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Summer 2011

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Page 2 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

2011 SUMMER EVENTS 6/11 at 1pm– Yellow Bird Dancers 6/18 – 6/19 – Tribute to Western Movies Day 7/2 – July 2 3:00pm An American Tapestry: A Multi-Cultural Celebration 7/4 – 4 th of July Parade 7/4 – Montrose Music Festival & BBQ Competition 7/4 – Fireworks 7/8/ - 7/9 – Night Vision 7/8 – 7/10 – Black Canyon Quilt Show 7/15 – 7/16 – Colorful Colorado Car Show 7/16 – Grin & Barrett Black Canyon Butt-Kicker Charity Ride 7/22 – 7/31 – Montrose County Fair & Rodeo

8/5 – 8/6 – Olathe Sweet Corn Festival 8/19 – 8/21 – Montrose Rod & Gun Show 8/20 – PAX Gala 8/20 – Harvest Festival 9/3 – Chipeta Day 9/3 – Uncompahgre Valley Muses Festival 9/16 – 9/18 – 18 th Annual Antique & Collectibles Show 9/23 – 9/25 – Montrose Indian Nations Pow Wow ONGOING EVENTS AND ACTIVITIES: Main In Motion, every Thursday June 2 nd – August 18 Montrose Farmer’s Market – every Saturday May – October from 8:30am to 1pm Fun Runs – every Tuesday at 6pm

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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page3

George Washington Had No U.S. Birth Certificate (Mt Vernon, VA) The nation’s first President, George Washington, who was elected in 1789, did not possess an official birth certificate from the United States because he was born in the Commonwealth of Virginia in 1732. There was no United States then and would not be for some years to come. There are nine former Presidents who share in this phenomenon/quirk, depending on what date one recognizes as the beginning of our country. The Presidents without legitimate U.S. birth certificates are John Adams (born 1735), Thomas Jefferson (born 1743), James Madison (1751), James Monroe (1758) John Quincy Adams (1767), Andrew Jackson (1767) and William Henry Harrison (1773). These were born before the United States became a sovereign nation in 1776. Two others, Martin Van Buren (1782) and Zachary Taylor (1784) were born after the Declaration of Independence, but before the ratification of the Constitution and the election of Washington. They had no official United States birth certificates either since they were born in limbo. The 13 Colonies were no more but the federal government was not yet firmly established. At present, no one has demanded to see a birth certificate from any of these men. Although naturalized citizens, none could offer proof that he was born in the United States. All were elected legally and served their respective terms without genetic or ethnic incident. - Signelle de Bushe

InsIde your Issue

Russians drop big one

Hockey team fails to score in loss to Hashishistan

Pastor raises 1.2 million, leaves town

Charlatan preacher talks fast, runs faster

Most Americans not affected by cannibalism

Study says only one in one hundred at risk

Master plan status updated to misplaced

Not “lost” as previously surmised

Soap opera audiences dwindling Is life becoming a virtual substitute for television?

Rockies pledge to buy only local rosin in 2012

Mayor cuts wrong ribbon, pants fall down

Government may indeed be your friend in city hall laugher

EXCLUSIVE: The Vampire Truckers of Kebler Pass THIS MONTH’S SERIAL: “The Flemish Ambassador” Part 6: A Spittoon for Czar Nicholas

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Page 4 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

Tewowists Awe Evewywhea by Elmer Fudd

Hewo fwiends. Aww bwave Amewicans aww afwaid of tewowist and should be because they want to bwow us up. It’s patwiotic to be afwaid of tewowists. Just ask ouw government. Ciwcle the wagons, fwightened pawefaces! Tewowists come in aww sizes and fwavors. Tewowists awe hiding behind youw twash can, miwwing awaound that unwocked gate, twying to steal youw caw, and weaving bombs in youw bwiefcase. Why do these peopew want to huwt us? We are fweedon woving, God feawing souws, not wike the Tawiban ow those Iswamic cwewics who pwomise 100 viwgins and a quick twip to pawadise just fow kiwwing infidews and hewitics. Nevew mind that we have twoops in Iwaq, suppowt puppet dictatows in Pakistan, have twoops in Afghanistan, and send miwwions in miwitary aid to Iswael. I wove my countwy but it is cweaw that the cowpowations have us in a stwanglehold. They use ouw militawy to make unweasonable pwofits. The Economic Dwaft… Ouw chiwdren join the awmy due to fweeting oppowtunity at home and since so many jobs have been shipped to othew countwies. But the stockhowdews all wecieve theiw dividen checks on time whiwe the popuwation wemains compwacent. Anyone who complains is then called a tewowist. If you gwipe about gas prices you awe a tewowist. If you question

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dwopping bombs on Wibya you awe a tewowist. If you sound awarm when main stweet Amewica is boawded up you awe a tewowist! Wooking at the big pictuwe is the key. Ouw countwy has wost something short of its souw. It begins with the demise of the famiwy unit and we don’t neeed some wight wing speciaw intewest wewigious gwoup in Cowowado Spwings to tell us so. Amewicans don’t want to take wesponsibiwity for anything. I wove it when chwonic cwedit cawd abusers say: “The govewnment should be wesponsibew with its spending. It should not spend mowe than it has. Then they pay the monthwy minimum on their cwedit cawds and dwive back over to Waw-Mawt. Cwassic deniaw…a wot wike dwiving an Awe Vee awound when gas is $4 per gallon. Have you hugged youw hydwocarbons waitewee? And saviow politicians: weave youw hands off my Medicawe. I paid for it. You didn’t. You have aweady waided my Sociaw Secuwity to pay intwest on ouw nationaw debt. Maybe Congwess could take a pay cut, or bettew yet why pay them at aww? They awe aww miwyionaiwes aweady. If not, they will be when they become wobbyists. Big mouths wike Kawl Wove, Dick Cheney, Donawd Twump and Newt Gingwich do not have a pwan. They just want to make mowe money. These men are evil. The smoking gun, Hawiburton, bad haiw and no peachy agenda fowwow these fouw awound wike a confused widdow puppy dog. Sowving economic problems of the countwy is not on theiw docket. What kind of name is Newt? Does he have a U.S. biwth cewtificate? Then they teww me Barack Obama is a wiberal and a sociawist. Ha! He is no more than Biww Cwinton with a tan. Wednecks wowwy when Watinos cwoss the bowdew wooking fow work. Isn’t it the weenactment of the Mexican War unfowding befowe ouw eyes? Maybe the Watinos wike the idea of a Manifest Destiny too. Wets awe sit back, have a Bud Wight and not wet it iwwitate us. Wets dig a big howe and thwowe aww the wadiacals on aww sides into it. Then they can fight it out without puwwing us and ouw famiwies into the mess. If these bad peopew continue in contwow, ouw wegacy wiww be a diwuted cultuwe dwiven to its knees as the wich make more money and the poow pay the tab. The Cowpowations awe steawing the countwy bwind whiwe we make wove to ouw ceww phones.

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(Manana) The popular Wino Roundup is up and running, with more than 100 reprobates already collected and shipped out of the area for the summer. The annual exercise, usually reserved for the month of May, will continue throughout the autumn in an attempt to “get ahead of the game” according to local authorities. Winos have been removed from street corners, benches, bridges and caves where they have spent the winter months. They will be sent to summer camps in Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas so that tourists from Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas will not see them here. Others will make their temporary home on vacant Bureau of Land Management sites where they will pick sagebrush to pay their room and board. “We don’t want visitors having to look at the seedier side of our society,” said founder of the movement, Monte Chavitz, a former drunkard. Chavitz says his group expects to relocate some 500 winos during the summer months to preserve Colorado as a perfect environment for vacations. “The entire program has been a rousing success this year although we did not capture any of winter’s winos in Gunnison due to the weather there,” he explained. “Any winos holding out in Gunnison County this winter did not live outdoors and were difficult to catch when we combed the area,” added Chavitz. “We presume that they are all hiding indoors despite the arrival of summer. - Susie Compost

Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 5 Welcome to another edition of Opinions on Bed Bugs and Lowering Utility Bills, cleverly masked as the San Juan Horseshoe. In retrospect, we hope you enjoy our brutish handling of current events and our limping, yet quaint, outline of the exiguous choices within the world of literature. These are to be found lurking somewhere between bobtail and wingless. The other day, when I was speaking with the Ghost of Elvis Presley, the subject of hairstyles in pop culture rose to the surface of our exchange. Elvis said he favored Donald Trump’s mop while I insisted that (in his day) former governor Rod Blagojevich was coiffure king. “But Elvis,” I barked, “the acquisition of cheap hair oil is the essential ingredient to a successful political career, the sin qua non of follicle revisionism here. “Nonsense,” replied The King. “Those in the know have rejected the concept of petroleum products altogether preferring a little shot of bacon grease or even warmed mayonnaise on their dew. With the exception of my time in the military, I slopped buckets of the stuff on my haughty hair before every performance. No wonder dogs followed me home all the time.” Meanwhile over at the Congress, the subject of hair has yet to be broached in that most members don’t have any anymore (at least in the right places). They are far too busy arguing about diluted health coverage, gay marriage, diluted banking reforms, legalizing pot and how to send dirty pictures over the Internet. This week we expect Congress to act on a bill that prohibits prostitutes from gathering outside the Capitol Building. Apparently, the hookers are often mistaken for lobbyists, a stark situation that threatens the integrity of the entire federal gov’ment as we know it. Did you ever notice that whenever people start talking about integrity the dung is about to hit the air circulation device? The deluge of letters received after our spring issue attests to that very concept. Complaint upon complaint vehemently


suggested that we write too many stories about dogs. In noted response, this month we will present an annoying display of cat stories. Changing editorial horses in the middle of the stream works just dandy, but do not rely on sheep jokes. That said, let’s get down to the meat of the eternal riddle: Who did put the overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder? Moreover, was it Manhattan or New England? Why would someone do such a thing? Most of the usual suspects have been collected but all have creative, if not creditable alibis. We are certain that the authorities will get to the bottom of the bowl and make some cutting edge arrests for something other than DUIs and skateboarding. In that vein, we would like to thank Miss Armbruster’s 2nd grade class at Lee Harvey Oswald Grammar School for a civil engineering feat not to be reduced by the throngs of the landed bureaucracy. The young class has completed an extensive blueprint for traffic flow in clogged up Montrose. The planners, both at the municipal gov’ment and with the Colorado Department of Highways have yet to grasp the concept of multiple lane use at Main and Townsend. But the kids get it. They created a middle lane that functions as both a straight ahead throughway and a left turn lane, by allowing motorists in the middle lane to either go straight or turn left at their discretion. Absolute genius! In the fall, the class will tackle the demand for over a dozen roundabouts that are expected to grace the city at any moment. However, will we be able to afford the gas necessary to go round and round? The prices at the pump have leveled off at $4.00 while the GOP blames the White House and the White House promises a complete investigation ASAP. The Dems could start by looking into the practice of paying oil subsidies to an industry that brazenly admits to profits in the billions. But why create a melee considering the pre-existing condition of the electorate? I used to be a Republican, vot-

ing against social programs, worrying about the masses, watching the Missing Link eating ants off a stick! Cognitive dissonance? Maybe…just keep drinking that Kool Aid that they brew up every morning and you’ll be fine. ’Round hea’ you can always nail a deer or elk and grow vodka trees to survive. My Uncle Earl cultivated an impressive bi-polar vegetable garden in the back of his Cadillac Eldorado when he wasn’t hauling illegal aliens back and forth across the border. Earl says he has the answer to the quagmire down Mexico way: Just levy a stiff cover charge to cross. That ought to weed out the deadbeats. (Fact: The more illegal Latinos in the country, the better the bus service,) Either way, these mountains have been a great hideout for the last 35 years, long before public radio, long before fast food, long before they gave the all the monkeys slingshots and whipped cream. That last development should not be so surprising when one considers that humans and chimpanzees share 97% DNA. Here are some headlines: GOP Poised to Nominate Hillary for President. Harry and Nancy Let Animals Out of the Zoo. Missing Link Eats Ants off Shtick (Sorry, we did that one already). Democrats Have Better Sex Than Republicans. Government to Introduce Slow Food for Obese. Cultivation of Dangerous Notions Called Dangerous by Splinter Groups If you find any of the stories that go with these heads please let us know, Just a reminder: The Region Zen Anarchist Party will be hosting a Catch a Cannonball in Your Teeth Symposium through July at Totem Pole Park in Crested Butte. Border Collies without Borders will meet every Friday night through August, while the Colona Chapter of the Black Panthers Annual Gun Sale has been rescheduled for September due to a conflict with the Rastafarians for (Walter) Mondale Picnic. See you in the funny papers.

