at one time. • Due to chronic globalization beach ants won’t eat sticky rice on the Andaman island of Ko Lipe. • Biscuits and Gravy is never mentioned in the TIMBER RIDGE Old Testament and, in fact, has Muslim roots. WRECKER & When served beside grits, however, the plate AUTO REPAIR automatically changes its venue. • Elk and bear droppings, while messy, are not a COOPER TIRES • INTERSTATE BATTERIES threat to national security at this time. Will there Prompt Expert Service ~ Ouray ~ 24 hr. tow be a Color Brown alert if the situation worsens? 325-4204 Station • Hwy 550 North 325-4787 Steve Duce • 325-4824 John Fedel • Terrorists aren’t trying to kill us because they hate our freedom. They are trying to kill us because we are in their countries trying to kill them. • Dogs are not particularly loyal to other dogs. • It’s difficult to make the car payment at a poker table but it sure beats worrying about it. • The best time to embrace adulthood is from 14 -16. • Edgar Allan Poe went to West Point.
WHAT I’VE FOUND OUT
• It is virtually impossible to flunk out of Crested Butte, Colorado • Median wages are down since 1970 while the after tax incomes of the top 1 % have almost tripled in that time. • If you want to make hay don’t let the sun catch you in bed. If you want to make whoopee pull the shades tight. • Talking to God indicates an ego problem of major proportions. • If you are hit with bird crap more than three times a day, it’s not just a coincidence. • It was the gov’ment what put the overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder. • There are more cherried-out 57 Chevys in Havana than in Detroit. • The career of Hollywood star Mickey Mouse ended abruptly when the rodent experienced a pubescent voice change. • Cheap toilet paper causes hemorrhoids in laboratory rats. • Zebras are reactionaries, antelopes are missionaries. • The Irish do not respond to analysis • Homer Simpson had nothing to do with the Fukushimi nuclear mishap – Mr. Burns sent him there to only to maintain the vending machines. • An old timer is a person who has many interesting experiences, some of them true. • Marmots live underground because it’s better and easier for them than living in trees. • Habeas Corpus can be a stinky business before it’s through. • Whale watching is a two-way street. • It is considered bad taste to comment on a no-hitter or perfect Your best source for solar game while the game is in progress. power next to the sun. • Global warming is a myth concocted by secular humanists in order to break down moral values,
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(Gunnison) Ouray and Gunnison appear to have brokered an agreement that would transfer each town’s noon siren to the other locale. The move, which has the full support of County Commissars and city crews in both places, is not expected to affect daily commerce. In most cases it is expected to go unnoticed by the general population. Proponents of the plan say it’s good for the sirens to be subjected to new environments and, even though the towns share the same elevation, the climate and landscape differences dictate specific audio adaptation to fully coordinate with the cosmic flow. “In Ouray we have a box canyon which is short on sun,” said one siren technician who lives in Colona. “While in Gunnison we have a wide valley that gets colder than a well digger’s sitdowner in January. To the average person geographic variances may appear minimal but to the trained eye these subtle distinctions can spell trouble.” The exact date of the switch has not been determined but both sides say they would prefer to wait until the winter holidays. The project is not expected to close major highways although there may be detours enforced and some traffic congestion in Refrigerator Canyon and on Cerro Summit. Motorists are urged to stay calm. - Small Mouth Bess
Monkey Hits Hole in One
(Montrose) Onlookers and entourage alike remain The few golfers in the vicinity said they had in shock as a longtime pet chimpanzee sunk a never seen backspin “so pronounced, so vivid”. hole-in-one yesterday at Alice in Chains MemoWhen Congo saw the ball roll into the cup he rial Golf Reserve here. The monkey, or ape to be went wild, jumping from cart to cart, shrieking in more genus-correct, nailed the delight, monkey kissing all shot after slow golfers refused that would have it. to let his foursome play through. “I put a lot of credence The chimp, named Congo in the monkey-see monkeyfor his African origin, had do postulate but I’ve never been riding shotgun with his hit a ball like that,” said owner, Melvin Toole, 109, of Toole. “He’s quite a celeb35662299668811 Road west rity. I might even let the of town. They had stopped to urchin drive the cart from wait once more at a par 3-tee now on or at least I could box when a frustrated Congo spring for some golf lespulled off his little collar and sons.” jumped out of the golf cart. According to his owner, Congo, moments after hitting He then selected a 7-iron and Congo has excelled at his first hole-in-one blasted away. Although his form athletics from early on. was nothing special, according to fellow golfIn 2001, he kicked a 79-yard field goal to win a ers Congo made contact with 100% of the ball squeaker for his Alma Mater Monkey Prep then whacking it high in the air toward the green, tofollowed up by averaging 30 points per game on ward a clump of golfers loitering there. the basketball floor. Congo has excelled at swim(At this point, we will join Fox Sports comming, baseball, skiing and plays a mean game of mentator Rex “Big Hair” Banana with his recon- tennis.” structed foreplay) Fox Sports has already inked Congo as a color “The ball careened off the club head whirling analyst and may move him into the newsroom in as if possessed, sailing down the fairway toward November. the green…It bounced violently on the fringe Meanwhile critics contend that Congo was hard turf, turned on the backspin, avoiding a bun- just lucky, insisting that monkeys never play conker and dribbling into the hole with its last fatal sistent golf and adding that he can’t putt worth a breath.” damn. - Rex Parvenu
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 9
Surfing Club Liquidates The last regular meeting of the Western State Surfing Club was held at the AspinallWilson Center last night. The organization, chartered in 1919 by veterans of World War I reached its peak in 1963 when it boasted some 300 members. That year the club brought both the Beach Boys and Jan & Dean to the campus. Over the years, members have traveled to such exotic spots as Chile, Hawaii and the Canary Islands in search of the perfect wave. The executive board decided to disband since nobody attends the meetings anymore. “Students are far more interested in snowboarding than surfing around here,” said a former member. “It’s the instant gratification thing. There’s a great ski area 28 miles to the north and good surfing spots on the ocean are at least a thousand miles from here.” Excess funds, leftover from operations, remain in a secret Swiss bank account and may go toward the 2012 whitewashing of the W on a nearby mountaintop.
