Tuesday, September 09, 2003
eVERYTHINGS bIGGER IN tEXAS!
What I did on George W. Bush's summer vacation 89 years ago.
Via The American Memory Loss Project: Sept. 05, 2092.
"The Big Bunkhouse Bat Attack and Bean Fire" - by Calvin S. Countryman.
PART 1: The Big Swagger and a Big Bug up the Pant Leg.
I recount this story to the best of my memory. It was a long time back and I was young then but I can remember pretty much every one of the details of that night like it was last week. See, I was pretty much just a green-horn GOP cow puncher in them days and had just come back from a voter drive in Austin. Country was leavin' footprints all over New Mesopotamia at the time, and a hell of a mess-o-pot-o-mania that was. Big shoot-em-up in what they called I-Racky back in them days, and so I took up workin' with the Silver Spoon Circle-W Ranch boys in Crawford. The Circle-W SS they called it at the time. It was part of that President George W. Bush family spread there in Crawford back then and I'd done some private military security wranglin' and campaign staff ropin' mostly so they asked me to hire on. Keep an eye on things, that sort of work. Mostly pretty simple chores....check some fences here and there, beverage runs for the twins, help drive a few hundred golf balls out Midland way, but mostly keepin' an eye on some of the older fellas from getting lost in a gullywash or tangled up in the big old tire swing down by the crick. Had to wrassle one old timer Evangelist out of some motel room out near Hillsboro when he run off to shack up for the weekend with a couple of the local real estate gals. Little stuff like that. But I never have forgot the night of the The Big Bunkhouse Bat Attack and Bean-fire Conflagration for as long as I've lived, thats for sure.
I was keepin a look-out over at the golf-cart stable that night and things was pretty quiet. The boss and the big boys were mostly gone off to the bunkhouse for the night because they'd had a big day inseminatin' media cows, corrallin' campaign donors and stage-coachin' photo-ops in front of a bulldozer earlier that mornin' and were pretty much in need of some shut-eye. By the boss and the big boys I mean G.W. hisself and Uncle Dick and that Karl Rove fella and all those other boys who used to hang around the Silver Spoon in those days, and up there in DC too.
How all the trouble started was something like this. The boss and the boys had turned in early for the night and were countin' "snowflakes" when G.W. woke from his deep snooze and noticed that some critter was hunched over that Karl Rove fella. At first G.W. thought it was that little dog he always carted around with him. Barney, that was the little dogs name as I recall... anyways, G.W. thinks Barney is over there lickin' and chewin' on Mr. Karl's ear or sumpin', but then he wised up a tad and wondered how Barney got up top the bunk and he got real scared because he looked at Uncle Karl more closely there in the top bunk right next to him and seen that Uncle Karl was just-a-layin' there all pale and ghostlike with big ugly reddish purple lips and layin' there all kinda just bloodless-like. Layin' there glowing like some kind of translucent steamed fish. The boss started in to hootin' like a crazy barn owl because a big fuzzy swaggering Hubris Bat was sucking on Uncle Karl's jugular like a fancy-lady on a fatcat Pioneer campaign donor. And it was a BIG bat too! Biggest bat I ever seen this side of McCarthy! One a them giant Hubris Bats that always followed the Circle SS boys around when they was workin'. When the big chill of summer 2003 set the country to a shiverin' that swaggerin' Hubris Bat headed straight for the Mockingbird state right ahead of the boys who got outta Washington DC fast as a card cheatin' backdoor Bible salesman, just like they all was told Jesus was a seen skippin' across Lake Waco with a inside line on a horse race. Anyways, I heard the ruckus and came a running and what I saw when I got there was like this: G.W., he was a yellin' and hollerin' about evil-doers and French devils and godless gov'mint entitlement thievin' savages and lookin' pretty confounded and his eyes looked like two little jaundiced pea-stones stuck out on their stems and he was a holdin' his hands over his ears while jumpin' up and down next to his bunk like a man with a bug up his pant-leg! Yup. Jumpin' up and down next to his bunk! Thats how I will always remember that GW feller. A man hootin' and a yellin' and jumpin' up and down next to his own rickety bunk like a preacher with a bug up his god-dern pant leg.