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Page 6 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

INSECT ASIDES by Melvin Tool


(Wimpton UPS) Some three thousand dollars, ear wigged for community mosquito spraying, are nowhere to be found according to the town treasurer here. The money, rat holed from sales tax coffers in June, had been stored on deposit at the O. Henry State Bank but was withdrawn Tuesday by a man who was dressed like a town official. “We thought he was legitimate,” said one bank teller. “He seemed official and this is Wimpton. Anyone could make the same mistake.” Town fathers and mothers are hoping that the funds will turn up and that the sad transaction was not a heist of some sort. Until that time they are asking that all citizens kill at least ten mosquitos per day to control the population of the annoying vectors. “As soon as we locate the money or can raise another three grand we will begin flying sorties,” barked General Worthington Bulbous (retired), Wimpton City Councilman and local real estate agent. “Once we soften up their fortress a bit we’ll be ready for a major ground assault.” Bulbous intends to employ the entire population of the Wimpton County Jail in his endeavor and has extended pardons to prisoners who said they were not dangerous.

A reward of twenty-five hundred dollars has been offered for the safe return of the spraying funds.


(Gladstone) Hundreds of earwigs will begin descending on the Uncompahgre Valley as summer marches on. The tiny pincer bugs tend to crawl under moisture-laden objects then scurry away at the presence of humans. They are particularly disturbing to alcoholics, obsessive-compulsive gardeners and persons prone to hallucinations. They will most likely reside here side-by-side with a host of other pests until about hunting season when they will return to their winter homes. Despite the unassuming veneer, the earwig can be a formidable foe to insecticides and insectivores alike but there is no concrete proof that the bug enjoys boring into one’s ear, eating significant brain tissue and causing almost certain insanity in a matter of weeks. Persons who do not take solace in such reassurances are urged to wear earplugs when in the vicinity of earwigs or in the company of other pests. Meanwhile local flies have been upset by the influx of disreputable maggot gangs from the cities. The resident flies claim that their younger urban cousins are totally uncouth and lazy. The image conscious insects charged that the maggots will eat almost anything and are guilty of loitering around feedlots, pastures and fast food dumpsters. Local flies have been conducting a public relations campaign to convince residents here that flies are more than just tiny janitors engaged in menial tasks such as the policing of the trash trust. They have not undressed the burning issue of their enthusiastic, almost ritualistic partaking of feces.

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(Ouray) The governor’s office today announced the forced closure of what it calls dangerous flume rides operating within the town of Ouray. The rides which originate at about 8400 feet and descend sharply to 7400 feet have been popular with locals and visitors alike since the snow started to melt in March. The flumes have been blessed with record run-off and have reported only minor injuries considering the angle of vertical relief employed. One city official who refused to be interviewed said that if the state intended to close the flume rides it should also shut down other dangerous attractions such as most Western Slope highways, the Brown Cloud on the Front Range, the Rockies’ bullpen, and gang pastimes such as crack sales and drive-by shootings. He then invited the governor and his staff to experience the flume rides and attempt to put them in perspective with the rest of their universe. In a related piece, the Jackass Flats Giant Dinosaur Turd Pavilion and Gift Shop will be closed until next summer so that engineers can build further support systems and create lasting infrastructure for future generations to enjoy. According to park officials the turd is slowly eroding due to limitless foot traffic during the summer. “While the turd is closed we will conduct further excavations and build a Velcro footpath with handrails on both sides for safety.” The dinosaur turd reportedly gets slippery when it rains and can become difficult to negotiate, especially for the feeble-minded. “The dinosaurs we’ve been digging up are even larger than some of the RVs I’ve seen on the road this summer. It’s flat amazing that anything could be that big! - Melvin Tool, Jurassic statistician.

— Summer Revival Frightens Bears — (Lake City) A summer tent revival is blamed for upsetting local black bear here. The crowds, the noise, the traffic and the microphones have teamed up to interrupt the natural serenity of the furry residents causing some local humans to start asking fundamental questions about multiple use. “These people come here in the summer with their evangelism and their big cars,” said one Hinsdale County native who claims that his pagan beliefs in no way dictate his concern. “Everyone hibernates in harmony all winter, then when the weather gets nice we have to deal with the salvation circus.” The revival, set up on private property near Lake San Cristobal, has been held in Lake City since 1927 when the first Rev. Snow arrived from Texas with nothing but a tent and a Bible. His son Rev Snow II continued the experience, expanding his ministry to include television broadcasts, world famous Tennessee hams and a chain of car washes from Georgia to New Mexico. The current Rev. Love III, a likeable parson who readily admits he would rather play golf than preach, is the current master of ceremonies. “We’ve been coming here since the Twenties,” laughed Rev Love III. “I can’t imagine the discomfort of a few bruins will dislodge us now. Sure, they are God’s creatures but so are we. Nobody in the congregation complains when they get in the garbage or chase a few hikers. We are in total compliance with local laws and customs.” It is still not clear what the community expects or if any of the bear have been saved. - Kashmir Horseshoe

Silverton Welcomes Yodeling Academy

(Howardsville UPS) The town of Silverton today celebrated the opening of the long awaited Lake Emma Yodeling Academy. Although the official ribbon cutting was postponed (someone forgot to buy ribbon in Durango) everyone promised to work together for the advancement of the arts in San Juan County. Strict covenants subscribed to by the institution call for the education of no less than 1000 yodelers per year. Instruction will follow in the classic sense focusing on raw talent and the ancient traditions inherent to the art. The classes are open to all ages and scholarships are available. Yodeling is defined as singing so that the voice fluctuates between the normal chest voice and a falsetto. It is often associated with the alpine landscape since lower oxygen levels aid in the development of strong, healthy lungs. Mountain goats and wide-open spaces further encourage the yodel. Silverton is rich in both of these elements. A series of programs has been slated throughout the summer and fall with a final chorale concert/pot luck at the Triangle Service Station in November. “Imagine the surprise when the train is serenaded by hundreds of yodelers as it arrives in town,” said one instructor who learned the art from Jimmy Rodgers. “Hank Williams would have been proud and that says nothing of the von Trapps.” - Dinty Moore

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(Crested Butte) Rudolph “Botsie” Spritzer came back last night. In an unannounced visit, the Little Captain himself showed up at the Horseshoe offices for a chat and a glass of dandelion wine. The former journalist and late fishing great, who passed on some years back, described heaven as being a place much like Crested Butte in July. “We have meadows and creeks everywhere and deer to hunt and even kielbasa,” he said. “Everyone up here is fine. Lyle and Whitey and Tony and Pitsker are here. They all ended up in heaven, even me.” Spritzer went on to say that although he missed his nephews and family he was enjoying his afterlife. “It never snows here and the wind rarely blows. The beer is cold and the pretty women like to listen to my stories,” he smiled. “I’m very tall here and my back feels better than ever.” When asked how he managed to pay a visit to the earth, Spritzer said he traded a string of kokanee to the man at heaven’s gate for a 24-hour pass. “I can only stay a few hours,” he explained. “I want to spend some time with my family in Gunnison, pay a visit to my friend George Sibley and then stop in Mexico to visit Chuck Wirtz.” - Gabby Haze

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Page 8 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

l First Ponies of the Weeminuche ll


Gray Sun had seen them once. It was the year 1598. He and a band of about 15 Utes had been wandering the high desert, trading with the Pueblo below the Chama River. His company had walked all the way from the San Juans to trade with friends and conduct raids on remote Navajo villages. In those ancient days, the Utes could only survive by living in small bands and moving by season in their constant search for food. Advanced social interaction was limited and starvation was often only a day or two away. He told the wide-eyed children, including Little Knife, Evening Bear and his younger sister Spring Waters of his first vision of a horse. None of the children had ever seen one and could only imagine the magnificence of this creature that in a few decades would drastically change their lives. “My friends the Pueblo warned me to stay clear of the Spanish,” said Gray Sun. “They said the men in armor killed for sport and had taken many of their tribe to their cities as slaves.” Gray Sun assessed his audience, which grew as he spoke. His high cheekbones punctuated his speech while his dark copper skin danced with the moonlight. He and his party had been intent on seeing one of these horses, he told them. Then one morning, while they were hunting they noticed strange tracks in the dust. Moments later they took cover on the riverbank just as men rode by on horseback, their shiny armor and steel swords glistening in the morning sun. “If the Nuche (Ute name for themselves) could not become invisible like the wind they would have discovered us,” he said,” because in our astonishment we were standing almost

straight up, with our jaws dropped, on the bank when the riders passed.” “It had two heads, one covered with a helmet, hair on its face, armor and a great torso. Its legs were larger and stronger than the legs of any warrior. A few yards away the Spaniard dismounted and we realized that it was a man atop a slightly smaller monster that they called the horse. He then got off and walked around independent of his other four legs while straps from mouth to the earth tethered the horse. The horse even had a throne where the Spanish sit. I have heard that some of the horses wear iron too. This Spaniard had no feathers and therefore could not have been a chief. “That day,” continued Gray Sun, “we sat mesmerized by such a proud and powerful beast under what appeared to be the spell of the arrogant Spanish soldier. The Pueblo told us of many more of these horses to the south. All of us longed to touch one and the bravest plotted on how to tame such a monster.” ***** When a Ute reached the age of 14, he was anxious to prove himself. Little Knife and Evening Bear were among a group of a dozen braves who would journey to the desert lands of the south in search of the warrior’s soul. The carried dried fish, nuts and berries from the tribes’ dwindling stores. They carried bows and arrows. Their clothing and moccasins were made of buckskin, and they walked the entire way. Had they Spanish horses they could run down bison and shoot deer from a gallop not stalk them in cumbersome packs. Often their bands might consume an entire kill in three


days. With horses, they could hunt as they needed meat, as the prey wandered into their domain. Seasonal foods, such as yucca, wild onions and chokecherries would be slowly ripening as they headed south escaping from the cold mountain winter. They would return to the high country in late spring for the Bear Dance, as their descendents had done for centuries. They would be wealthy with the fame befitting chiefs. They followed what is now the Animas River out of the mountains heading south. Game was plenty along the river and the forests allowed many secure places to camp away from predators and the elements. After walking for five days they came to the headwaters of the smaller San Juan River. Crossing the San Juan in January was no easy task. Although parts of the shore were frozen, the river had to be forded at shallow spots where the stream was gentle and the footing secure. The San Juan, like all the other rivers in the West was larger and more powerful than it is today. After two hours everyone was across. It was much greener on the south side. In another week of walking southeast they would cross the Continental Divide and soon reach the big river that the Spanish had aptly called the Rio Grande. Hot springs, beautiful scenery and welcoming Pueblo lodges made the journey a pleasant one. Fortunately, they would not have to cross the Rio Grande. A friendly village stood on the west bank at Cochin not far from their destination, the Navajo villages near San Ysidro. The older braves, themselves novices in the art of plunder, had been told by the elders that the Dine’ (Navajo) would be easy prey, hibernating in their winter lodges. Slaves and weapons were the primary objective but the soul of the Ute had horses on his mind. At Cochin they were joined by a small band of Pecos warriors who, as sworn enemies of the Navajo (Head Crackers as they were called by the Pecos) would join in the raid. As the well-armed contingent left Cochin early in the morning they saw a sow Grizzly – sign of good fortune and a blessing from the Spirit - and made a proper detour. The bear, respected as it was in the animist religion, could be an adversary of great proportions. After all, the Utes were descended from the CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE

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CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE Great Spirit and the Grizzly Bear. However, that morning the puffy dream clouds in the sky looked more like horses than bears. Were horses even larger? Did they eat people? How could they hope to catch one and lead it back into the mountains? Around their fires, they talked of the coyote: his intelligence and his treachery. His freedom and his cunning were legendary. They would need all these attributes the next night when they would strike. ***** Donning war paint the party descended into the irrigated valley where smoke from the Navajo fires lazily drifting on the horizon. The presence of many Hopi slaves, on the perimeter herding sheep verified that of a fierce battle had recently been waged between that tribe and the Spanish. Unlike the Pawnee and the Comanche, the Utes would avoid taking scalps. They waited for desert darkness to fall. They silently passed the Navajo village and stopped above a small Spanish outpost where bearded ironclad soldiers worshipped statues and a king across the world. The tents sat to the south a small creek that disappeared into pinyon and juniper. There were not many of them and there were over forty horses in corrals and grazing under the watchful eyes of Pueblo slave children. Little Knife thought of his family in the Rockies. He thought of his younger sister, Spring Water and how she would do the Lame Dance when they returned in spring. He thought of Gray Sun and looked proudly at his boyhood friend Evening Bear, now donned in war paint and waiting. He watched the horses move in the corral. Muscles and large heads swayed. The mon-

Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 9 sters seemed peacefully aware of the Utes. An enchanted stallion stood guard over the herd. He was powerful like the bear and lion. Smart like the wolf. Fast like the elk. No one in the mountains would believe that these great creatures could come to the Blue Sky People. How could we ever get a horse like that back to our mountains? Three scouts were sent forward to watch the Spanish. When they returned they told of children horses that were kept near their mothers at the center of the herd then left behind at dusk when the remainder of the herd was removed from the corrals at dusk to be exercised and watered by only a few slaves. It was decided that we would attack at that time and take three colts. The majority of the herd would be stampeded into the Spanish camps to create alarm and diversion. A fire was started upwind from the sleeping Navajo. The Utes would then catch the colts and make off in the opposite direction across the creek and into the forest where others would whisk them away while we formed a rear guard. In addition to the horses we would seize food, slaves and maybe even a rifle or two. At dusk, we crept down into the lowlands near the camp and quickly stampeded the horses. The slaves did not try to prevent us from doing this. Some actually welcomed us and helped secure the colts. In moments the Spanish tents were engulfed in a galloping, terrorized herd. Most were engaged in catching the horses and not in defending against the at-

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tack. The Navajo were busy beating out fires. The Hopi slaves then crossed the creek and left with us. Four of our braves shot arrows at the Spanish and Navajo who followed across the creek. It was all so very simple. We had suffered no casualties. The Spanish gave little real chase due to concerns of more trouble with Hopi warriors nearby. They said: What importance is there in the theft of three colts when we have the riches of the new world at our fingertips. By the middle of the night the Utes were miles away following the moon north with their booty. By morning, they slept with the colts secured. A late spring snow fell as they saw the shining mountains to the north. The horses had calmed and were now enjoying the sweet grass and cool mountain spring water. We crossed the Chama a week later and would be home in a dozen sunsets. What would our people do when they first saw us with these splendid animals in tow? We would be greeted as great warriors. The elders would sit wrapped smiling in their blankets, the children would touch horse flesh, warriors would surround us beaming, shamans would tell of our exploits for centuries in the lodges at night. The Circle of Life would go on. By winter these colts would grow to great horses and would change every part of our lives in no time at all. - Kevin Haley

Page 10 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

Capitulation to Communists Would Spell Doom for Wal-Mart Shoppers In the event of a Communist takeover, would Wal-Mart survive, as we know it? Many Montrose shoppers are concerned that Russian troops have targeted the stores. (Montrose) Unreliable sources here contend that a Communist takeover would certainly spell the end for Wal-Marts all across the country. They say a Red victory and subsequent occupation could not tolerate a free marketplace, adding that Wal-Mart would be one of the primary targets of the god-less totalitarians. “The stinking commies would grease the WalMart bosses first, leveling Bentonville on the first day then heartlessly round up propaganda agents and store managers,” said Connie Sumer, an avid Wal-Mart fan who says she spends at least three hours per day roaming the aisles in search of bargains. “The Communists would send all of these fine Americans to reeducation camps where they would be forced to dig trenches and eat bugs to survive.

Missing Link Cornered at Town Hall

(Cahone) Local police here cornered an elusive shadow figure, believed to be the Missing Link, last night after a town council meeting. Details were sketchy as to what the visitor wanted or whether the mysterious stranger was simply a concerned citizen or a potential candidate for office. “He mumbled when he spoke and would not make eye contact with any of the other people in the meeting,” said Susie Compost, mayor of this Western Colorado town. “That

enThen they would allow their armed forces to en gage in massive looting wherein all Wal-Mart stores would be emptied of goods and burned to the ground.” Sumer went on to say that Wal-Mart employees, especially the hated greeters, would be earmarked for extermination as part of a purge aimed chiefly at the South and Midwest where the Wal-Mart mentality is “chronically imbedded” according to the Communists. “The Russian and Chinese hordes would goosestep their way down the friendly aisles from Orlando to Bismarck,” she spat. “A cherished American institution selling cheap Chinese crap would cease to exist.” In partial response to these alleged threats Wal-Marts in the United States and Canada have

alone would qualify him for many elected positions around these parts.” As the officers converged, the suspected Missing Link retreated through a hallway, jumped out of an open window and disappeared into the night. The transparent transient is wanted for questioning related to the Theory of Evolution. - Dag Katz

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beefed up security and mined parking lots in troubled neighborhoods and strategic superstore spheres of influence. Vodka sales will cease after six when applicable. “Them commies are after the superstores for sure,” said Sumer. “They want to drive us to our knees. Why the gov’ment here hasn’t started bombing the Commies is beyond comprehension. This time the blood will be on the hands of the liberals who sit by doing nothing while our culture is trampled,”

- Tommy Middlefinger Sumer’s comments in no way reflect the opinions of this newspaper

AB Bar-B-Q Safety Curriculum Slated

(Montrose) Colorado Fishy Game Officials have announced the dates for the 2011 Mandatory Bar B Q Safety Course. Anyone born after March 8, 1949 must comply with strict regulations by attending the six-week classes and passing a written exam before he can legally purchase an in-state barbecue license. Tourists and visitors wishing to obtain legitimacy in this regard can simply pay off a public official and get down with the coals. The classroom dates and times are as follows: Saturday, July 16 8am-5pm and/or Monday and Tuesday July 18 and 19 from 7–10 pm. Successful students will receive a fancy diploma that can (and must) be displayed at least three feet from the open flame when cooking. The academic agenda will focus on the proper use of matches, lighter fluid and charcoal. Applicants are reminded that they can gain extra credit by bringing along about 15 pounds of raw meat that will be used in various demonstrations conducted by master grillers. - Lawrence Elk

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“Small chins and all!” CREATION OF THE IRISH MADE EASY Despite desperate genetic reshuffling and stodgy literary denial, it remains clear to the cultured that the Hibernians (Irish) have inordinately small chins. The Italians have big mustaches, the Africans have curly hair, the Incas have enlarged lungs and the Russians have large foreheads. Everybody looks in the mirror. Everyone goes on. This little story offers the real truth of the matter but does not attempt to tie small chins to large thirst. The day that the Creator made the Irish was drizzling and chilly He had made the Italians and the Chinese the day before without incident, and sent them on their way. He had made the Brazilians and the Egyptians Tuesday while completing the Indians, the French and the Nigerians on Wednesday or was it the other way around? Sitting down at his favorite bench in his favorite chair, he closed the shop door so as not to be interrupted. This creation business was not to be taken lightly, even by the Creator himself. After laying out the parts to the first Irishman on a clean piece of parchment paper he began. He took the torso and the legs and glued them together. Then he added the arms and the head. This was the easy part. The interior work would be more difficult since he had not paid attention during high school biology, preferring to meditate on the mysteries of the Universe and the curious fate of this obstacle of rock that he called Earth. He carefully placed the kidneys and the liver, then oiled the knee and elbow joints and added hair in the appropriate spots. After several hours, the Irishman was coming together. His head was secure but he had yet to create a suitable face. “I know I have plenty of blue eyes lying around,” he thought, and maybe a little more red in the hair, then some well-placed freckles.

Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 11 Yes! Freckles!” The Creator went to work without delay. Seven days was not a long time to create an entire world, especially when one was yet to have a work force to perform the heavy chores. Now it was time for the more detailed approach to the face. He placed the eyes and the forehead, the ears and the nose, the eyebrows and the cheekbones. Then he came to the lower part of the face---the jaw, the mouth and the chin. Molding the jaw the Creator sat back and admired his art. This one was coming together quite nicely. In a matter of minutes, he would move on to the Spanish and the Polynesians. The he added the Irishman’s mouth with immediate repercussions. “A fine day to you Holy Father!” said a tiny voice from the bench. “And you’re doing such lovely work here. I just thought I’d take this moment to thank ye for all of the fine creating you’ve been doing. Why we’d be nowhere without…” “What?” whispered the Creator. “Someone is talking and I have yet to add the voice boxes or tongues!” “We don’t need all those accessories to carry on a conversation,” said the voice now clearly traced to the unfinished Irishman on the workbench. From the land of saints and scholars it is. We have the gift of blarney. After all, your lordship gave that to us. Just throw a little stardust and I’ll be on my way.” “All right. That’s enough bejabbering. There’s a lot more to creation than simple stardust. Keep you face still so I can finish the chin. I cannot complete your chin with your lips flapping. Keep quiet and I’ll be done with you and send you on your way like the others.” “I like your style. You have a distinct talent for creating people but why did you leave so

much water on the planet? With the population on the rise one day land will be at a premium and not all that salt water will be needed. Had ye thought that one out Holy Father? You with the long white beard and the piercing eyes. Had you thought about all that salt water… “Stove it Irishman! I will not have any more of your babble fouling up my workday. Now shut up or I’ll sew that trap closed!” “Now you wouldn’t do such a thing would ye? How about I bring some nice cabbages by in the morning. The price is good this time of the year. No? My uncle Paddy sells fine horses. We could go for a look if you like. They’re worth every penny he’d be asking. Maybe you’ll be needing a mount like St. Paul or Joan of Arc? Paddy’s name is O’Neill if that means a thing to you.” The Creator grabs for a round of thread, grabbing the Irishman by the neck. “Wait! Wait!” said the Irishman. “Not the needle and thread! No! I can behave!” “Well see that you do. I cannot get the chin in place when your mouth is moving. I am not interested in cabbages or horses this morning. I only want to move on to the Spanish and the Polynesians…” “Fine peoples all of them. Clean people!”… “Can it,” said the Creator eyeballing the thread. Don’t move. I almost have the chin in place.” “…and they are a lot better than those leprechauns and pucas that ye built. No criticism implied your lordship, but those fairies need a good talking to, arrogant bastards. Maybe you could…” “That settles it. I will be sewing your lips shut! Then I’ll put you on an island in the North Atlantic Ocean where you can’t bother anyone!”” CONTINED ON PAGE 25

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Page 12 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

The Movies is or are the Topic at the Cowboy Coffee Shoppe “Looks like gas prices are up again,” said Beans Crawford, stirring three spoonfuls of sugar into Frenchy Magiver’s daily notion of upscale coffee, and watching the boys from the Busted Flats Ranch pile out of one pickup rather than their usual half-dozen. “Yep,” said Frenchy, dropping the china doorknob into the coffee pot to see if it was really ready. “When cowboys start truck pooling, you know it’s gone over three bucks a gallon. And when they’ll ride back in the bed of somebody else’s pickup, it’s gotta be approachin four bucks.” The Busted Flats boys trooped through the door, all in knee-high irrigating boots. “Great,” said Frenchy under his breath. “They’re irrigatin; they’ll all be in a bad mood.” “All I know,” said Hoss Wilkins to Dewey Dewey, coming through the door, “is I’d like to see something new for a change. Not the forty-third sequel to something that might have been good once, back when I was a pup.” “Mornin, boys,” boomed Frenchy. “Been spreadin the water out to dry again?” “Damn, Frenchy,” Pete Granger observed, “the world may be blowin up, or blowin away, or just goin to hell everywhere, but one thing we can count on, is you usin that same stupid line every time anyone comes in with waders on.” “Well, that’s kinda good, isn’t it?” mused Beans Crawford, still trying to stir his coffee. “One thing in life you can count on?” “Wish that one thing was a certainty of good coffee when we come in here,” said Hoss. “What evil brew you got cooked up this morning, Fren-

Let’s Quit all the Horsin’ Around

chy?” He walked around the counter, looked in the coffee pot. “Whoa. Is that your china doorknob floatin there?”

