Letter by Clay Warren
August 99 edition – September 1998 – Colorado Central Magazine
Finally, a reason to go on-line
Editors:
Man! Ah never thought I’d see such a good use for the Internet, and to think ah missed out on this’n cause ah’m not on line. Here was another o’ them opportunities far me to be the voice o’ reason, the man in the middle, etc., etc., and ah got to read ’bout hit after the fact. Ah mean Steve and Jim both got good valid points, and hit seems to me that they’re talking all round the same subject in his own way. Hit wudn’t so much a debate, as hit wuz a contradiction in terms. Ah mean that stuff thet all of us consider to be productive, is just dirt that would be referred to as the Great American Desert in Yankee circles.
Thet means that if the whole state o’ Colorado, minus all them Wilderness Areas that belong to everybody, wuz to be carved up into 35 acre ranchettes, why nobody east o’ Sheridan Avenue would care, lessen it interfered with their own personal recreational opportunities somehow. Ah mean this is after all the same West thet them folks at Sunset Magazine write about (they probably is the same ones who programmed that globe that run backward for thet network news program), and where the Intermodal Surface Transportation Efficiency Act (don’t thet jist roll off yere tongue too?) passes out grants for sculpture. Ah would like to know how we convoluted thet law so as to make sumptin like a piece o’ sculpture that generally impedes traffic, into an efficiency. Maybe hit is an example o’ whar it takes too damned much work to repair a highway, so lets jist give the dough to a sculptor instead.
Sheriff Jobe better watch out. Now that Roy the original King o’singers Rogers has passed over the divide, Hollywood may be on the lookout fer anuther singin’ cowboy who can shoot, ride a horse, and yodel all at the same time. In addition to help’n raise more than a dozen foster kids, Rogers once told Johnny Carson that when he died he was goin’ ta have himself stuffed and mounted right up thar on top o’Trigger in that glass case at the Apple Valley Inn. So Sheriff Jobe could have some big boots to fill in the humor department too.
My favorite bit o’ info in the August edition was about the Runnin’ o’ the Bulls in Mesquite, Nevada. Why Hal Walter or Curtis Emory didn’t think o’ this furst is beyond me, but hit seems like a perfectly obvious solution to the situation. If the humane society wont let’m use real bulls, make the runners tie a carrot or a head o’ cabbage to their backs and use burros instead. Ah mean if the RSP(CA) is so worried about harm comin to the bulls (surely they ain’t worried ’bout the people) then the worst thet can happen is a few hoof prints on some fool’s back, or maybe a missin’ latisimus dorsi if the burro’s bite ain’t too accurate. Hit’ll give a whole nuther meanin’ to the term burro chasin’.
Them Oregonians complainin’ bout the excess of Pacific chorus frogs can’t fill in no ponds cause that would violate the Wetlands Act, plus hit would reduce the amount o’availible bait. Lastly, there is a couple o’ technical corrections (no I ain’t talkin’ bout Ray James) I’d like to make. Barry done crossed the Great Divide, so he can’t run again in 2000, although they say Mrs. Ronny is thinkin’ bout given Ronny another go round, if only that fetal tissue research he was so against, works out.
The other thing is that fancy fence o’ Hal Walters. Hit’s a great idea, but no self respecting horse or dairy cow for that matter, is going to let himself be fooled by that top strand o’ barbless wire and there goes the ole fence along with the critter. And no, that doe ah pulled out o’ the wire awhile back did not kick me in the head.
Yeres till Anza Day Clay Warren Pseudonymous in Poncha