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Page 10 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
Paymaster Otter Silverton had been very good to Marvin Otter since first he arrived hell bent to strike it rich during the first gold field circus of 1880. Baker’s Park promised wealth for all back then yet most went home hungry and a little rougher for the wear. Otter had arrived young with maybe a silver dollar in his pocket. He stayed on after the initial gold fever had subsided. He worked hard. Healthy gold and silver strikes were abundant by the mid-80s and Silverton thrived. After a few short years, Marvin had a steady job, a house on the river, a stake up Minnie Gulch and a promising bank account. He was still poor but in some ledgers he was up-and-coming. In addition, he was courting the youngest daughter of the richest man in Parrot City. When it came to loyal employees and stable citizens Otter was beyond fault. Hadn’t he been promoted three times in three years and helped build the town’s first firehouse? Hadn’t he successfully negotiated agreements that allowed for whites to come into the high country in the spring and
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leave with silver in the fall? Didn’t he show up at the annual Fourth of July festivities with the dazzling Clara Spears, the daughter of the most prosperous trader in the San Juan, radiant on his arm? Having skirted the sin crimes, fermented by gambling, booze and whores, Otter began his career as a mucker then graduated to hoistman in the Cornwall Mine near Eureka. He hated working underground. but continued to impress, setting policy, pace and work ethic in the accounting sector of Silverton’s Pardon Me Mining Company. It came as no surprise that the mine bosses chose Otter to perform the most trusted chore, carrying the monthly payroll over the mountain to Lake City. The Pardon Me owned the Land of the Free Mine near White Cross and two other small digs in Cunningham Gulch. It also held paper on the Jingo Mine in Mineral County and the rich Butterfly-Terrible Mine in the San Miguel. Despite millions taken from the ground, miners were paid $6 per day for a 12-hour shift. The United Mine Workers Union was gaining strength, its members labeled as anarchists and socialists by the mine bosses who went to extraordinary lengths to discredit labor movements. Labor troubles were really management troubles but the rich man always dictates the sad history of the poor man. Otter had saved his money but it was not enough to ask for the hand of the lovely Clara, join the brahmans in Parrot City and hop onboard the train to social mobility. He remained obsessed and beguiled, constantly trying to maneuver his way around financial shortcomings. There were five of them, the trusted men who carried the payroll. The same man could not consistently carry the money each month due to robbers and highwaymen who freely roamed the mountain passes. Even the cargo was disguised, sometimes in whiskey barrels, other times as feed, still other times tucked under explosives bound for Hinsdale County mines. Often just two men brought it over. Sometimes, in the interest of security, the payroll was switched over to mule in Howardsville and sent by way of Stony Pass to Creede and then back up
over Slumgullion. The law barely flexed its muscle in the mining camps much less the backcountry. Citizens of both Silverton and Lake City remembered the murder of the whistling postman, Ron Powers, on Bill Williams (Leroux) Pass in 1886 “when the Utes were jumpy” and the near-scalping of “The Red Finn”, Donald Enenga, and his family when they got caught in a snowstorm on Hunchback Pass the next year. On a brisk October Thursday a well-armed Otter, with a $2500 payroll, would make the journey by horseback upriver to Animas Forks where he would take on a local gunman to ride shotgun with him over Cinnamon Pass to Lake City. ***** After a dusty ride from Silverton Otter walked into the Frog Saloon (11,580 ft) in Animas Forks searching for Knute Johannsen, his approved hired gun for the trip. It was dusk and a small procession was just returning from the local graveyard. “You looking for Knute?” laughed one man. “You’ll find those bones up yonder in the cemetery. That good-for-nothin bully finally got his just desserts.” Shot twice once from the front and once from the back…murdered during a drunken argument over a soiled dove who had just arrived in town to ply her trade and expand her market. Knute was a mean sombitch with few friends. She had worked at Lacey’s Famous Avon Paradise in Eureka and had moved on to Animas Forks since men were said to bathe once a week and pay a working girl in silver. Shootings were common. Prostitutes came and went. The only other potential guard Jake Mulholland was too drunk to walk, much less tote a shotgun up the Cinnamon. The local chamber of commerce here played down the violence by ignoring it.. Animas Forks pretty much disappeared in 1891 only a few years before the 1893 Silver Crash tore the heart out of this mining country. Fearing that the shooter and any number of derelicts in Animas Forks might recognize him from Silverton, Marvin made his way up Cinnamon Pass alone. If all went well the 28-mile journey could be completed before the autumn darkness set in. The first stage of the pass was the most dangerous with slippery shale, loose rockslides and tight switchbacks. The mule inched and picked its way. The footing was often bad enough that Otter had to dismount and lead his mule in tougher terrain. To the south stood Whitecross Mountain and farther south Handies Peak. He would follow what was then called the Shelf Road to Sherman where he could change from mule to horse for the remainder of the trek to Lake City. He thought of Clara as he climbed toward the 12,600-foot pass. She had agreed to consider his marriage proposal
CONTINED ON NEXT PAGE
CONTINED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE that night when the Dodge City Cowboy Band had performed under the stars. He watched for signs that he was followed. He thought about the money he was carrying. The alpine terrain unfolded with sharp cliffs, dull, soft dirt and jagged peaks caressing the faraway sky. It was idyllic, a paradise, a hell, a no-man’s land…a wonder to see. Then without warning the mule stumbled tossing Otter and his cargo into the side of the mountain. He grabbed the saddlebags and the shotgun landing hard on his right ankle, twisting it savagely. Marvin knew he was in trouble when the swelling started. Looking back along the trail, he removed his boot and the ankle throbbed. He took a sip of
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 11 married Clara and that he was made president of the local bank. He dreamed they were rich. He saw himself as a poker player winning a big pot only to take a bullet and drop to the floor. He saw Clara smiling fondly at another man. He saw this mountain trail open up and suck him into the abyss. **** When the cold morning light hit the top of the peaks Marvin awoke from his jagged bed possessed with the money he had stashed. He could dig it back up or leave it buried? He went over his story aloud confirming that his employers would believe him. Who would doubt the honorable Marvin Otter? He burned the satchel that had once been full
him down to Sherman on the way back around. What fool will believe his story in Lake City?” The carrier made the 10-mile round-trip and returned to the spot where Otter sat waiting. His ankle was turning all sort of colors but he soon felt better up on the mailman’s horse. The two men talked non-stop as they meandered down the mountain. They crossed Crazy Dog Creek and waded through last winter’s frozen drifts along Deception Ridge and into light rain that fell on the Hinsdale side, washing the pines and sending aspen leaves scurrying for their lives in the storm’s path. By evening they were in Sherman where the mine bosses were waiting for the payroll to arrive.
“Baker’s Park used to be a pretty quiet place with just a handful of summer visitors. All Indians.” – from Mining the Hard Rock in the Silverton San Juans by John Marshal and Zeke Zanoni.