Gives a guy something to look forward too.” “What I miss are the Westerns,” put in Pete Granger. “Used to be, about every third movie was a

“Yep,” said Frenchy proudly. “She’s ready – Magiver’s Manhandler Superstrength. Extra dark,

Western. Now – maybe one a year, in a good year!” “And they aren’t like the old Westerns,”

extra heavy, and extra bold.” He started pouring for the line of cowboys at the bar. “You wanta already

chimed in Luke. “Now the bad guys all have a good reason for being bad, and the good guys aren’t all

be awake when you drink this baby.”

that good, and the gal is as likely to save the guy as

“Look at this,” Beans said. “You can stand a spoon straight up in it. With only three tablespoons of sugar.” “What do you make this stuff with, Frenchy?” Luke Hopkins asked. “I start with a good base of Arbuckle’s finest,” Frenchy said, puffing up a little. “The rest is all secret ingredients.” Hoss took a sip. “Whew,” he said. “I detect the ahm-bi-ahnce of burnt rubber here – Michelins, I’m guessing … and a hint of old sock? And a definite undertone of motor oil, and – and an afterglow

t’other way round. Or they might all end up dead and who cares.” “What’s happened, I think,” said Hoss, “all the movie cowboys moved to the cities and got jobs as detectives. That’s the automobile done that – no way a horse chase can match a car chase for sheer squandering of resources and destruction of property.” “That may be,” said Pete thoughtfully. “But I do miss the horses.” “And the sunsets,” added Luke. “Yeah,” said Pete. “Last movie I saw with

of selected horse apple?” Frenchy looked a little deflated. “Well, you only guessed one of ‘em,” he muttered. Everybody reached for the sugar bowl. “Beans,” said Hoss. “You bein a retired

the hero ridin off into the sunset – he was at a full gallop, tryin to get away from a girl who knew his mind better than he knew hers. Or somethin like that.” “But this sequel bizzness, Beans,” Hoss per-

old farticulator, lots of time to sit around and think things through – wouldn’t you agree that the movies are goin to hell these days?” “How so?” Beans asked. “Nothing but sequels! This whole summer,

sisted. “Don’t you agree, they’re playin us for suckers? Sellin us the same old story every summer?” “It ain’t the same story, Hoss,” Dewey said. “They have different bad guys, doing different kinds of nastiness, and different pretty girls, and…only

we got nothin but reruns of the same old characters doin the same old things, with maybe just a change of scenery or a new pretty gal for the same old hero to save the same old way. There’s hardly a new idea out there anywhere.” “I don’t see why Hoss has his back up about this,” said Dewey, talking into Bean’s other ear. “If I liked ‘Die Hard’ last summer, I’m glad to see ‘Die Harder’ comin out this summer. And ‘Die Hardest’ next summer, and maybe “Just Do It” the next year.

the hero is the same. And isn’t that a good thing? Kind of like Jesus? God don’t change sons every year, does he?” “Whoa!” said Hoss. “Don’t go bringin Jesus into it!” “Huh,” said Beans thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty interesting way to look at it. The movie makers are updatin the savior for us.” “Sure,” said Dewey. “Didn’t California elect the Terminator for governor?”


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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page13



Are you visiting our world this summer? If so here is a preferred selection of attractions even you won’t want to miss!

WORLD’S LARGEST MARTINI - Located off Highway 135 at the Rockey River Resort Complex. This 700-foot cocktail was erected after the first Heeny Tick Festival in 1907. It requires the constant attention of some 130 full-time employees just to keep the thing cold. Funding cuts over the past few years have discouraged operations in the winter months when most thirsty residents switch to brandy or schnapps anyway. Official records estimate that it cost $6500 dollars per day to keep the facility open and that takes into account the low cost water generated power plant that was built with state lottery money in 1989. Guided tours are available on the half hour with a minimal admission fee of $12 (non-imbiber) and $75 (full services). A massive martini pipeline, that could supply some six counties with the beverage is on the drawing board and may be completed by Bronco season. Just for kicks don’t miss the Old Timer Vermouth Mill located just three miles east of Olive’s Gift Shop at Big Grandma’s RV World. SAGEBRUSH HOLOCAUST MUSEUM - This eerie monument seeks to honor the native sagebrush that is destroyed by bulldozers and asphalt each year. It was located in Peach Valley as of last night. HISTORIC MOTEL ROW - Located in Gunnison, this historical district has been completely restored and preserved for future generations. Many of the structures are available by the night or week and summer rates are reasonable. Take a walk back into the past as some of these motels were built as early as 1956. Park at Parlin and proceed west until you see the flashing lights! Selfcontained RVs welcome. Sorry but due to the ineffectiveness of the Gunnison Hysterical Society the landmark LaVeta Hotel, once perched on Boulevard Avenue, no longer exists. SLATE RIVER WHITE BUFFALO RANCH - View the rare white buffalo, an animal considered sacred by the Utes. No set hours. Either the buffalo are there or they are

not. Watch the parking on poorly shouldered Highway 135. Located between Almont and Jack’s Cabin adjacent to the Roaring Judy Trout Internment Center, which is closed to the public Monday through Friday and on weekends. FASTEST TRAFFIC LIGHT IN THE WEST - Located at the intersection of Main and Townsend in Montrose. Wagon trains passing through this valley in the early part of the century are still waiting to negotiate this stretch of road. After you enjoy a visit to this signal be sure to stop at the Slowest Traffic Light in the West located one street north. JURASSIC LEACH FIELD - This ancient collection of dinosaur dung can be enjoyed by taking Highway 50 to Whitewater then turning west into Unaweep Canyon. Proceed along Highway 141 past the Umetco nuclear sugar beet processing plant at Snyder Flats and on to the Pablo Escobar Landing Strip at Castro Draw. Cut back southeast on the dirt road to Tenderfoot Mesa and listen for the intense buzzing. Since the remains are not totally petrified, forest rangers caution visitors to hold their noses, wear old shoes and carry ample fly swatters in their vehicles. (Please clean up after your dog).

PEA GREEN CONSERVATORY RUINS - This architectural prototype once housed the infamous Pea Green Kazoo Orchestra and was the scene of the last pancake breakfast attended by William McKinley before his untimely assassination by an anarchist in 1901. Over the years, the orchestra played before such music lovers as King Edward VII, Tallulah Bankhead, Oliver Heaviside, J.P. Morgan, Joan Crawford, and Thomas E. Dewey who remains buried six feet under the rhythm section.

Main in Motion Montrose Main in Motion turns Main Street into a pedestrian mall every Thursday night all summer long. Featuring food, drink, venders, lots of live music and games the popular social event draws crowds from all over the region.

TOOTHBRUSH RECYCLING PLANT - Located in downtown Novocain next to the Toothpaste Tailings at the mouth of Bad Breath Gulch. See thousands of discarded toothbrush handles being forged into alarm clocks for export to the Far East. The bristles are melted down and turned into second-rate AstroTurf. We suggest one avoid this massive dental display while the Sarah Palin is in Colorado. She and her entourage have this attraction circled and have tied up all motel rooms within a radius of fifty miles. THE GIANT HOUSE - Located in Ouray’s chic Oak Street neighborhood, this 700,000 square foot structure was actually larger than the state of Rhode Island before the fire. Decorated with treasures pillaged from an assortment of Third World cultures the Giant House is designed to sink into the surrounding rocks in the event of a nuclear attack. Make sure identification papers are in order upon entering the lush grounds, as custodians are somewhat trigger-happy. Schedule your visit to the Giant House between noon and two and catch some pomp and circumstance with the precision changing of the realtors at the gatehouse of this exclusive development. These are only a few of the many attractions that await the visitor to Western Colorado. For a complete listing and further information on educational and illuminating tours and packages stop into your local tourist information booth. Tell them you’re Butch Cassidy and you’re looking for a few sticks of dynamite and an automatic teller machine. They probably won’t get it anyway. CAUTION: Do not heed the advice of seemingly friendly denizens as these reprobates take extreme pleasure in misleading the innocent. Although creative and dramatic in delivery, they will lie to you at every turn causing much consternation and an immoral waste of gasoline. NEVER confront them in their prevarications as they are all well armed, even the children. - Uncle Pahgre

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Page 14 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011



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Could Ancient Romans have made it to southwestern Colorado? Could a Roman legion penetrate the San Juan and Elk Mountains in the second century C.E.? If archaeologists had proposed such a hypothesis before last Wednesday, they would have been pitchforked out of academia. “I’d never entertain the notion,” said Professor Austin Tayshiss, who has spent his entire career disparaging such ideas – until a Roman coin was found a month ago in a prairie dog colony along the Slate River. Tayshiss, a University of Arizona antiquities professor, has since changed his mind and nearly needed to change his knickers after seeing the evidence mount. “This is no hoax,” he said. “Not only is the coin genuine, from about 114 C.E, minted during the reign of Emporer Trajan, but the rest of the evidence – mon Dieu!” “One coin a Roman does not make” was the dismissal acclamation from academia in the first week after the discovery. After all, a miner could have brought the coin to the area as a good-luck charm in the 19th century or some other scenario. But the coin was only the beginning. A field worker who had been observing the Gunnison’s prairie dog (Cynomys gunnisoni) colony near Crested Butte had failed to notice anything unusual after photographing the ground squirrels one day. This unique species of prairie dog has only 40 chromosomes, while all others, including Newt Gingrich, have 50. When the field worker uploaded her 6,302 photos, she discovered one Gunnison’s pup had more than just peculiar chromosomes. The rodent was holding up a Roman coin. The following morning the field worker, Ursa Minor, rushed back to the site, frantically searching for the spot where she had photographed the pup. She began sifting the dirt and political Siphonaptera at the den entrance, hoping the pup had not ingested the coin. “They’ll eat anything,” said Minor, “even presi-

dential candidates.” No coin was to be found. Minor began capturing the pups and interrogating them. One finally coughed up the coin. Once the coin had been identified, a small excavation was undertaken at the site to determine if other artifacts were present. On the fourth day of digging, the remains of several Roman swords were unearthed while prairie dogs barked their displeasure. The following day brought up various bits of armor, including part of a muscle cuirass, a pila, a pugio, and a scrotum, all items used by the Roman military. These were later dated to 98-117 C.E. “With such a plethora of Roman artifacts,” Prof. Austin Tayshiss pointed out, “this could mean only one thing: a Roman legion, or part thereof, had somehow come here to ski.” Tayshiss began reevaluating other Roman artifacts discovered in North and Central America since the 1920s. Most had been dismissed as hoaxes or as missidentified anomalies. “Particularly, we have the Tecaxic-Calixtlahuaca head,” he said, “positively identified as part of a second-century Roman statuette. This was discovered in 1933 in a pre-Columbian grave in the Toluca Valley in Mexico.” How did the Roman figurine get to Mexico in the second century? “Steerage class on a transatlantic steamer is out of the question,” said Hamish MacLopez, the international Scottish Roman Antiquities expert at London’s Museum of Irregularities and Roman Minutiae Society in Auchtermuchty, Scotland. “Pre-Columbian trans-oceanic contact in the Americas The Center for Mental is a hotly debated topic, but Health… because mental we have all these tantalizing health is health bits of body parts and armor, coins and potsherds stretching Worried about yourself or from northern Scotland to Icesomeone you care about? land to the coastal regions of  Call us at 252-3200 North America and the heart  For 24-hour emergencies, of Mexico.” In 1923 a Roman amcall 252-6220 ulet was found in a Brooklyn  To take an anonymous cellar during the exhumation self-screening, log onto of a murdered Mafia don. The amulet dated to 110-115 C.E.

