Letter by Clay Warren
Mountain Life – October 1998 – Colorado Central Magazine
We gotta do our share to keep the industrial complex cookin’ along
Thet fellow Ron Baird’s article about Chama reminds me o’ the punch line in that joke where the canary climbs out o’the dung pile and warbles himself right into the cat’s mouth. Keep yore lip buttoned bub, or 10% o’ the front range will move in on the strength o’ yer recommendation.
As far as Bunie becoming the new Aspen, man! That’s a stretch in 4 directions at oncet. But ah did like that reference to the “neo-hippie.” Ah got ta tell ya pard, ain’t no real hippie goin’ ta have a problem with 2 Road meeting 18 Road. Hit would all make jist perfect sense to one o’them, and so would crossing the Continental Divide twice and still wind’n up goin’ the same direction.
Ah bin wonderin’ if that fella with the hemp shoes didn’t make a bit much out o’ their composition. Ah mean, did they have a great big funny lookin’ leaf sticking out from between the laces or sumptin? While we’re on the subject o’strange lookin’, ah’d have enjoyed thet piece about the dolls a whole lot more if one o’em hadn’t looked quite so much like one o’ my x-wives, the one we refer ta as the wicked witch o’the South.
But to git on to the central theme of the September issue, We now know “Whar the Beef” is located. Although I was havin’ somewhat of a difficult time tryin’ ta decide when rugged individualism left off, and divide and conquer began. However ah will say that the second best T-bone ah ever ate, was a Coleman Natural, but the best come from the establishment run by Terry “Squeeky Clean” and his brother, Jim Scanga. Terry, also known as Mr. Fastidious to his close friends, don’t even like to see me come in the front door, fer reasons we wont discuss in a family publication.
Speakin’ o’ families, hit seems that now that the real superpower o’ the Ruskies has been exposed as tissue paper, and the Chinese ain’t quite developed into a matching threat yet, kids have indeed become “the Enemy.” The gazebo bandits is jist too rude and ugly fer a tourist to stand? What the hell national news program does thet woman watch ennyhow? Besides the Nation has jist got to do sumptin to keep that military industrial complex cookin’ right along. So what if hits yere local police that benefit from the new weapons and technology.
However, the kids do seem ta go out o’ their way to make themselves targets o’ the easily, and some not so easily, irritated fellow citizens. That’s probably why callin ’em young adults is grossly inaccurate. Effen they was any type o’adults, they wouldn’t act that way in the furst place. My uncle LeRoy bein’ a prime example.
Lastly ah jist got to say somethin’ ’bout snakes. Mah favorite snake experience was watchin two o’ our cow dogs playin’ volleyball with one thet was ’bout four foot long. Somehow or anuther they kept that critter in the air, and hit was still alive most o’ the time, fer nearly 15 minutes without either one o’em gittin bit. When thet got to be tiresome, they commenced to slingin the remains down the road ’til hit went to pieces. Now that ought to tell you sumptin ’bout what rattlers is good fer. On the other hand effen the burro chaser focused his center, so to speak, on that snake, mebbe that’s whar he got the extra oomph ta win two outta three. Ya got to look hard to see the beauty sometimes.
Yere’s til the Company picnic Clay Warren Pseudonymous in Poncha
P.S. to President Slick: Ah believed ya ’bout not inhaling too.