rum from a bottle stashed in the bags, then a sip of water. If anyone were in pursuit, he would be an easy target. He leaned on the mule to stand and the cargo shifted, sending the mule over the side carrying his food and cold weather gear down into Grizzly Gulch. Otter sat holding his ankle, the money and saddlebags. If anyone were to come along the trail, he would either rescue him or rob him. He buried the saddle bags somewhere deep in the rocks in a small cave prodded by landslides and scooped out by centuries of snow. All around him were precipitous peaks, dinosaur ridges and curious valleys perched in the icy air of October. Otter searched for fuel for a fire but there was not much. Just tiny purple flowers and mountain goats. When he does manage to start a small fire it strains to ashes. He thinks about the money and how he’d like to keep it. He drinks rum and thinks of the money. It’s paper. He laughs. “Hell, I could burn it and be warm for another hour.” The clouds parted, displaying a myriad of stars. He had another swig of rum and another. His lone provision relieved the pain of the ankle. “I could burn the money. What else can I do. I’m freezing.” “What else could I do? I was freezing, said Otter aloud, practicing the words. Then the temperature began to drop quickly and a light snow fell. He pulled his collar tight and lowered the brim of his hat. “It’s the perfect explanation if I show up empty.” More rum. The stars listened to his words. They didn’t go down any better in the heavens than there at the top of the planet. After adjusting the symmetry of the immediate geology, he fell asleep. Marvin had dream after dream while a madman in the darkness up on the pass. He dreamed he had
of bills and then saved it thinking it would make a fine exhibit A in a liar’s defense. He almost died up there on the pass. He had to burn the currency to survive. How could anyone doubt his story? How could anyone prove otherwise? Marvin’s ankle throbbed. He reached for the painkiller and found the bottle empty, and then he reflected on his strange dreams. A rock rolled down the ledge and he heard someone approaching from the Lake City side. He raised his shotgun and waited to meet his morning company. Around the corner came the mail carrier on horseback making his way to Animas Forks from Sherman, where he had spent the night. “They were expecting you last night,” said the mailman. “They was worried you fell off a cliff! Where’s your escort?” Otter told him the story of Knute Johannsen, his decision to make the solo journey, the loss of the mule and the tragedy of broken bones and frigid weather. Then he told him he had burned the money to keep from freezing. “Makes sense to me.” quipped the mail carrier. “Got plenty cold up here last night. Even a little fire could make a difference, heh.” The mail carrier watched Otter curiously. Burned the money to stay warm did he? That’s a crock. This boy is hiding something but it ain’t my call. I’ll take
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MUG SHOTS:
THE SAN JUANS’ FINEST FELONS By Anne T. Soshull, History Specialist What differentiates a banker from a racketeer? Who decides an historical figure is worthy of a symphony or worthy of decomposition? Just because the Pope wears a white dress, does that make him holy? Most historians who write of Colorado’s notorious criminals tend to focus on bank robbers and not bankers, lynchees and not lynchers, marmots and not marmot slayers. Beneath the compost heap of history molds the truth. Numerous men with a glorious place in Colorado’s history texts were, in fact, scoundrels. Documentation bears this out. Philanthropist and “Father of Alternating Current,” L. L. Nunn and his lover, banker Addison Wrench, got away with murder. They had been seen in bed together (a felony in the 19th century with a mandatory prison sentence) by a local marshal in Telluride in 1895. Shortly afterward, the lawman was mysteriously assassinated, silencing him forever. Discontent with a mere killing, his enemies propagated newspaper stories distorting him into a vicious drunk, bank robber, and former James Gang member, all lies that have held their place in history. Nunn also showed hints of pedophilia, according to a few of his associates. He often watched teen boys, such as Senatorial pages, of whom he would choose the “most promising,” and finance their education. Some wrote in their memoirs of how he “visited” them in their beds, while others killed themselves before they were twenty. Nunn left a legacy to his own ego, knowing well the value of endowments and archives, making certain justice never tangoed his name to the gallows.
Another Telluride hero, Bulkeley Wells was an adulterer with a penchant for homicide. Wells’ own personal secretary admiringly wrote that Wells was so naturally endowed with testosterone that he couldn’t help being a lecher. Wells also spent half his life trying to hang innocent men for bogus crimes, just because he disagreed with their politics. He became a devotee of psychopathic serial killer Harry Orchard, since Orchard’s “confession” had indicted Wells’ enemies. But Wells got his in the end when he blew out his own brains. Other San Juan “heroes” were as malevolent. Editor David F. Day of Ouray’s Solid Muldoon incited riot and murder. If it hadn’t been for his outrageous journalism, a seven-months-pregnant woman would not have been lynched in 1884. Day called her a “monster… who should be strung up,” although her husband was the one charged with a crime. After she was strangled in terror, Day applauded the lynchers. Justice never waltzed Day to the gallows.
One of the San Juan’s most celebrated felons was Otto Mears. Most people know of the Russian immigrant as “The Pathfinder of the San Juans,” believing he generously built roads for the public good. He has been domiciled for eternity in stained glass in the Capitol, a shining example for wee folk everywhere. Yet the record shows clearly he built roads as a means of increasing the bulge in his pants. His pockets were deep and he liked them full. He jumped at every opportunity, including ways to swindle the Utes. Early on, Mears engaged in genocide during the “ Navajo Campaigns” with Kit Carson. Later,
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 13 in Saguache, he stole 50 head of cattle meant for the Utes and claimed the cattle had died, letting the people go hungry while he made a profit. He scoffed when Indian agent Calvin Speer reported the theft to the governor. Because Mears claimed to have learned the Ute language, he was called on to “induce” them to leave their homelands in the San Luis Valley under the Treaty of 1868. Success got him appointed as Indian agent for the Utes, who mistrusted him at best and thought he was a “scat-scented witch-dog” at worse. He assured them the “Great White Father” in Washington would send men with cannons to
please, oh do take the rest of our homeland.” They crossed their arms in absolute refusal, so Mears suggested to Felix Brunot, the US Commissioner of Landgrabs, that Chief Ouray should be offered a salary of $1,000 a year for ten years. This would encourage him to agree to “sell off” the best of the ancestral lands. Ouray liked the idea, yet Ouray was, in fact, not a real chief of the entire Ute people, but a government appointee, who had no right to be in bed with Mears on behalf of the Utes. Nor did the rest of the Utes have knowledge of the plot. It was all translated and re-translated by Mears. Brunot himself was astounded, calling the plot “bribery.” Mears cautioned him that it was a “salary” and not bribery. After a trip to Washington, meant to dazzle them, Ute leaders were forced to sell four million more acres of prime real estate in exchange for a $25,000 annuity, which the government would tell them how to spend and actually spend for them. Thus the Ripoff of 1873 was ratified. The Chicago Tribune reported the Utes “will take back with them greater feelings of disgust than they brought East.” Mears had manipulated them into signing away the San Juan “mining region” where whites had been trespassing with impunity. The Utes were forced to move again, giving up their mineral rights, hot springs, Gucci handbags and make-up kits. They were told the valleys would be theirs “until the rivers were no more.” In 1880 while rivers still burbled, headlines screamed, “The Utes Must Go!” At the lead was the vociferous racist, David Day. He inked up many a line asserting Utes were best as maggot farms.
eviscerate them if they refused his kindness.
The impetus for this was the slaying of Indian agent Nathan Meeker and his family in 1879. Meeker had his own ideas how Utes should subsist. In his attempts to transform them into little white choirboys under his control, a few took up arms in defense of their culture and people. The government took a dim view of rebellion on the part of “savages.”
By 1872 the white invaders were salivating over the lands where the Utes had settled. Treaties were meaningless. Mears “negotiated” with the Utes as their interpreter again. When they said, “No way, you woolly stump of a dog,” he said they said, “Yes,
Thus the Treaty of 1880 was “negotiated,” with Otto Mears again playing a central role. And once again he bribed the Utes: two dollars cash each for their signatures. For the record, the Chairman of the Commission in Washington refused to “endorse the
agreement” because “Mears bribed the Indians.” He ordered Mears to stand trial for this crime. Mears danced free due to a convenient change in government. The new appointees praised him for his bribery, paying him back with taxpayers’ funds, and even appointed Mears as the official to lead the removal of the Utes. The Utes had no clue what they had signed with their immortal “x” for two dollars each. They soon found out, as they were brutally removed to wastelands in Utah, where deprivation engulfed them. Otto Mears himself had acquired acres of Ute land and was blowing away mountainsides to make more toll roads that made his pockets bulge more. The Bribery King of the San Juans also made an attempt to bribe Colorado legislators in 1891. The New York Times of April 14, reported: “Five of the most prominent citizens of Colorado have been indicted for bribery by the grand jury of Arapahoe County. They are Otto Mears…” Mears, then President of the Rio Grande Southern Railroad, was trying to bend the legislature in his favor. He predicted the indictment would vanish shortly. It did. With his bribery skills perfected, even District Attorney Stevens failed to resist Otto’s currency. That out of the way, Mears turned to marmot slaying. “The Rainbow Route: An Illustrated History,” gives a glimpse of Mears’ marmot-loathing nature. In August 1903, to speed the work of a railroad extension, he hired 125 Navajo as construction laborers, paying their fares to Silverton. They, along with local men, were put to work on a new grade near Eureka. The overlords claimed the Navajos were lazy, spending more time playing with marmots than working. Mears, who had arrived to view the progress, “reacted explosively to such carefree joy and wasted effort,” firing the Navajos. Out of spite he hired local boys to shoot all the marmots. To this day San Juan marmot communities still curse when someone mentions the name “Otto Mears.” To them, he was no grand pathfinder, but a narcissistic, avaricious, genocidal runt of a rodent exterminator.