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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page15


and the corpse to 5 Oct. 1922. A cache of Trajan coins was discovered on the coast of North Carolina in 1929. Unearthed in 1952, a stone on the east coast of Florida appeared to bear a Roman inscription, which dated to the first or second century, containing the partial words, “Flav… Ventris… annicus… Ebora….” According to Dr. MacLopez, the new finds in Colorado have suddenly brought the trail of Roman scraps into perspective. For decades MacLopez and his team have been searching for evidence of the fabled Lost Ninth, the Roman Legio IX Hispana, last seen in Scotland under the command of Flavius Ventris Britannicus. The legion’s fortress base was Eboracum (near present-day York) in the hinterlands of Roman Britannia during the reign of Trajan. Experts agree that the last inscription of the Ninth, dateable to around 108 C.E., is at York. No later Ninth inscriptions exist anywhere in the Roman Empire. From evidence strewn across Scotland, the savage land of the Picti whom the Ninth were assigned to keep at bay, MacLopez had long surmised that around 115 the wild Picti had the legion for lunch. Other scholars claim a partial roof tile improperly inscribed and found at a Roman fort in Nijmegen, Holland, proved the Ninth had been reassigned to the Continent. However, MacLopez explained, the tile is too fragmented to be used for such a vaulting conclusion. “Roman legions of this era were prolific with various inscriptions. These included grave stellae, altars, inscriptions recording construction, and legion stamps on manufactured materials, from lead water pipes to

clay tiles,” he explained. “A Roman legion strategically located to protect the northern frontier in Britain vanished from the archaeological record and the next piece of established archaeological evidence, the Aurelian columns, corroborates the legion no longer existed by 117 C.E.” Most importantly, the Ninth’s “Aquila,” the eagle standard of a Roman legion, carried by a special legionary called an “Aquilifer,” has never been found at any battle site. Consecrated by the Emperor’s own hand, a standard had deep meaning for the legionaries, identifying and protecting them. They would have held onto it at all costs. MacLopez’s team has found clues that the Ninth, about 5200 men, was overwhelmed after several running battles from York to the far northwest coast of Scotland. Part of the Roman fleet had just come into a bay near present-day Ullapool where they encountered the Ninth fleeing toward them with hordes of Picti close behind. “Picti stone carvings indicate the Ninth hurried into the ships, but many were cut down in their tracks and eaten on the beach,” said MacLopez. After this the record is mute – except for odd hints of Romans appearing on the coast of Iceland, North America, and Mexico. Both MacLopez and Tayshiss now believe the Ninth planned to sail south through the Irish Sea, but were blown off course, ending up in Iceland. “They must have been completely flabbergasted, awash in a sea they knew nothing about,” said Tayshiss. “Somehow they wound up on the outer reaches of North America, and had no idea what to do but follow the coastline until they could find their way back to Britannia or Rome, whichever they bumped into first.” Eventually the fleet and the Ninth, perhaps as many as 3200 men, ended up in Mexico. Tired of wandering for months or years, some must have stayed, marrying into the local tribes. Others pushed on, heading north into New Mexico.

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Oral tradition among Pueblo Indians described a throng of “turtle men” with whom they traded in the distance past, long before the Spanish invaders. The Spaniards themselves mentioned in their diaries of the San Juan region that they had found “ancient coins and a sword blade” at the present-day site of the Spanish mine in Poughkeepsie Gulch above Ouray. And now, a prairie dog dug up a Trajan coin along the Slate. But the artifacts couldn’t prove this site had anything to do with the Lost Ninth Legion. Until today. During the excavation, now headed by MacLopez and Tayshiss, several intact skeletons were discovered, one clutching the long sought after “Aquila,” the eagle standard. MacLopez was beside himself, a lifetime of searching at an end, his beloved Ninth found at last. Austin Tayshiss, on the other wing, was suddenly warm and wet all over, and had to find some dry knickers. A carved stone excavated near the library contains the words, “Flavius Ventris…maximus culus… stultus… damni… perditum… IX…blennus…” Scholars have translated this to, “Yellow Belly, the dimwitted big arse, has gotten us bloody lost and he’s too stupid to admit it.”

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Page 16 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011


room pcion from my Volcano Conce

The small boat arrived at the cloudy harbor in Motogalpa on a tranquil Sunday afternoon. After the chaos in Managua (lots of screaming and yelling as to who would hump my bag for a tip), followed by a dusty bus ride from mountainous Esteli to the ferry in Rivas/San Jorge, I was happy to be on the island of Ometepe. The journey across Lake Nicaragua (3089 square miles of fresh water second in size only to Titicaca in Latin America) had been entertaining enough, with the small boat bouncing vertically like a yo-yo on giant waves, passengers turning green, some

getting seasick. There were 30 passengers and only 25 life vests, a potentially serious equation albeit much appreciated by the fresh water sharks (Carcharhinas luecas) that, despite questionable Japanese harvests, still roam these rough waters. On the island, two volcanoes attached by a tiny isthmus, it was love at first sight. Green forests, rolling countryside, tremendous vistas and friendly Ometepinos all wrapped up on a tranquil island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. People have lived here for 12,000 years in distinct tall and short tribes that finally blended as one. For centuries, pirates ruled these shores plundering wealthy Spanish cities like Grenada and San Carlos. The volcanoes Concepcion (1600 m) and Maderas (1394 m) rise abruptly out of the lake. The hiking is superb. Climbing Concepcion affords one miraculous views of the lake and island with the Reserva Natural yielding to dwarf forests, cataratas (waterfalls), monkeys, parrots, butterflies and birds. There are petro-



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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 17

Waterfall on the way up Vocan Maderas

glyphs to examine too. Negotiating the often-muddy route to Volcan Maderas allows a trek through tropical dry to tropical wet forest and then into cloud forests with territorial howler monkeys and tropical flora. Near the top, a substantial crater lake is accessible with ropes. A local guide is highly recommended for safety and to insure your dollars go directly into the hands of local people. Many co-op farms and experimental agriculture stations exist on Maderas. Some offer primitive lodging, meals and work programs. At the end of the hike, our guides brought us to a dredged-out swimming hole complete with diving boards. One afternoon we taught a young man of 17 how to say, “I love you” to his wife in English. He followed through that evening with reportedly “grand results”. My Canadian friend suggested that he and I give our garage sale reels to these super-guides, who were using cumbersome 50-pound nets to catch fish. Reels cost about $50 in Nicaragua (and few fishermen ever have $50). Now they could catch twice the amount of fish. I thought they were going to cry (actually one did). The warm and friendly Hotel Istian is located on sandy Playa Santo Domingo, with its constant breeze. After a trip into Altagracia, riding on corn and rice sacks in the back of a pickup, I met up with 5 British Columbians, 2 Berliners and a lady from Tehran who, after my sterling recommendation, checked into the same hotel that afternoon. Now the dining room was alive and the happy proprietor wouldn’t stop buying me 12-year-old Flor de Cana Anejo, arguably the best rum in the world. The next morning from the beach I watch egrets and her-

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Official guides to ons local petroglyphs wade into the water in search of breakfast. I saw singing workers, riding their dilapidated bicycles to work, hauling tortillas for lunch with their omnipresent machete by their side. Most of the natives I met on Ometepe are not of this world. They have risen above their poverty and have embraced another spiritualism of natural beauty and true peace, Moreover, don’t forget the traditional chicken, beans & rice and salad for lunch…Actually here it is fish instead of chicken. In addition, the black bean and garlic soup is delicious especially with a few cold Victoria beers. At Hotel Istian one can enjoy sawfish, tilapia, mojarra or guapote, all grilled beyond perfection, in the dirt floor dining room. The chef, a mischievous cad tells us that he has at least seven girlfriends and that this is common for Nicaraguan men. An amused lady from Montreal asks how he has time to work. He smiles and goes on with the braggadocio, his adoring kitchen boys clinging to every word.

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Page 18 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

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Page 20 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

RESTRICTED BAGPIPE SEASON IRKS LOCALS (Gunnison) A Division of Tartan announcement that bagpipes would be prohibited from the field in sectors 67 and 68 has drawn the ire of many citizens groups here. For decades bagpipers participated in three distinct seasons with in-state residents having first shot at bellow licenses without incident. Back then, before the feds started fooling with the seasons everyone knew what was expected of him. The deer and elk were prompt. The hunters were polite. Autumn arrived in splendid fashion with double-reed melodies reverberating from hunting camps from Baldwin to Yahoo City. Today, bagpipes are banned in the woods due to a misconception on the part of authorities that elk tend to be hypnotized by the ancient sounds. Although the practice of calling prey with bagpipes is documented in the annals of Colorado hunting lore there is not one shred of proof that elk, or even deer have responded in person to the overtures. “Why do you think there aren’t any elk in Scotland and Ireland today?” asked one Tartan ranger who asked to remain off record. “It’s because the Celts seduced them with the pipes and blasted them to kingdom come,” he probed. “Then they served them up with potatoes and carrots, and onions if they had them. Where do you think the term corned elk comes from? The controversial symphonic hunting techniques, still preferred by the great unwashed, are expected to continue despite warnings from the gov’ment. Already several country and western artists have recorded bagpipe renditions of popular hunting tunes and the hot cakes are selling like discs. “They may have outlawed bagpipes in the woods but boom boxes, generators, TVs, RVs, ATVs, gourmet chefs and secretaries are still OK,” said one record promoter. “Let them try to dictate individual musical tastes. We’ll have the FCC all over them.” - Small Mouth Bess

Olathe Celebrates Hay Pride Week Despite threats of a boycott on sweet corn and yellow onions next fall the town of Olathe is going ahead with a scheduled Hay Pride Week it was announced today. Hay from all over North America will be displayed as the town rolls out the red carpet for the tenth time in eleven years. “The only year we missed was 1985 when Ronald Reagan sent our entire crop to the Russians for pancake mix,” said one hayseed and Hay Pride advocate. “In exchange we got subsidized and ended up with a couple hundred cases of Russian vodka. Now them’s some corn squeezins to be sure,” he coughed. “That kept the whole town toasted for most of the winter.” Although no schedule has been released, the event will feature bale tossing, wagon races, a pancake supper and a special appearance by Helen or Gabby Hayes impersonators. As darkness falls a free hayride will be offered for kids under 90 and several local residents will be inducted into the Irrigator’s Hall of Fame located over at Pea Green. The celebration will continue through the next day with yet another pancake feast (this one with sausages) and a noon concert by Hazel and the Haymakers all the way from Mack, Colorado. The festivities will then culminate with a candlelight parade through local haystacks in which participants again consume vast quantities of pancakes and wash them down with (aforementioned) chilled Russian vodka. Federal agents will attend to see that no illegal herbage is mixed in with the grass, clover and alfalfa common to the local fodder. -H.L. Menoken

Experts in our metaphysical department (just down the hall from the darkroom) insist that The Rapture, predicted by a California preacher, did in fact occur back in May and that on that day all of the good folk went up to heaven. If you are still here then it appears you did not qualify for the trip. Sorry, but be patient. If there is any justice to all this there is bound to be another Judgment Day for you people later in eternity.


(Mao Clinic) Researchers here say they have isolated a never before detected gene that may have a lot to do with a medical condition known as Statesboro Blues. These particular blues, made famous by a host of black musicians in the 30s and 40s, is said to affect the central nervous system often causing in-grown toenails, scurvy, chronic pediculosis, the gout, and other maladies due to what is often a temporary geographic disorder. The gene, at first almost undetectable, was discovered while scientists here were examining a crate of raw oysters under their microscope. The oysters were earmarked for a fundraiser. “We thought maybe a piece of lint or some hair had forced its way onto one of the slides,” said a hospital source. “We were about to eat lunch,” said Dr. Godfrey Daniels, a former physician at St Roscoe’s Memorial Carwash and Bad Food Bank in Bland Junction. “Someone noticed that our supplementary shipment of angels on horseback (raw oysters) had been tampered with. We then stuck one of the edible bivalve mollusks under the microscope for further scrutiny and the Statesboro gene was quickly identified.” Preliminary research indicates that there is a link between heredity and attitude, or, as one scientist proclaimed: “The inclusion of raw oysters in the diet may ward off depression.” “We were all certainly a lot happier after consuming the oysters and the vodka martinis didn’t hurt either,” she laughed. Called the “most important breakthrough in genetic research in over a decade” here at Mao, sources indicate more significant data may support these findings in the near future. Isolation of genes is quite complicated and most people wouldn’t like all that horseradish,” said Daniels. “Now let’s go to lunch.” - G. Roscoe Lovinggood

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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 21

The Tarzan and Jane Dialogues

Low Riders Banned from Engineer

Volume 17 No 63 This episode is brought to us in Saturday morning 1950s black and white by O’Hara’s Gourmet Food Powder and Pink Eye Lotion. For the animal in all of us. When it comes to livestock, you might just as well trust O’Hara’s! The scene: A tree house in tropical East Africa

Tarzan: Tarzan will sue. Jane: What? Tarzan: Tarzan not happy with Jane. Tarzan sue. Jane: Sit down dear. What seems to be the problem? Tarzan: Tarzan tired of eating bananas. Tarzan not like drapes in tree house. Tarzan not like way Jane treat monkey. Tarzan sue. Jane: This is really stupid. Who have you been talking to? Tarzan: Tarzan hire big shot lawyer. Have offices in New York, Los Angeles and Nairobi. Him real important. Him say so. Jane: So this attorney has convinced you that suing me will make life better? Tarzan: What Jane’s net worth? Jane: You’re looking at it. Tarzan: If Jane have anything else to say talk to Tarzan’s lawyer. Jane: I’ve been patient… Tarzan: Monkeys suing Bengarazzi chief. Chief suing Hutus. Elephants suing lions. Cheetah sue boy. Boy sue Cheeetah. Jane: Tell your lawyer that he’s barking up the wrong tree. Tarzan: Lawyer no bark. Jane: He will if I ever get my hands on him. Tarzan: Jane make threat? Jane: Just starting the facts, dear. Tarzan: Suing fun. Everybody suing everybody. Some even sue selves. Fun, Jane. Jane: Well have it your way. The way the courts are backed up it could take years for any meaningful litigation to surface anyway. Tarzan: Jane use big words. Lawyer say Jane try to intimidate Tarzan with big words. Jane: Tarzan should buy insurance in case he accidentally falls out of his tree house. Tarzan: Tarzan not afford loincloth. Give all money to lawyer. THE END

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The newly accepted standard for success or failure in our schools was stipulated this month at the federal level. Students will hereby be rated in comparison to how they measure up to a box of rocks. Academic achievement and failure will be determined by personal achievement based on whether or not the individual’s grades and test scores fall above or below this age-old benchmark thought to measure intelligence.