[end of part 1- to be continued.]
Via The American Memory Loss Project: Sept. 05, 2092.
"The Big Bunkhouse Bat Attack and Bean Fire" - by Calvin S. Countryman.
PART 1: The Big Swagger and a Big Bug up the Pant Leg.
I recount this story to the best of my memory. It was a long time back and I was young then but I can remember pretty much every one of the details of that night like it was last week. See, I was pretty much just a green-horn GOP cow puncher in them days and had just come back from a voter drive in Austin. Country was leavin' footprints all over New Mesopotamia at the time, and a hell of a mess-o-pot-o-mania that was. Big shoot-em-up in what they called I-Racky back in them days, and so I took up workin' with the Silver Spoon Circle-W Ranch boys in Crawford. The Circle-W SS they called it at the time. It was part of that President George W. Bush family spread there in Crawford back then and I'd done some private military security wranglin' and campaign staff ropin' mostly so they asked me to hire on. Keep an eye on things, that sort of work. Mostly pretty simple chores....check some fences here and there, beverage runs for the twins, help drive a few hundred golf balls out Midland way, but mostly keepin' an eye on some of the older fellas from getting lost in a gullywash or tangled up in the big old tire swing down by the crick. Had to wrassle one old timer Evangelist out of some motel room out near Hillsboro when he run off to shack up for the weekend with a couple of the local real estate gals. Little stuff like that. But I never have forgot the night of the The Big Bunkhouse Bat Attack and Bean-fire Conflagration for as long as I've lived, thats for sure.
I was keepin a look-out over at the golf-cart stable that night and things was pretty quiet. The boss and the big boys were mostly gone off to the bunkhouse for the night because they'd had a big day inseminatin' media cows, corrallin' campaign donors and stage-coachin' photo-ops in front of a bulldozer earlier that mornin' and were pretty much in need of some shut-eye. By the boss and the big boys I mean G.W. hisself and Uncle Dick and that Karl Rove fella and all those other boys who used to hang around the Silver Spoon in those days, and up there in DC too.
How all the trouble started was something like this. The boss and the boys had turned in early for the night and were countin' "snowflakes" when G.W. woke from his deep snooze and noticed that some critter was hunched over that Karl Rove fella. At first G.W. thought it was that little dog he always carted around with him. Barney, that was the little dogs name as I recall... anyways, G.W. thinks Barney is over there lickin' and chewin' on Mr. Karl's ear or sumpin', but then he wised up a tad and wondered how Barney got up top the bunk and he got real scared because he looked at Uncle Karl more closely there in the top bunk right next to him and seen that Uncle Karl was just-a-layin' there all pale and ghostlike with big ugly reddish purple lips and layin' there all kinda just bloodless-like. Layin' there glowing like some kind of translucent steamed fish. The boss started in to hootin' like a crazy barn owl because a big fuzzy swaggering Hubris Bat was sucking on Uncle Karl's jugular like a fancy-lady on a fatcat Pioneer campaign donor. And it was a BIG bat too! Biggest bat I ever seen this side of McCarthy! One a them giant Hubris Bats that always followed the Circle SS boys around when they was workin'. When the big chill of summer 2003 set the country to a shiverin' that swaggerin' Hubris Bat headed straight for the Mockingbird state right ahead of the boys who got outta Washington DC fast as a card cheatin' backdoor Bible salesman, just like they all was told Jesus was a seen skippin' across Lake Waco with a inside line on a horse race. Anyways, I heard the ruckus and came a running and what I saw when I got there was like this: G.W., he was a yellin' and hollerin' about evil-doers and French devils and godless gov'mint entitlement thievin' savages and lookin' pretty confounded and his eyes looked like two little jaundiced pea-stones stuck out on their stems and he was a holdin' his hands over his ears while jumpin' up and down next to his bunk like a man with a bug up his pant-leg! Yup. Jumpin' up and down next to his bunk! Thats how I will always remember that GW feller. A man hootin' and a yellin' and jumpin' up and down next to his own rickety bunk like a preacher with a bug up his god-dern pant leg.
[end of part 1- to be continued.]