Page 14 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
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(Hollywood) Most cartoon celebrities are really pricks in person, says retired director Melvin Toole. Speaking to reporters from his airy spam-fed balcony overlooking Placerville, Toole was quite candid as he mentioned specific characters and his relationships with them over the past four decades. “As one might guess Mickey Mouse is no more than a victim of too much attention, while in Donald Duck we find the classic manic-depressive bird,” explained Toole. “Just because he’s got his own watches and T-shirts Mickey thinks everyone lives and breathes for his opinions and input. When they don’t respond with the proper amount of enthusiasm, he throws a fit. He has surrounded himself with shallow barnacles and he doesn’t even live near the beach anymore. He’s a sad case of a mouse who has had all the cheese, but is afraid to take a bite.” Toole added that while Donald Duck is an ill-tempered, selfish malcontent on screen, he is even worse in person. “He is sedated `round the clock to contain his harefooted rage,” said the former star maker. While Toole has directed over 200 cartoon characters from 1953 to 1993, certain of the more self-indulgent ones seem to stand out. “Betty Boop, for starters, was nothing but a two-bit whore, with the mouth of a sailor and the brain of a pea,” laughed Toole as he recounted the flapper’s ascent to stardom. “She slept with every animator in Hollywood and several house painters in Orange County to get where she is today. It was that voice, though,” reflected Toole, “that drove me crazy after a few hours on the set.” Toole has nothing good to say about Rocky the Flying Squirrel either. “That damn rodent whined his way into a starring role by threatening to disrupt the entire production if he didn’t get his own dressing room and just the right kind of exotic nuts after the show. I have a lot of gay friends and all, but he took the cake. His only friend,” according to Toole, “was that numskull Moose Bullrattle...or whatever his name was who wouldn’t know day from night without a scorecard.”
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Other notables on Toole’s list of creeps include cartoon pioneers, Tom & Jerry, the overbearing Foghorn Leghorn, the too cute Booboo Bear and the nearsighted Mr. Magoo. “If that Magoo pervert was so blind how come he spent all his earnings at the peep shows and on dirty magazines?” asked Toole. “Of course his taste in women indicated a vision disorder. I’m no prude, but this guy needs help.” Cartoon characters that Toole respects include Mighty Mouse, Fritz the Cat and others. “Surprisingly enough, Elmer Fudd, who was always portrayed as a grump, was in reality one of the nicest people in Hollywood during his tenure,” finished Toole. “He always signed autographs for the kids and went about life exhibiting only the kindest demeanor. Most of his money went to poor people, while his door was always open to some novice, young actor in need of emotional support. The man was a saint,” sobbed Toole, “and the public thought of him as a grouch.” Toole expressed hope that the cartoon stars of the future would look to Fudd as a role model and that they would stay off drugs. -Small Mouth Bess
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Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 15
Deadline for hibernation permits draws near (Bland Valley) Residents who wish to hibernate this winter have until Thursday to obtain official Colorado Hibernation Permits. The procedure is simple enough Applicants must only stop by the nearest Division of Wildlife office to pick up the needed forms. “We have begun to closely monitor hibernation since more and more people have expressed interest in this winter diversion,” said Melvin Toole, Director of Peaceful Latent Dormancy (PLD) for the Western Slope. “This, combined with the population explosion here, has made cave space a premium and has threatened to disrupt the peace and quiet enjoyed for centuries by innocent fur-bearing animals.” In addition to a small fee, persons wishing to enter this torpid state must also undergo a hibernation safety course, which is offered on Saturdays until January. “In effect, this is an extended deadline,” smiled Toole, “and we hope participants will be kind to our clerks when registering. We know you’re tired and frustrated with your gov’ment but getting testy with our people will only make matters worse.” - Dag Katz
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Page 16 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
CONGRESS NOMINATED FOR EMMY (Warshington) The United States Congress was today nominated for an Emmy Award for Daytime Drama due, in part, to creative partisan grandstanding regarding debt ceilings, wars, lobbyists, the economy, and health care. Several Tea Party members were fingered as peripheral supporting actors too said the steering committee. The Senate has only recently embraced yoga (with mantra greeeeeeed) and voted to cut back to cheese sandwiches on Thursdays in the royal dining room (to help lower the federal deficit). Meanwhile the House (of Ill Repute?) has followed the lead of its corporate masters agreeing to adopt the Moonbeam Standard since gold is so expensive and the dollar must be backed by something or it is just worthless paper with dead people on it. In one surprise development rookie representative Melvin Toole (Green-Stalinist Party) has announced that he will run in absentia for President in 2012. The new candidate, was quick to point out that absentia was not a former Soviet block country and that his party “offered totalitarianism with a gentler side.”.