Today’s premier race features Proud Philistine against a newcomer Sarah’s Charm. We’d go with the older horse since some friends have had a chat with Sarah’s jockey and he agreed that his family would be far safer if he came in third. Later in the afternoon, the daily double features Amalgamated Princess in the Fifth and Sorrow Jumper in the final race. Bet these two heavy since our sources confirm easy access to the east gate stalls and a lack of security in the early morning hours before the first race. The question on the racing forms has been whether Galloping Goose will handle the extra pressure created by the return of Dove Extravaganza and his popular jockey Elmer Wadd. Let’s keep it clean here. We spoke to Elmer and he says Dove may take a fall in the stretch. He concluded that his chain of Chinese laundries would be far more secure if he got out of racing altogether before the spring card. Season record 115- 3. See ya round the winner’s circle!

(Ouray) Persons operating low-riders, hydraulic shocks, space-age woodies, RVs and ruptured Humpies have been prohibited from Engineer Pass due to clearance considerations. The pass, notorious for deep ravines and mounds of slippery shale, is often a substantial challenge even for four-wheeldrives. According to the United States Forest Service and the Colorado Division of Transportation street vehicles have no business traversing tight switchbacks and manipulating steep grades found on Engineer. Both say simple math should be employed to determine one’s rate of success in negotiating the route. In addition to the hazards of height, most of the banned vehicles simply do not have the torque to make it to the top. Hinsdale County officials have yet to decide what, if any action should be taken on their side of the pass, which is always in better shape. Many feel that if backcountry drivers make it to the top from Ouray they should not be restricted on the descent. They remind all drivers to check their brakes and parachutes before heading downhill.

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Page 22 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

Tooth Fairy Shot In L.A. (Los Angeles) Local police arrested Melvin Tool, 99, of Redondo Beach, charging him

with menacing and assault in the shooting of the Tooth Fairy at Tool’s residence last night. Tool’s son Slim, 74, had reportedly lost a tooth earlier in the day and had not informed his father that he was summoning the Tooth Fairy. As is the custom, he simply put his lost tooth under his pillow and went to sleep. When Tool arrived home from his job at a local slaughterhouse, he walked smack dab into the Tooth Fairy in the hallway and opened fire. Neighbors say they heard a series of shots at about eleven-thirty. When police arrived on the scene, they found Tool standing over the bleeding Tooth Fairy and his kid, Slim, crying his eyes out. The senior Tool was transported to jail, the Tooth Fairy rushed to Conquest of Paradise Mission Hospital and Slim was handed a quarter by the arresting officer. At press time, the Tooth Fairy, in stable but guarded condition, is expecting a complete recovery and should be back at work by Monday according to a union representative. - Fred Zeppelin SUMMER RECESS AGENDA

United States Congress

June – September 2011 The following issues, bills, concerns are slated for the combined floors (walls and ceilings) of the House and Senate unless those legislative bodies vote on an extension of seasonal adjournments, more vacations, further fact finding trips and acceptable absenteeism. 1. If California falls into the ocean would it be the Pacific? Should we send lifeboats or just let survivors swim to the beaches of Nevada? 2. Which are the best French Restaurants in the Virginia and Maryland suburbs? 3. What should we buy each other for Christmas? What are the lobbyists giving? When is the gift exchange? Will it conflict with campaigning? 4. Are there that many of us that are millionaires? 5. What are the merits of a proposed 50-cent stamp? Will the great unwashed be able to afford such luxuries? 6. What’s Hillary doing tonight? 7. Should we allow a Taco Bell to be built on the Capitol steps? Will it help determine serious immigration policies? 8. Should next year’s limos be black or white? What about the drivers? 9. Should we limit terms for Congressional caterers? 10. Is there a market for recreational vehicles YOU WON’T BELIEVE YOUR in Mainland China? Should we subsidize that EYES AND EARS! industry in hopes of exporting our culture to the less fortunate Yellow Peril? CUSTOM INSTALLATION 11. How did all these Irish get elected? SECURITY SYSTEMS & MONITORING 12. Should HMOs be responsible for cleaning TVs • Satellites • Home Theater Surround Sound up after themselves like we do? Big Screens • New Home Pre-Wire Home Networking

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Horseshoe Pleads Insanity -Beats Parking Ticket (Crested Butte) General Kashmir Horseshoe, 149, was absolved of all wrongdoing in municipal traffic quart here this morning. He had plead not guilty by reason of insanity to charges that he had illegally parked his fire-engine red 1938 Packard on Sopris Avenue some three weeks prior. A twenty-five dollar parking ticket plus towing charges were dismissed. Acting as his own attorney, Horseshoe claimed that he was not fluent in foreign languages and therefore could not be held responsible for breaking the law as spelled out through a series of confusing road signs. He offered to show conclusive proof that he was clinically insane and began throwing himself around the quartroom, drooling, babbling incoherently, his eyes rolling around in the back of his head. Then, after being restrained by the bailiff, Horseshoe claimed that he was tone deaf, legally blind, psychotic, gun-shy and stupid. He added that he suffered severe seizures, on the half-hour, brought on by chronic gout. He then explained the details of the evening in question and told the judge that a fine of that amount represented cruel and unusual punishment. At that point, he proceeded to produce a well-worn, beaded wallet void of any funds. On the wallet was stitched St. Louis World’s Fair. The only thing in the crude purse was a piece of ancient lint-covered chewing gum, which he offered to the judge to take home for her children. Dressed in a pink terrycloth bathrobe, a Union saber and unlaced Sorels, if he was guilty of anything it was overacting. “I find the defendant not guilty,” hollered the judge. “Now clear the quart before I change my mind and throw everyone in jail!” Upon exiting the quartroom Horseshoe tripped on a flight of stairs and fell violently to the ground spraining his tongue and knocking his eyelid out of kilter. He plans to sue for damages. -Thumbellina Etchabarron

Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page 23


I figured that in order to protect Labiana Fettuccine from her insane and murderous husband, the drug lord Alphonse, the best move was to head south across the Sonora desert on foot. The political climate was such that three travelers like ourselves-Nubulo Johnson, Labiana and Slagman P.I.should be able to disappear easily along the frontier and eventually become indistinguishable from the host of factions that were battling ceaselessly for control of the romantic and lucrative drug trade that flourished there. Johnson and I had spent a lot of time in the desert, but many years had passed since our last tragic and costly embarrassment down in Bancho Pilos. Along the border these days there had been plenty of changes, most of them unpleasant. But not much ever changes in the vastness of the pitiless and unforgiving wasteland, where there is no water, no shade from the relentless, blazing sun, and where the only route to survival is to travel by night. We were fortunate, in that there was a butter-yellow half-moon climbing up the eastern sky as night fell. We shuffled along the million-year old deposit of rocks and sand that would be our road bed for the first three hundred miles. I suppose each of us was keeping an eye on the path before us while at the same time being somewhat absorbed with our own thoughts. I was thinking that, while it was only eight hundred miles to Mexico City, at this rate it would take several years to get there. Slung across my broad and still muscular back was my favorite weapon, the Ithaca ten-gauge Automag, which was loaded with nine rounds of four-and-a-half inch Nitro-mags in double-ought caliber. Coupled with a leather pouch containing another hundred rounds, the arsenal was heavy enough that my butt was dragging after only a few miles of easy going. Along with a change of clothes, a sack of tortillas, some pinto beans, three cartons of Lucky Strikes and two gallons of cheap whiskey, there was a gallon jug of drinking water in my backpack. There was so much traffic on the border these days that I thought it would be a simple matter to replenish our water supplies from drug mules, which we were certain to encounter. If they didn’t want to volunteer a few gallons, like: “Oh sure Mr. Slagman, take as much water as you want, we’ve got plenty more,” the Automag would serve as what I thought of as the ‘persuader,’ as in: “You’re better off being thirsty than being dead.” Nubulo Johnson stumbled along in a drunken fog, wondering if he’d been played for a fool. His Tony

Lama snakeskin boots were fine for riding a bar stool, or even for tooling around town in his sixty-eight Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser. Out here in the desert sand his long and bony feet were already blistering and howling in protest. He was hoping to soon run into some of his buddies from the Sinaloa Cartel, and trade off the Tony Lamas for some L.L. Bean hiking boots. Although he was supposed to have carried five gallons of water in his pack, he had decided instead to load a case of Red Dog whiskey in there, disguised as some kind of yuppie designer mineral beverage. He had promised Slagman he’d bring the water, but saw no reason to, since he never drank anything but whiskey, back in the city. Nubulo Johnson knew the desert as well as any man alive, but it had been many years since he’d traveled there. If anything, there was less water out there than ever before. He figured that whiskey was mostly water anyway, and wasn’t too worried about it. He carried his favorite long gun, a .475 Weatherby magnum. The gun weighed fifteen pounds with five rounds in the magazine, and he had fifty more rounds in his pack that he’d hand-loaded one night during a drunken episode in the trailer court with his soon-tobe ex-wife, Remeculah. These rounds were wildly unpredictable and liable to explode in the chamber due to careless overloading with high-velocity powder, in case he found anything to shoot at, which was an event of high probability, given his pattern of frequent and vivid hallucinations. While Remeculah loathed him with deep passion, she liked to spend his money, and allowed him occasional access to her abundant favors in the hopes that he would one day meet his demise, or what she liked to think of as ‘the sweet release of death.’ She could then keep all his money for herself and her worthless boyfriend, Jake ‘the Snake’ O’Hoolihan. O’Hoolihan was a silver-haired career politician who could weep like a baby, lie like a dog, and steal welfare money from old women while at the same time convincing the voters that he had a ‘strong Christian ethic,’ and a ‘sincere appreciation of family values.’ Remeculah loved to watch him eat buckets of greasy fried chicken while his pinky ring flashed in the dim lights of her small but productive meth lab, and his three huge chins wobbled and quivered like some hideous pile of blood sausages. He constantly chortled about how easy it was to fool the voting public.

Three heads are better than one?

Johnson wasn’t sure what to do about O’Hoolihan, but he could guarantee that it wasn’t gonna be a friendly cruise on the Love Boat. He was thinking it might be a good idea to dump the guy out in the desert with some of the poor souls who he’d mercilessly gutted of their life savings with his particularly heinous ‘Family Values’ Ponzi scheme. Labiana Fettuccine walked between us. In her pack was, I assumed, plenty of water, a thirty-eight revolver with a box of fifty soft-nose bullets, some food, and a few items of clothing. What she actually carried besides the gun and shells were a large bag of moisturizing emolients, various conditioners, hair products and other feminine devices, many of which were totally unfamiliar to me. Instead of water, she’d packed two bottles of expensive wine and the rest was a large selection of delicate undergarments. Soon enough we decided to take a break. Everyone was tired, and Johnson was still drunk. We sat down in the sand, shrugging off our packs so we could lean against them. “Let me have some of that water Nubulo,” I said. “I thought you were bringing the water,” he cursed. “No man,” I said, “I got the whiskey, and you were supposed to have the water.” “That ain’t the way I heard it,” he grunted. “Well,” I said, “you heard it wrong.” “The lady, she’s got plenty of water,” he growled. “No,” said Labiana, digging through her pack, “I needed all the space for this wine,” she giggled, “and of course for all my feminine products.” I felt just like the politician who’d self-immolated in the first week of his campaign for the presidency: eight hundred miles to go, and only a gallon of water between the three of us. What really surprised me was Labiana, who sounded like several other public and well-paid figures who, when caught cheating on their wives with high-priced hookers and porn stars, said: “Oh Slagman! I’m deeply and sincerely sorry.”

