AS A YOUNG MAN, I PLAYED A LOT OF BASKETBALL. I was pretty darn good. But I wasn’t real good. Or very good. I could hold my own on any level, but, if I were guarding a major college star or pro, well. Let’s just say I’d have as much chance as a perky St. Bernard puppy from stopping him from scoring 30 and I’d be lucky to get six.
I worked out sometimes eight hours a day. Granted. I was in race horse shape. But, for all my hard work, I only got to be — not great, better than most, pretty darn good. I marveled at those jocks who could show up to a game stumbling drunk, stoned and smoking a cigarette. In such wretched states, they’d still end up dominating the game. They weren’t necessarily stronger, quicker or faster than me. They weren’t smarter. Certainly they weren’t as good looking. But, they had — something.
IS IT JUST ME? OR IS THE COUNTRY WOUND A LITTLE TOO TIGHT? You’d think Burger King should be a calm harbor in an insane world. A sanctuary to ponder the meaning of life or what country in which you should take up fresh citizenship should Hillary Clinton become evil Disney queen and cast a spell of darkness for 1,000 years. Burger King is where you go to safely swallow tens of thousands of calories in a sitting, pushing down feelings of inadequacy and woe.
Burger King shouldn’t be an Unsafe Zone, where management throws hot sauce at you.
Witness the tale trickling out of Conway, New Hampshire, where the burgertorium’s manager confessed to tossing MSG-rich and taste-killing sauce at a customer.
I’ve read several versions of the encounter. I’ve yet to clear up exactly what “sauce” entails. Breitbart, the conservative news agency and tireless proponent of small business, took management’s side and hinted that it the sauce in question was one of those little .0000003-ounce packets that squeezes out a miserly single molecule of moisture and red dye. MSNBC, which despises business of any kind, feels manager Doug Waterman heft a 55-gallon bubbling hot cauldron of radioactive BBQ drippings and bounced it off the patron’s noggin.
Actually, it was a bottle. Six-ounce? Twenty-four-ounce? The size that Hercules could comfortably throw to kill a lion?
JOHN WAYNE (above) PLAYED THE TITLE ROLE OF ROOSTER COGBURN in the Western of the same name, creating an iconic cowboy hero who had more than his fare share of flaws. His friend, Lee Marvin, did the same in Cat Ballou, earning an Oscar for playing not one, but two lightning fast twin gunslingers. One brother was the drunk Tim Strawn on the drunken horse. Drunk riding is different than drunk driving in that you have to be operating a horse instead of a car, although, I’m sure the type of mammal isn’t really important. You could be atop a Brahma bull, elephant or a mighty big dog while intoxicated although if it were me, my defense would be: “Who put this damn humongously large dog betwixt my legs?”
Once upon a time, there was this fellow up in Carson City, Nev., who was arrested for drunken riding. The perp in this equine misdemeanor had the perfect name to go with his crime: Manuel Carreon.
INVARIABLY, YOU GET A GROUP OF WOMEN together and they will talk about sex, relationships, sex, other women, sex, shopping, Brad Pitt with other women and, sex.
Guys are simpler.
Together in groups, they will speak about sports and the price of gasoline, agricultural futures even though they have nothing to do with agriculture except for maybe piling blueberries on their instant oatmeal in the morning.
And, they will speak in reverent whispers of great bar fights. Sorry ladies. It’s something in our genes.
We used to have the second best cowboy bar on the planet in my hometown of
BEGRUDGINGLY, I HAVE TO HAND IT TO MY PROGRESSIVE FRIENDS on the left. I’ve oft poked fun at the demographic whose lower lip precedes them by a quarter of an hour and who frequently display the mental health of Dracula’s minion, the bug-eating Renfield (pictured above).
I must offer a sincere apology to liberals and to the University of New Mexico. In an effort to stamp out anything resembling annoying cajones, the Lobos are requiring yet more sensitivity training for staff and faculty. If you work for UNM, you are required to complete a course entitled: “Intersections: Preventing Discrimination and Harassment.” The indoctrination is designed to prevent sexual misconduct and gender discrimination. Beyond that, it demands that employees not point out, through kidding or honest diagnosis, that someone, thing or idea might be “crazy.”
Well. There goes the entire base of the Democratic Party.