– Small Mouth Bess
Obama Pulls Trust Funds
(Washington) In an attempt to balance the federal budget and bring down the deficit, President Obama today sent a bill to Congress calling for an end to all trust funds. While the exact language of the bill was unclear at press time, conjecture has it that several built-in concessions may get the thing through the House and onto the Senate floor by mid-week. One major pitfall awaiting what the Washington Press Corps is calling the Trust Me Bill is the fact that almost everyone currently serving in the Congress is a recipient of some form of trust fund. If they themselves don’t get a check, their kids or grandkids do. Obama pushed on with the plan despite the objections of his cabinet and Vice President Joseph Biden, all of whom receive trust funds as well. Insiders add that the Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, herself a recipient of outside funding of this kind, is not speaking to her husband, who counseled Obama on this measure. Bill gets a trust fund too but he insists he doesn’t need it and forwards it to charity. Watchdogs here were shocked when Obama sent this potential legislation to the House since the money in question has already been taxed and often goes directly into the recreation economy, one of the few profitable ventures that has emerged in this country since The Great War. “If Obama is successful in this endeavor, just who are we going to get to hang out on decks and patios during the ski season?” fumed one trust check recipient in Aspen. “Who will drink all day in the bars and patronize the arts at night? Who will pay cash for a gold pass? Who will man all the silly committees? Who will direct all the social crusades? It ain’t gonna be the workingman. I can assure you of that,” she said. -H.L. Menoken
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Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 17 I guessed we were in for it when a guy wearing a windbreaker with the letters ‘DEA’ on it appeared at the cave’s entrance, and said: “You know where I can find a guy named Slagman?” “Who the hell are you?” I said. “I’m Billy Doorlock,” he said, reaching in to shake my hand. “I’m the lead man out here, spearheading the ‘War on Drugs.’” “We don’t have any drugs,” I said, “but we could sure use a drink of water.” “My men will be here any minute,” he said, looking at Labiana for the first time. “They’ve got plenty of water.” His Ray-Bans could not conceal the fact that his cold grey eyes roamed over her lush body with what could only be de“What’re we gonna do now Slagman?” asked the thinly scribed as naked hunger. I wondered how long this guy had clad and attractive fugitive, Labiana Fettuccini, as if I had the been out here, and what his tour in the desert had done to his slightest idea of what our next move might be. mind. One thing I knew for sure: When you’re stuck in the middle My own mind was spinning like a circus carousel, and we’d of the Sonora desert in the middle of August without a drop only been here for a few days. One thing became clear: A of drinking water, there’s a lot of things that can happen, but half naked and gorgeous brunette with a centerfold body, a none of them are good. bunch of DEA cowboys, and Nubulo Furthermore, being on the run from her old man, the notoriJohnson armed with a Weatherby .475 Magnum buffalo gun ous drug lord and stone killer, Alphonse Fettuccini, did not wasn’t gonna shake down to be a walk in the park. bode well for my peace of mind. While a dozen guys with M-16’s started passing around During the long and thirsty night we had stumbled across Johnson’s whiskey jug and eyeballed the woman, I drank a cave-like depression halfway up the wall of a dry riverbed, thirstily from a military canteen. When you’re really, really and were now holed up in there hoping to escape the blisterthirsty, there’s nothing on the planet that tastes better than ing heat of the blazing sun, which was beginning to rise like cool water, guaranteed. a flaming Phoenix out of the endless, blasted wasteland that “What’s going down?” I asked Doorlock. stretched out for eight hundred miles to the east. “We’re on the trail of a band of smugglers,” he said. “The If I could have transported myself back to my office in the word on the street is there’s a hundred kilos of cocaine on city, where the only thing I had to worry about were unpaid the way from Honduras. We think they’re headed to Bancho bills, lying politicians, cheap whiskey, and alimony payments Pilos.” to my five greedy ex-wives, I would have bought a ticket “What street did you hear that on?” asked Johnson, sipping right then. from a freshly opened bottle of Red Dog. Not happening dude, I thought. “It’s just a phrase we use,” Doorlock said. “I’m not really sure, exactly what we’re gonna do,” I said, “You look like you could use a drink,” said Johnson, as he “but one thing’s for sure...” handed the guy the bottle. Doorlock guzzled greedily, and “Yeah?” said Nubulo Johnson, “what’s that?” some amber fluid dripped from his large, puffy chin. “We can’t stay here much longer.” “How far is it to Bancho Pilos?” I asked. I thought we were “I don’t see why not,” husked the girl, “my husband will a few miles west of there. never find us this far from the border.” “It’s about twenty miles off thataway,” he pointed, “the “Nobody will find us here,” I agreed, “but if we don’t get to choppers will be here any minute. You guys are welcome to water pretty soon, we’re gonna end up as nothing more than a ride along.” We began to gather our gear, as the roar of the pile of bleached bones, I can guarantee that much.” inbound Chinooks echoed off the cave’s rock walls. “That seems like a negative outlook,” Johnson cursed. A short time later we all went into the Beso Negro saloon, “After all, we’ve still got a half gallon of Bourbon.” a notorious hangout for outlaw bikers, drug lords, whores of I looked at Nubulo Johnson, my long time partner in the all description, pimps, con-men, DEA agents, Homeland Seprivate eye business. He was lounging in apparent comfort curity guys in three-piece suits, (what are those guys doing in against the wall of the cave, leering at the girl’s cleavage, the middle of Mexico? which I had to admit was a lot more interesting than anything Oh yeah. They’re spending some of the hundred billion dolelse. lars a year they get from the mostly unemployed middle Labiana had discarded most of her clothes in an attempt to class.) thwart the heat index, which was probably about one hundred There were also gamblers, smugglers, Colombian hit-men, and forty degrees in the shade. Johnson never seemed to mind the heat, since he’d grown up in the middle of Death Valley, which, he said, “makes this place feel like a garden party.” Western and Local History • Local Authors I wasn’t worried about the heat either, since it would slow Mountain Reference • Cook Books • Gifts down anybody who was chasing us, like Labiana’s insanely jealous old man. But we were gonna have to find some water pretty quick, and that was turning into a bigger problem than the girl’s heaving bosom, which I noticed was more substantial than I’d originally figured, when she’d walked into my office last week. Johnson was sharing the whiskey with her too, so she was giggling like a schoolgirl and offering even more revealing glimpses of her firm, long and tanned legs.
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government assassins. There were greasy politicians smoking fat cigars, hoping to scare up some votes for the ethics committee they represented back home by having their pictures taken with scrawny kids who hadn’t had a decent meal in ten years. Nubulo Johnson immediately steered Labiana to the crowded bar, bought a bottle of tequila, and disappeared into a private room at the top of the stairs. I had just settled down to deal a hand of blackjack with Doorlock and three of his buddies when Alphonse Fettuccine came through the door with three of his hired goons. He fired a shotgun round into the ceiling, then roared: “Where the hell is my old lady?” In this crowd, a couple of drunk bikers looked at him, shrugged their massive and hairy shoulders, then went back to dealing meth with the Hondurans. Otherwise, nobody paid any attention. Inspired perhaps by winning a fifty dollar hand at the blackjack table, and more likely by multiple shots of Mescal, Doorlock jumped up and yelled: “The DEA is buying the house a round!” While the topless barmaids handed out drinks there was a strange absence of sound, into which came the screams of Labiana Fettuccine from upstairs, accompanied by a banging headboard: “Oh Nubulo! Please don’t stop! Now I know what a real man feels like! Oh my God!” Needless to say, all eyes turned to the drug lord, Alphonse. His face turned a weird shade of gray-green, then went all pale as he began to hyperventilate, gulping for air like a fish in a baggie. He dove for the staircase and at the same time pulled a Desert Eagle .50 cal. from inside his pin-striped, double-breasted London Burberry, and racked a round into the chamber. How he had located us I’ll never know, but my guess was he had a mole somewhere inside the DEA, or the DEA could have been working for him. These things happen. When Nubulo Johnson appeared at the top of the stairs carrying the .475 Weatherby Magnum, the room went dead still. I eased my ten-gauge auto-mag up from under the table, jacked a round of four and a half inch double-ought mag up the pipe. AK 47’s belonging to the cartel members sounded like castanets at a mariachi convention as they were cocked and locked. I flipped over my hole card, drawing an ace to a one-eyed jack. To be continued
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Page 18 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
IN DEFENSE OF THE
MOUNTAIN LION by Rex Montaleone and Pauline Parvenu
Now, let’s see...magpies, malls, misappropriations, moon pies, mountain lions...ah...mountain lions...much maligned mountain lions. The proud cats of the Rockies have been the victims of bad press for centuries even carrying a stiff bounty on their heads until recent years. The adult cat, known as a puma, panther, cougar, catamount or el leon in other parts of the Western Hemisphere may be a gray color or a reddish or yellowish color called tawny. Its hairs are fawn gray tipped with reddish-brown or grayish. He has no spots and in this way is different from his cousin the jaguar. The throat, the insides of the legs and the belly are white, and the tip of the tail is black. Some mountain lions are solid black but they are quite rare in the Southern Rockies.