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Page 24 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

AMA Recommends Porch Sitting

“I’m so upset that I could almost explode!” says Senator John

McCain who wants to cut the deficit but supports a burgeoning military budget like so many talking heads in the Congress. Many who favor tax cuts for the wealthy and the continued payment of oil subsidies insist that cutting social programs and privatizing Medicare will improve the fiscal climate and that money will soon trickle down from the sky.

(Warshington) In a total reversal from previous directives, the American Medical Association now heartily recommends that people engage in porch sitting for a minimum of three hours per day. The group further discounted notions that exercise is the real priority and even implied that too much movement could be harmful to the general health. “It doesn’t matter if people lounge around on the porch in the morning or get their three hours in after dinner,” said Dr Simon Lackluster of St Roscoe’s Clinic over in Virginia. “People who are in good shape should welcome the relaxation while our nation’s fat folk could implement a combination routine of healthy eating and exercise before embracing quiet time on the porch.” The AMA has recently released a slick pamphlet called “Safe and Effective Porch Sitting” which is available at progressive pharmacies throughout the country. It clearly outlines methods of porch enjoyment listing accessories, furniture and even attire to assure correct application of loafing, or porching, as enthusiasts call the inaction. “Some of the great Southern writers, such a William Faulkner and Tennessee Williams set an entire novel on the porch,” continued Lackluster. “One could see everything from the porch, which often lead to family conflicts and exposed deep emotional scars there on so many rocking chairs and swings.” Porch sitting crosses socio-economic lines and, in most cases does not create problems so far as race, religion or gender preference, depending who shares the porch. One often asked question regarding these restful concepts is “What if I don’t got no porch?” The answer, according to medical journals is simple: “Get one.” - Ripple Van Winkle

Doctors Agree


According to a recent press release from the Armenian Medical Association, the liberal application of gin at regular intervals is the only known cure for the malady known as giardia. The findings come after almost thirty years of major research conducted somewhere in Asia Minor. A giardia is known to be the parasite found in mountain streams and rivers during run-off. It enters the ecosystem via the daily deposits of herd animals, angry at the current pecking order and at the human race in general. They blame most of their ills on people and are religious in their input capacities. Symptoms of the dreaded illness include headaches, cramps, fever and other unpleasantness not conducive to an enjoyable dining experience. According to people dressed up like physicians at Makhachkala Research Institute, gin acts as a deterrent to the aims of the parasite often rendering him a babbling fool after only a few drinks. It is at that exact point that the human body’s red corpuscles kick into fourth gear and effectively exorcise the freeloader from the system. Once extracted he is shunned by fellow parasites and must leave town. “It’s a lot like watching drunks get thrown out of the bar on Bonanza or Gunsmoke,” said one physician whose only exposure to American culture is through the television set in the emergency room at a local hospital. “It is both an educational and a rewarding sight to behold.” The researchers went on to warn that the regular abuse of gin could invite other problems such as ulcers, blindness and premature senility but that this is not likely. “Just be certain that the gin is iced down properly and served with a minuscule splash of vermouth for proper digestion,” continued the press release. “An olive or two would be of great value as well,” it said. One local doctor called the entire concept of gin curing giardia “nothing but poppycock” yet was quick to add that if someone was already taking this prescribed medication they would be well advised to complete the treatment. - Rex Monteleone


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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page25

Cowboy Movies


I’m gonna put up with all that, I wanta at least be important to the success of the show.” “Huh,” said Hoss. “You’re gettin weirder, the older you get, Beans.”

“Yeah,” Pete said. “And he just about terminated California.” “So now we need a sequel to finish that

“What you gotta admit,” Dewey put in, “the theater can’t match the special effects in the movies. Those are sure gettin bigger and better.”

job,” suggested Beans. “But to tell the truth, Hoss, I don’t watch movies anymore. I just watch films.”

“Bigger, for sure,” agreed Luke. “Like in ‘Never Say Die 14,’ when that nuke went off under

“Films?” Dewey asked. “Aren’t movies and

the oil refinery – man. I wonder how they do those

films the same thing?” “What the hell, Beans,” Hoss said with disgust. “You’re goin highbrow on us. Where around here do you get to see films?” “In the privacy of my bedroom,” said Beans. “I got me a fifty-inch plasma entertainment center, and a Netflack subscription, and I can draw on the whole film oeuvre.” “I remember once me and Kathy watched a


movie in the bedroom,” said Luke wistfully. “I don’t think Beans is talkin about that kind of movie,” said Pete. “That’s another thing about the movies today that bothers me,” said Hoss. “Too many

The immediate effect was Hoss leaping up and heading for the door. “That does it! Back into the open air, you worthless pokes.” “Damn,” said Frenchy, getting out the air freshener as the Busted Flats boys dribbled out the

people watchin ’em at home, instead of goin to the theatre with everybody else.” “Yeah,” said Pete. “Loss of community, all that.” “Well, I never quite figgered that one out,”

door. “I wish they’d leave sometime before Lefty unloads one of those.” “It’s the coffee, he told me,” said Beans. “That smell better?” asked Frenchy, squirting liberally.

said Beans. “What do the movies have to do with community? Especially here? They’re made somewhere else, about somebody else, and if everyone in town showed up, we still wouldn’t get a chance to change the way it comes out. I’d rather go see the melodrama at the Arts Center. The audience at least makes a difference there; you laugh, or boo, or judiciously throw popcorn, and the actors get inspired and energized and the show just gets better and better. “If I’m gonna put on my good shirt and boots and go to the theater, get my boots all sticky in somebody’s spilt pop, and listen to people whispering or talkin on their cell phones behind me – if

“Smells like somebody pooped under a pine tree,” said Beans, hazarding another sip of Magiver’s Manhandler. ***

If you are reading this ad, the world did not end…

“Yeah,” said Dewey. “That one was something else….” A short meditative silence followed, as everyone remembered his own favorite special effect – then the quiet was rudely but richly interrupted as Lefty Forbish lifted his left cheek (Lefty was leftcheeked) and delivered a resounding and ripe special effect of his own.

“Small chins and all!” CONTINED FROM PAGE 11

“No, please I’ll be quiet. I’ll be a quiet as a little mouse sitting on your bench. As quiet as a shamrock. As quiet as the ould sod itself. Real quiet. Don’t you think my ears are a bit large for the rest of me?” “No more talking until I am done or I will skip the damn chin and send you off like you are with a big mouth and only a tiny chin. You will go down through the ages without the final piece. You deserve to go chinless with such a mouth on you.” “…and so what if we go without chins? We have mouths, good teeth, blue eyes and big ears. We have the gift of words. You have made us that way. Why punish us now for what you have done? By the by, when do you expect to get started making Guinness? “That does it. Get off my workbench. You are finished as you are! Go ye forth into the great abyss CHINLESS! “One last thing, sir…before I go I’d be wanting to talk to you about changing the venue, you know, the location of the Emerald Isle.” “What’s the matter with the present locale. It may not look like much now but after the Druids and the Celts show up it should be a roaring good time.” “Oh no it looks lovely to be sure. It’s just the proximity to England. Surely, there will be trouble. We would prefer somewhere warmer like Corsica or Sardinia. Go ahead…Skip the chin and deliver us to the Mediterranean!” - Melvin O’Toole According to insiders, the Colorado Rockies are desperate for an organ transplant. How can a franchise be taken seriously without an organ playing in the background at home games? Coors Field offers lots of sideshows but is lacking in the real keystone traditions that baseball purists love. In addition, Tulowinski needs to change his first name to Stosh or Stan and move to third base. Above we watch as Woodrow Wilson throws out the first pitch at a Washington Senators game in 1920, which has little or nothing to do with organ music.

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Page 26 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011

Alpine Astrograph

Is your birthday not included here? Call our handy 900 number and talk to real live astrologers about your deepest secrets. Two astrologers at once slightly more. $9.95 per minute (minimum three minutes). In Colorado and Utah dial seven and stay on the line. GEMINI (May 21 - June 20) Small children can become hostile toward tattoos in the lazy afternoon. Flying coach is for morons. Double the pleasure for another this month by going away. Keep all plans vague and the fog lights on the dim switch. A pet is bored and may seek other accommodations. Get a second opinion on metaphysical matters. Spend time with household garbage this evening. CANCER (June 21 - July 22) Before jumping feet first into a joint endeavor remember that cultivation for the purpose of distribution is still illegal and can result in the confiscation of property and a jail term. Be smart, stick to alcohol and nicotine abuse, and leave the moralizing to the cops. Tonight: Hold off on that second career until you earn a paycheck from the first one. LEO (July 23 - August 22) Handle routine with alacrity. Going after intangible rewards may prevent tactile disappointments later on. Authority figures look better than you do


in that skimpy bathing suit. It is always a better time spending someone else’s money. The Libran qualities of tact and courtesy will emerge today. Sadly, you are a Leo. Tonight: The uncanny ability to speak Algonquin through a soda straw could save you major embarrassment. VIRGO (August 23 - September 22) You exhibit incredible consistency in that everything is truly overwhelming. Reduce the risk factor by hiding indoors during daylight hours. Avoid mass transit, bicycle paths, dog classes and depressing conversations at happy hour. Ooops… Looks like it’s time to focus on personal hygiene again. Make an important decision this morning. If you cannot afford a decision the court will appoint one for you.

it has left the ground first. Never rent a house to transient dog handlers! Complete all hangovers. Keep plugging away at life. Persistence is the key. Compensation will come in good time. Then you can kick back and enjoy the limelight armed with the proper sunscreen. Please gargle before exhaling. Tonight: Draw the grapes. AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 18) Nuke the Moonies and Moon the Nukies! Morning worship is not defined as two hours in front of the mirror. Wash your heavy loads on the gentle cycle. Do something nice for livestock. Beware of whiskered men carrying machetes. Keep to the gutter and avoid a lot of extracurricular socialization. You have no right to walk up here on the sidewalk with the rest of us.

LIBRA (September 23 - October 22) Don’t spend valuable time analyzing every situation down to the marrow. The guy in the produce aisle does not systematically stack pears and apples by number and weight. The telephone operator does not memorize all the numbers in the Colona phone book. Counting cracks in the ceiling is not considered disturbed in the present culture. It is always better to be obsessive compulsive than compulsive obsessive, or is it?

PISCES (February 19 - March 20) Roll up your sleeves and get your fins into your work. Summer is a good time to add those little artistic touches that you have been thinking about in your abode. Change the color of the little coral pebbles, try tinted glass for more privacy, add a few shells and check the water temperature. Be sure to stay in the little net during cleaning time. Oops! Don’t get so near to the filter...Oh no! Easy come...easy flow.

SCORPIO (October 23 - November 21) A romantic interlude will sputter, stagger, limp, crash and burn right before your blood-shot eyes. Alcohol could help prop up a failing ego but only if you keep drinking. Stop repeating yourself. Intelligent people will surely get the message the first time. Stop repeating yourself. Simplify travel plans by staying in the bathtub until pruned. Tonight: Stop repeating yourself.

ARIES (March 21 - April 19) Experiencing chronic cabin fever in the middle of June does not forecast a satisfactory winter. Health problems will subside with a biotech diet. Is that a tomato in your pocket or are you just glad to see me? The planet Mercury has assumed a forward motion but your Cougar has four flat tires. Relax, lots of people with six fingers do fine in government work.

SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21) Although you generally say the right thing, it’s to the wrong person. Build a better mousetrap and someone will jack up the price of cheese. Is your head half full or half empty? The days are getting brighter but your attention span is not. Visit an incarcerated relative. Sticking your neck out may not amuse the hangman. Wash your hands thoroughly after exhibiting good judgment.

TAURUS (April 20 - May 20) Pursue pleasure. You will run into enough pain without exerting any unnecessary effort. The world is a video game and you are stuck with only folding money. Be receptive and not deceptive while outflanking anal-receptive tendencies. Taking advice from strangers based on astrological movements and ancient constellations will get you nowhere fast. Listen to your parents.

CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19) Jumping out of an airplane is fine. Just make sure

- Kashmir Horseshoe, Astrosurfer.

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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page27

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Riding Mowers Cause Hemorrhoids Says Doc

(Montrose) The regular use of riding mowers may cause an explosive situation that could result in chronic hemorrhoids, according to a retired physician here, who apparently has nothing else to do but make these kinds of statements. The doctor, who demanded anonymity, said that people would be far better off pushing a mower around than sitting on one. He adds, upon further reflection, that sitting down itself could be the whole problem. Other unconfirmed reports suggest there may be something to all this. In tests conducted by a secret government agency in a disclosed spot somewhere in either North or South America, it was clear that Third World citizens who did not have access to riding mowers did not suffer from rectal-related diseases and maladies. A second study, which investigates the effects of diet upon the body, is expected to begin in July. The local physician explained that the vibration and bouncing associated with mowing the typical Rocky Mountain lawn is the root of the problem, but added that everyone who has ever used a riding mower will not get hemorrhoids, but will probably get fat. ˇ Hopefully readers appreciate the discomfort that this reporter has endured to bring you this piece. Last week it was a dog show that had to be covered and the week before it was a story on management changes at the landfill. My career is about shot unless war breaks out in Grand Junction or my editor finally discovers the hidden talents lurking under a tuna fish sandwich in my copy basket. -Zorro DesPlants

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TOBACCO INDUSTRY BANS FEDERAL GOVERNMENT (Winston-Salem, NC) Combined elements of the American tobacco industry have refused to budge on a decision to ban the existence of the federal government here. Saying that the government is overly expensive, secretive regarding ingredients, and run by greedy, self-indulgent old men, the powerful tobacco lobby has given the feds until the end of the week to clean out their desks and vacate a host of buildings all over the state. It is expected that tobacco-growing states Virginia, South Carolina and Maryland will follow suit as a remote government printing office in Charleston (SC) was fired upon and quickly surrendered last night. “It is painfully obvious to us,” said Fred Butts, of the Phillip Morris Corporation, “that the government is dangerous to your health.” In addition, Butts concluded that a warning shall be placed on the forehead of every federal bureaucrat doing business in North Carolina and that pregnant women without husbands should avoid contact with the Bush Administration.

Horseshoe One Hour Late This Month (Gunnison) The San Juan Horseshoe hit the streets one-hour late today due to “unexpected tire pressures and a melodramatic malfunction at the highest levels”. For an assortment of citizens who plan daily, even weekly, schedules around the paper’s press time the screw up was a devastating blow in what are already unstable times. So, in compliance with company policy the circulation department would like to wish you, our cherished reader, a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year a little early this year, in order to divert your attention away from our inexcusable tardiness. It won’t happen twice. And that’s a promise from the new rubber band specialist that we hired this morning. Thank you. “When the right time comes you shall all lose your heads.” - The Queen of Hearts

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Page 28 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011


“Our Brothers on the Ground” a documentary about humans, shot exclusively by primates, is reportedly in the can and will be released this summer. Above we observe a cinematographer engaged in his trade.

CIVICS PRIMER World Bank – an organization that lends money to the current leaders of a country to be used as they see fit and to the military to control the people. Demands for payback of loans can often scrap social programs for the poor. Despite changes in leadership and/or political direction, the people are still responsible for the debt. Debtor Nation – One where the Brahman banks have robbed the coffers blind causing them to have to borrow huge sums of money to keep the charade in motion. Consumer / Mass Corporation: An invisible screen (legally with the same rights as an individual but not the responsibilities of same) that concerns itself solely with profits for itself and its shareholders at the expense of workers who are paid little to nothing for their labor. Multiplied, this system will create great fiscal disharmony and destroy the middle class while creating a nation of ignorant sheep.

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Comma: I used to be a hyphen, before I went back to night school. I just couldn’t imagine a lifelong career linking compound words. Period: Bush league at best. Comma: Tedious. All that running from one line to the other just to link words that have expressed a desire to remain independent. The language is forever emerging, changing. You savvy? Semicolon: Yes, I’ve had graduate study...How do you think that top dot got there? Question mark: How? Period: I thought it was a typo. Apostrophe: Cut the proprietary whining. You guys carry far too much baggage but no real weight. I’m the one who substitutes for omitted letters and shows possessive case in nouns. One little mark in the wrong place changes everything. Comma: Nouns...They are so self-centered, so predicated. Semicolon: I once knew a verb who could twist herself into an adjective, then back to an adverb, before returning to her original status. Talk about tense! I could tell she was a bit irregular but when I found out she was intransitive I knew it would never work. Period: Was she copulative? Question mark: Who? Semicolon: None of your business. She was in limited contexts, but finite was not in her vocabulary. I don’t know if I was in love or just eager to conjugate. Dash: Sudden breaks! Sudden breaks? I used to be in demand. Now I’ve got to hustle work. What is this English language coming to anyway? It’s bad enough most of them can’t speak in the proper verb tense and often use the wrong word in speech. It’s downright embarrassing to watch them spell phonetically, never mind mastering another tongue... Comma: There will always be brackets and principle clauses to take care of these kinds of people. Just be glad you’re a punctuation mark and you’re ruled by very distinct circumstances. These people who use us are still trying to figure out where to put the the case of quotation marks...” Quotation mark: “Did someone call me?” Apostrophe: Pompous ass, talking in quotes. Before long he’ll be speaking in italic. Parentheses: You mean like this? Quotation mark: I just don’t get the attraction or the slant as it were. Exclamation point: Sentence construction at eleven o’clock! All hands on deck! Question mark: When? Period: Is that an indirect question? Don’t just stand there: It’s probably one of us that they want at the end of the sentence. Grab a couple of commas and a semicolon and follow me! FULL STOP

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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page29

ROCK SOUP Needed: Rare adjectives, articles, pronouns and colloquialisms for going newsletter. Cash paid daily. See Mr. White at the Indian Massacre Holiday Inn between 10 am and 2 pm any day but today. Sorry, we are not accepting adverbs. American Word Brokers, Tacoma. No Irishmen. SOLDIERS NEEDED for invasion of Maryland, Pennsylvania and the North! No experience necessary. Will train. Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the Confederacy. Send all correspondence c/o General R.E. Lee, Richmond, VA. Department store Santas needed for next Christmas. May consider full time employment for right individual. Springs and summers off. Warren’s Coiffures, Wimpton. It’s simple: Large intestinal publishing house needs people who look like writers to pose for future book covers. Novels, short stories, annual reports... If you’ve ever been told you look like Ernest Hemingway, Langston Hughes, Edith Wharton or even a teenage Ayn Rand call us today then fax us a picture of your forehead and we’ll set up an interview? Why work at Subway or Taco Bell when you can make the big rockets as a literary model! Talk show appearances likely. Testosterone Brothers, Boston. Help wanted: Rabbi for extended kosher Martian voyage. Box 44, Horseshoe. Needed: Someone to buy me shots during January and February so as to ward off light seasonal depression. Application deadline December 5. Bilingual septuagenarian with bus tokens. Non smoker. Grass clippings on request. Prefer older lady with marijuana plants and functioning hot tub. Groppo the Elf. Want to go all the way with a man-child? Herb, Gunnison Monikers.

Proof reader needed. Must be able to tango in snow shoes, cook barbecued horse mackerel, bum cigarettes and pretend to iron underwear of night staff while they pretend to work. Could work into winter bath house management position at Mirror Lake. Death row pen pal seeks full figured woman for bridge partner. My mom says I’m just misunderstood. Ahoy in Anacortes. Oh, yeah...I’m innocent too. Suburban mountain man/weekend warrior with big ol’ knife seeks squaw to cook and put up tee-pee. Must be naive with braided hair. Bad whiskey, tall tales and jerky dinners by fire light. Mornings poring over buckskin fashions, hallucinations in the afternoons. Slim, Delta. Drugstore cowboy seeks lover with access to pharmaceuticals. No buckaroos. Possible romance with right prescription. Box 400, Colona Prison Complex. Born Again proctologist seeks weekend rendezvous with person holding a British passport. No questions asked. I love palm trees, sea breezes, hot salsa and truck driving songs. Heather, Mack. No fems. Drifter seeks meaningless sexual experiences, light lunches. Could work into long term mundane relationship for the right person. Could you sell refrigerators to Eskimos? What about coming aboard with us? Mel’s Underwear Tighteners Ltd.. Manufacturer’s Rep needed for Montrose-Delta counties. If

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Erotic baseball and football cards. Also lewd kites, off-color phone books and perverted butterfly collections. No real estate salesman please. Bert, Box 3, Horseshoe. Will the driver of the white Cadillac limbo please return my spiked heeled shoes before my Russell Stover shift on Monday. This is no Cinderella hustle, Mac, just send the shoes. You know who you are and I’m pretty sure I know who I am. Louella Smelt, Karmaville. Lewd, lascivious, luscious lady looking to locate with lovable lustful, liquid lad for longterm living. No lowlifes. Let’s lunch. Blind Box L. Crested Butte. SWM Ivy Leaguer seeks submissive trellis. Leave message where you purchase lawn food. Best strippers! Playgirl knockouts! Muslim holy men! Darkroom technicians! John Madden impersonators! Red’s Hollywood Showbar, Gunnison and opening soon in downtown Saguache. Looking for unusual rock formations and mineral samples for new ADULT ROCK SHOP in Ouray. Do you have anything like this? If

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Page 30 • San Juan Horseshoe • Summer 2011 you look at it and it makes you giggle, I’ll probably buy it! Bring in your specimens, in a plain brown bag to the phone booth near Rose’s Market. I will approach you at that time with a reasonable offer. Must move 1965 Victorian toaster. Twodoor. Automatic transmission, R & H. See Wanda in accounting department before Friday. Wooden teeth, pornographic jello molds, plutonium money clips, aluminum palm trees, cloth birds, personalized pine cones. Will not break up sets. Great gifts. Pat Rat’s Emporium, Manana. Will trade exercise bike for large pepperoni pizza. Melvin Toole in the darkroom Tuesdays. Oral Roberts was a cheerleader before he underwent a sect change operation! Get it? Thousands of great jokes like this one can be right on the tip of your lips. Preachers, teachers, politicians, speech writers, college professors, salesmen, barbers...anyone with a mouth can benefit tomorrow! Cheap. Cole D. Sack Press, Sand Creek, CO. Burly man needed to break up fights in church parking lot. Rev Phil Pharisee, Colorado Springs.

Joe and Melissa (and Linda, not pictured) have recently opened the Trail Town Distillery for tasting and purchase of locally distilled spirits. It can be found on Palomino Trail east of Highway 550 in Ridgway. Turn left at the county’s only traffic light.

Spend the night in Balmoral Castle. No commoners please. Call Queen Elizabeth on her cell phone mornings only. Lost: Rolex and keys to Saab at sweat lodge night. Troy, Crested Butte Newcomers. Substitute Preachers needed for academic year. Must be aware of secular humanist theories and conceptual tithing. Degree in collection basketry helpful. Punitive Leap Council, Malfunction, CO. Odor Eaters Anonymous will not meet during the week of September 17 due to a conflict in scheduling. Please perform ritual alone. Zorro Skiboote, Executive Podiatrist.

Willing to trade lucrative chicken trimming operation (going concern) for poorly constructed condo at Mt. Crested Butte. Reply before lunch. Henny Penny, Colona.

Hunting camp seeks qualified potato peeler

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with political science degree to entertain armed men throughout October. Good pay and grub. Mother’s Guide and Outfitting, Lake City. Also hiring zero altitude dancers and escorts for weekends. No Irish. Woodsy nurse needed to assist amorous tree surgeon. Dr. Bark, Pitkin, CO Will trade magic beans and bothersome trespasser for functioning milk cow - The Giant. Also need someone with tools to rewire my castle. Beanstalk Ventures, Wimpton. Industrial windmills guaranteed to break wind every time or your money back! Donald Quicksote, Montrose. Free to good home: Straw dogs. Ready for winter. See Alfalfa any afternoon at Stymie’s Bar and Grill. For sale: 1982 Buick Skylark. Once owned by George Foreman. $300 firm. Red’s Box Springs and Mindless Country Music Emporium. Manana Mall.

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For sale: Cardboard Starter Home with flat roof and pitched walls above semi-finished basement adjacent to lawn and potential garden. Lots of native rocks and views of loading docks. Growing season questionable. Doors and windows excluded. Many perfect sites on which to park junk cars. On garbage route. Neighbors are loud drunks who dress poorly. Nearby pasture once productive cotton field but now off limits. May part out to right person. Canine fertilization ongoing. Pirate entrance on alley. $450,000. I am a licensed Colorado Real Estate Broker. Free to a good home: Lazy teenagers. Some already in baggy pants. October Special: Take two and the third one is on us! Parents Anonymous, Montrose and Delta.



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Summer 2011 • San Juan Horseshoe • Page31

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San Juan Horseshoe 2011 Summer Edition  

The San Juan Horseshoe summer edition; Refried news since 1977.