A full-grown animal may be over five feet long not counting the heavy tail, which is usually two to three feet long. The heaviest lion on record weighs in at about 240 pounds. The body is slen-
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Mountain lions have from one to five cubs at a time, which can be very taxing for the female. If a hiker comes across a female lion Despite years of bad publicity, there is no conclusive proof that the graceful with cubs, the best approach is to mountain lion is a threat to livestock, unless of course he is hungry. wave his arms and make noise. You will then appear larger and fiercer. The cry of the mountain lion is wild and terIf this doesn’t work you might try running like rifying. It sounds like a woman screaming in pain. hell even though the lion will probably see that as The animal also has a soft whistle call that can a sign of fear and attack immediately. One good be quite unnerving to potential prey. Mountain idea is to bring along an ample supply of raw lions hunt at night. Its chief prey is deer, followed meat in your backpack, which could serve as a by elk. On special occasions it kills a bighorn and diversion in a tight spot. Mountain lions are genif hungry enough will feed on small mammals, erally timid when in the proximity of man and are even skunks and porcupines. The cat generally less likely to attack than other cats such as the keeps under cover while stalking its prey then smaller lynx or bobcat. suddenly leaps upon the animal breaking its neck and dragging it to the ground. Unfortunately, Although mountain lions go to great lengths most herd animals, including domestic ones, to avoid contact with man, the population has don’t have access to all this information or they grown steadily since the animal has been procertainly wouldn’t go out after dark. tected. Most Western states have a season on the lions but they are severely restricted. More Imagine living life as a sheep, in the strictly cats are killed attempting to rustle livestock then literal sense. You have just finished grazing on are shot during bow and rifle season combined. the side of a hill and are set for some shut-eye. The shepherd is already asleep and the moon is full. Off in the distance you hear a shrill cry. The rest of the herd is tense. In the shadows you can see the silhouette of the predator, creeping his way toward your flock. What is he after? gOUr Ment n OOdle Surely the shepherd will protect his sheep. Wait! He’s looking right at you! No, this just can’t be. You are too young to die plus you’re scheduled for shearing on Monday! Look at those biceps. Oh no. It’s too late. He’s stepped up his pace. His claws are extended. He’s in the air. He’s got you...
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der and the legs are long. The head is round and rather small. As one can quite well imagine the mountain lion is a formidable foe on physical prowess alone. Combine his high intelligence and sly, methodical nature and any adversary could have a major donnybrook on his hands.
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How often do you think this bloody scenario occurs over the summer season when the woolies are up high and the mountain lion has expanded its hunting radius? Every night? Once a week? Once a month? Wrong! There are far more sheep killed on the highways than by the proud cats. Everyone, especially the crafty mountain lion knows that elk and venison are much better tasting than mutton. Lions who engage in this kind of roguishness are usually too old to catch
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 19 anything else and are badly in need of a snack before their eternal bedtime.
The human reaction to mountain lion forays is to mount a hunting party or posse and go out after the lion. This generally results in a lot of senseless wandering around the hills at night with whiskey and loaded rifles. Which lion is to blame for the crime? Can these trackers distinguish between a lion who was home in bed at the time of the infraction and the feline rascal who raided the herd? It’s not likely. Therefore, it’s the old solution of an eye for an eye and the only accomplishment is often one less lion and no increased security for the sheep. One of our neighbors placed a series of spotlights around her corrals in an attempt to discourage further onslaughts but the mountain lion in attendance simply used the light to scope out the fattest prize and then dined by simulated candlelight.
Mr. Obituary Dead at 99
The mountain lion is an extremely social animal and lives in a den with its family or pride until the young cubs are old enough to hunt for their own food. Actually observing a mountain lion in the wild can be a thrilling experience depending on where you may lie on the food chain.
Animal behaviorists stop short of suggesting that the mountain lions should police themselves regarding this grave matter. However, that is not a valid approach to the conflict. Many ranchers have employed llamas, dogs and high fences in an attempt to spare sheep a gruesome death but the cats are just too smart and too powerful. The core of the problem is simple enough: Sheep look like lunch to mountain lions.
The cats sometimes kill calves and young horses. The largest variety of mountain lion has been given the scientific tag hippolestes, which translates as horse killer. This is a heartless misconception as more horses die each year of jockey abuse and rattlesnake bites than from lion attacks. Nobody calls the rattlesnake hippolestes. This, like most other things evolving from the human factor, is not fair. As the mountain lion population increases so do these scrapes with the law. Efforts to pay the ranchers for losses have not worked. A plan to designate certain low grade sheep and cattle as official mountain lion cuisine has never gotten off the ground nor have the construction of mine fields since sheep are way dumber than most wild predators.
Mountain lions do a lot of good when left to their methods. Many have helped control the poodle population even on redwood decks of the Front Range sprawl. That takes some guts all right! Unlike bears, lions aren’t proficient dumpster divers, unlike coyotes they won’t keep a camper up all night and unlike deer they do not loiter on the highways at dusk and dawn. Probably the most important contribution of the big cat is his inherent wildness. At a point where man is polluting his planet and manufacturing stress upon more stress, the presence of a beast like the mountain lion succeeds in giving us hope. Long after our species (and its livestock allies) has burned itself out, the mountain lion will be prowling these forests looking for a hot meal.
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(Ridgway) Signell de Bushe, a former resident here, died in Riverside, California last night after a long illness. Known as Mr. Obituary in newspaper circles, de Bushe is credited with penning over 200,000 of the morbid accounts since breaking into the business at age 18. He is survived by his wife Watta de Bushe (the former Ruthie DesPlants) and children Rose de Bushe, of Olathe and Sergio de Bushe of Whitewater. Unlike most young reporters who cut their teeth on obituary writing and then move on to other topics, de Bushe stayed right with it for almost 57 years. Our reader often recounted seeing him scurry back and forth from the mortuary to the cemetery and back to his desk in a dark corner of the press room. When he retired from the Pea Green Peeper in 1994 he was given a reconditioned black hearse instead of the traditional gold watch. Mr. Obituary, said to be a humorless old fart, was certainly no fan of the San Juan Horseshoe. In fact, he repeatedly demanded that his name never appear within the hollow pages of this tabloid. He also asked that no man write his obituary. It is with his last request firmly in mind that this newspaper so honors him. -EDITOR
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Page 20 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
HARVEST HOROSCOPE
Welcome to another stroll through the cosmic greenbelt. Keep in mind that, in an attempt to maintain the dim-witted flow, our forecasters use only pre-World War I field glasses, great wings of wax, solar-powered probing devices and the power of two thousand crumbling ancient Roman aqueducts to formulate our appraisals.
LIBRA (September 23 - October 22) The straw that broke the camel’s back may be the only source of air in a smothering relationship. Stay in the middle and achieve the light that comes only from understanding that some people need parameters and others need to go to sea. Giving of yourself will not help you lose weight. Reading the fine print may be difficult since you cannot even decipher the headlines. Tonight: Liver with a Lover.
SCORPIO (October 23 - November 21) Learn the difference between congenial and congenital. When launching projects from the back burner wait for ground clearance and use the proper turn signal. Although sluggish at best, your career is moving faster than you do. The proverbial “little rain must fall” has threatened to put out your spark. Mental voids will soon be filled with meaningless drivel generated at the highest levels. Tonight: The cat box needs attention.
SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21) It’s difficult to remain politically correct when you can’t distinguish between South Africa and South Carolina. Maps are no more than mirrors of the in-
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tellect and ignorance of your surroundings travels deeper than the back of the bus. Go somewhere dangerous and exotic. Saguache is nice. When it comes to potty training let others know where you stand. Tonight: Practice mustachio-anarchy in the parlor.
CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19) Fortunately, for the rest of us, your political opinions are much like a bad haircut and will grow out in time. Chronic leaf loss may cause irritability in the forest where the bark is often more prevalent than the blight. Future recipes for life will be far easier to swallow if you clean up the cosmic kitchen when the cake goes in the oven. Volunteer to take no action whatsoever-Someone has to stay with the horses. Tonight: Sharpen knives.
AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 18) Get all the facts before making a poor decision. Suspend bill-paying excursions and watch your bank account grow. Your shrink cannot perform effective liposuction. Try an elected official instead. Would you rather suffer from leprosy or watch TV game shows? Lie to Congress. Everyone else is doing it. Message in a bottle: “That’s the salad fork, fool.” Tonight: Your favorite toilet paper goes on sale at midnight.
PISCES (February 19 - March 20) It’s tough to be a comfort at cocktail hour when you’re already three sheets to the wind by noon. While there are no openings for male geishas, the demand for eunuchs is stable. Practice chopstick metaphysics and the charlatans will get lost in the rice. Embrace moral compromise. Open doors at the bottom, windows at the top. You have effectively fallen through the cracks. Congratulations. Tonight: Iron underwear.
ARIES (March 21 - April 19) Bow ties imply status quo but they alone do not override the foul perfume of moral decay. But enough about me...I never voted for seat belt laws but I was at Woodstock, three or four times. Yah sure. Take cover from the electronic monster in your living room. It distorts, it chops, it slices, it hacks, it cubes, it minces...It hypnotizes. It educates—but then so does Lowest Prices! we DeLiver!
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TAURUS (April 20 - May 20) Once king of the pasture now no more than low grade hamburger. Dragging your feet is better than drooling. Take a break from the evolutionary process by attending a Republican fundraiser. Ah, the Christian Jihad. Then there’s that Democrat in the linen closet throwing tax money at the crack in the door plugged up with monogrammed tea towels. What’s the difference between the color green? Tonight: No pajamas!
GEMINI (May 21 - June 20) Multiple options exist due to numerous personalities adjusting to the current scene. And the blue-eyed Eskimo asked: “So then how will I heat my igloo?” Now is the time to buy luxury items like bread and milk. You remain sexy in an expedient sort of way. Today is the perfect time to purchase postage stamps. Hold onto hope and keep your cash in a sock. Practice charismatic lust. Tonight: Cramp someone’s style.
CANCER (June 21 - July 22) Illicit desires are triggered by the sunrise. Workplace passion offends sanitation standard bearers. Seek independent funding for social commitments. If too much work lands on your shoulders try letting it roll off your back. Soggy lunches lead to sandbagged afternoons. Office politics really should not be a problem on the trash truck. Deception can be avoided by remaining confused. Tonight: Wallpaper the cat.
LEO (July 23 - August 22) Show ample respect for shellfish. Mice don’t really have the capacity to remove thorns from your paw but they can go for help. The answers you get depend on the questions you raise. A chubby acquaintance takes a personal interest in your cookie making. Does he have a hidden agenda or simply a chronic flirtation with chocolate chips? Tonight: Lion food for dinner.
VIRGO (August 23 - September 22) Following your own advice will only lead to impulsive practicality. Avoid temperamental relatives, greasy food and social castes until the sun goes down. Walk the dog, don’t run your mouth. Although not permanent, tattoos aren’t really temporary either. Everyone else is in vogue. Thyme is of the essence today. So is garlic. It’s a bad idea to cut bait on thin ice. Tonight: Eat a healthy breakfast. - Kashmir Horseshoe, sluice box alchemist, weekend conjurer, kinetic kingfish, pawn to the elements, battlefield ninnyhammer, passiveaggressive waste treatment purveyor, sky pilot (aka Johnny Bluestreak, Bishop Kyle Silt, Warren of Wexley and the Incredible Whiffet. Real persons appearing in this section really appear in this section.)
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CONTINED FROM PAGE 11 bosses who listened quietly until the ankle was set. While Marvin ate his first meal in over 30 hours, they talked in private. “He burned the money and my ass chews gum!” said the foreman at the Land of the Free. “He must be crazy if he thinks we’re buying that story,” agreed another mine official. “I’m disappointed in Otter,” offered the owner of the Pardon Me, “but a thief is a thief.” Then the Hinsdale sheriff arrived. “Our main priority is the return of the payroll,” explained the three. “Then we will see about punishing Otter. First we put him under wraps, then we’ll have to deal with over 100 miners expecting their pay.” The sheriff then arrested Otter at his dinner and tossed him in the town’s only private jail cell. When he returned the four men discussed the best approach to recovering the funds. “I believe there is still meat left on the bone here. We could beat the information out of him,” offered the sheriff. “The irony is that if he doesn’t talk we can’t prove he’s a liar. I think he’ll spill the beans when push comes to shove. I figure when the miners find out what went down his life won’t be worth a Confederate dollar anyway.” That evening the sheriff and two deputies entered the tiny cell where Otter was confined. “Otter, where is the money?” demanded one deputy, pushing Marvin across the cell into the rock wall. “You had better come clean with us, boy. You’ve got no friends here to save you,” said the sheriff. “Was Knute Johannsen part of your scheme? Did you murder him too? Your story is bullshit. You must think we’re really stupid over here,” he added slapping Otter a good one to the side of his head. “I told you,” whined Marvin, “I burned the money to keep from freezing. I even brought down the singed satchel to prove it! I didn’t steal the payroll!” A blow to the head from on of the deputies knocked Otter to the ground. “You’d better start telling the truth, Otter,” said the sheriff. “Once these miners find out they ain’t getting’ paid they’ll tear you to pieces. You ever seen a lynch mob at work? We couldn’t prevent un-
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 21 lawful violence even if we wanted to…” But Otter stuck to his story, falling asleep in his blood. ***** When the prisoner came to, he heard voices in the street outside his cell. “We’ll get a confession out of this bastard. Burned the money my ass. He stole it up there on the Cinnamon. Let’s just hang the bastard and let the mine sort it out.” Otter sat alone thinking. “I’ve made it this far and I’m stickin’ to my story. These lawmen might beat me up but they can’t let a mob have me.” He thought of the beautiful Clara sitting in her parlor in Parrot City. Surely she would hear of all this. “I’m sticking to my story. They’ll never find the money and they’ll never prove me a liar. In time the money is as good as mine. I just have to keep my head until then, and after a year or so go back and dig it up.” Early the next morning the officers returned telling Otter that the mob would be larger and angrier before the day was over. “These people have hungry kids at home and no payday. You won’t last a minute after dark. There’s a proper hanging tree right out your window,” laughed a deputy. “The sheriff will fill out a report saying: An angry mob tonight hanged Marvin Otter of Silverton. My small contingent of peace officers was overwhelmed and could do nothing to prevent this tragic act from precipitating. The sheriff returned and tried to reason with Otter. “If you tell us the truth we’ll hide you over in Creede until the miners get paid, then you’ll get a fair trial.” Otter stood firm with his story.
“I have been a loyal employee of the Pardon me Mine for many years. Why won’t someone believe me!” “I give up,” said the sheriff. It was decided that in the interest of recovering the loot Otter must stay alive. The only answer was to move him to Silvertonwhere the jail is more secure. The next morning before daybreak three riders left Lake City for Silverton along the same route that Otter had taken several days earlier. Otter, now a prisoner, was tied to his horse. One deputy rode ahead while the other followed up from behind. They made their way through Sherman in the dark then into Grizzly Gulch by first light. Otter examined the cliffs searching for some mad escape route. He imagined getting away, digging up the money and heading for San Francisco where Clara could join him and… Just at that moment a shot rang out echoing through the alpine valleys, one intrusion in all of the crystal peace that surrounded them. Otter slumped down on his horse with a bullet in the back. When he arrived in Silverton later that afternoon he was processed by the coroner and buried in the local potter’s field. For years miners and others looked for the money while the Pardon Me Mine search took two months and covered a 3-mile radius from where Otter was buried. The mule and the money lie covered in a fool’s grave, quietly waiting for another season to come and go, patiently waiting for nothing. Clara married a banker from Gladstone the next summer. They say the wedding was quite the affair. - Uncle Pahgre
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Offers good on new and unregistered units purchased between 7/27/11–9/30/11. *On select models. See your dealer for details. **Rates as low as 2.99% for 36 months. Offers only available at participating Polaris® dealers. Approval, and any rates and terms provided, are based on credit worthiness. Other financing offers are available. Applies to the purchase of all new ATV and RANGER ® models made on the Polaris Installment Program from 7/27/11–9/30/11. Fixed APR of 2.99%, 6.99%, or 9.99% will be assigned based on credit approval criteria. Warning: ATVs can be hazardous to operate. For your safety: Avoid operating Polaris ATVs or RANGER s on paved surfaces or public roads. Riders and passengers should always wear a helmet, eye protection, protective clothing, and a seat belt and always use cab nets (on RANGER vehicles). Never engage in stunt driving, and avoid excessive speeds and sharp turns. Polaris adult ATV models are for riders age 16 and older. Drivers of RANGER vehicles must be at least 16 years old with a valid driver’s license. All ATV riders should take a safety training course. For ATV safety and training information, call the SVIA at (800) 887-2887, see your dealer, or call Polaris at (800) 342-3764. ©2011 Polaris Industries Inc.
Page 22 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011 “Light Mean People on Fire and Throw Them Into the Black Hole” T-shirts. 3 for $36 plus postage. Carne Canyon Pedicures, Shavano Valley. Be advised that the State of Colorado will close Highway 50 between Gunnison and Montrose for the fall to prevent road damage and to protect chuckholes, designated an endangered species by Congress late last night. Persons living within this area should contact your electric officials at home for more information. Motorists should forget their commercial and social interests in lieu of fishing until December. Melvin Toolini, Apian Road Supervisor. Get your very own “My Dog Attacked Josh McDaniels” bumper sticker at Delphin’s Hideaway. Culo Rico Beach. Mosquito baiting in Colorado? Messy and effective but is it humane? Sign our petition at Bright Lights, Mesh and Things, Manana. Are there more laws because there are more criminals or more criminals because there are more laws? – a friend. I will iron your socks while you’re at the dog track - St. Roscoe, Powderhorn. Respect the planet one battery at a time! – Gratis battery recycle drop-off Rocky Mt Jewelry. 145 N Cora in Ridgway Are you graduating from college this fall? We are looking for several bright, well-versed amateur political scientists to overthrow the
Cozy Colona Cottage with beautiful valley and San Juan views. Two lots across from large pasture with southern exposure. Large bedroom, remodeled kitchen, one bath, office, front porch. Mature shade and fruit trees and plush lawn. Wood stove, lots of windows, wood floors, Pets possible. Available December 1st.
NOW you can get exotic sounding sports injuries by mail. Hyper-extended knee w/hollandaise, romance language based liver ailments, torn rotary fruit cup, cracked ribs almandine. Club members use star key when placing orders and receive “100 Hamstring Marching Songs” plus other gifts. DO NOT CALL THE NUMBER ON YOUR TV SCREEN, Box 996, Horseshoe.
Free Egg Roast Breakfast: Old man Pritchard’s hen house. Free map at your neighborhood Yoke’s. No basting. No poaching. No hardboiled attitudes before dawn. Whites only.
Cloud City Ranchitos. From $479,500. Near dump. No parking. Dogpatch Realty.
Anglers: Learn to curse like a dolphin without leaving the boat. Bow hunters: Shoot apples off the heads of your offspring from our sunny porches. Politicians: Watch the election returns from the Goodyear Blimp. Special interests: We have your number. Do you have ours? Pop’s Helicopter Ventures and Antiques, Meridian Lake.
Increase your spam count without drugs or surgery. Dr. Simon Lackluster, 21 Nixon Impeachment Boulevard, San Clemente, CA.
Pinocchio Schools now accepting lumberjacks. Learn to be your own firewood. Kindly Giuseppe, puppet master.
Hunters: Is your blood alcohol gradually overtaking your IQ after 5 pm? Counseling, consultation is available at your nearest Colorado Highway Patrol headquarters. Weather reports some days too. Lunches Thursday.
Auction: Von’s Politburo of Moscow’s new plutonium furniture sale. This month’s special: Tupperware 232. You haul. Nuclear submarines: Buy one - get one free. Lots of mix and match missiles. Try our grab bag! It’s sure to surprise you! Joseph Boris Yeltsin Jr., auctioneer.
I retired at 6 years old. You can too. Melvin Toole, Bunker #2888, St. Simone, TVD-8. OUT OF WORK LAWYERS! We can rehabilitate you. In just a few hours of training, you could qualify as a sous chef, railroad brakeman, leaf sorter, proofreader, proctologist or beekeeper. Many more lucrative careers just a phone call away. Litigation your specialty? We
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Born naked? We’re always hiring dancers. Red’s Show Bar, Silverton.
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Canadian government as a sort of field experiment. Must have at least a 3.0 accumulative average and matching socks. Dr. Albert O’Delle, Western State College Extension Ladders Consortium and Balding Grandmothers Club. Taylor Hall. Possible invitation to North Korea for successful applicants.
Scapegoat milk and cheese. Will deliver in county. Crossfire Farms. Located just north, west or south of the Montrose Airport runway.
have openings for pipe fitters and airline mechanics. Crime your area of expertise? We’re always looking for a good getaway driver. Attorney Eternity Inc. Bagpiping enthusiast seeks potential mate familiar with a cappella performances sans kilt. Mac at the Horseshoe.
Will trade Raider box seats for litter of kitties. Prefer young cats that have proven themselves in man-to-man coverage and can effectively rush the passer on third down conversions. Al Davis, Oakland.
Fall 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 23
If Heaven has seasons one of them must be autumn in the Uncompahgre Valley
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Page 24 • San Juan Horseshoe • Fall 2011
September 17, 2011
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