The Pony Express: Tuesday, October 4, 2005
reckoned by Stinkhorn Rodeo Riders at 12:49 AM
Every Tuesday, the Rodeo Riders over here at the Stinkhorn Ranch gather together their emails and share them with our readers.
I'm gonna take your questions in reverse, if you don't care. I'm in a backwards kinda mind this fine day--I'm even teachin' the chickens to walk backwards. It's hard work changin' a chicken's way o' thinkin'. They is simple creatures, to be sure, but they is stubborn.
We here at the Rodeo sat down t'other day and made a list of folks we thought would enjoy readin' Stinkhorn Rodeo. We were gonna just send out an email, invitin' readers to come on over and sit a spell. Then it was that Johnny Rawhide discovered that if one puts a body's email address into the Bloglet link at the bottom of our fine page, well... they's signed up. After much cussin' and discussin', we agreed to take the sneaky way 'round and go the Bloglet route stead of the email road.
Now, of course, you is always free to go over to Bloglet and cancel your subscription to Stinkhorn Rodeo. Although it would make me a tech saddened, I would understand. It sure was a sneaky way of goin' 'bout things, and I sincerely give my regrets if it caused you any distress.
Now, as to identifyin' myself. There's a fine little page of my particulars right there in Blogger. Should tell tell ya all the necessaries 'bout me. I can't rightly fathom you forgettin' me, Senor Brown. I know I ain't seen much o' ya in the last few years, me out West with the Rodeo and such, but I don't reckon I've ever come 'cross a man that forgot ol' Concha Loca and lived to talk about it. The time may well come when you are invited to join the Rodeo, and I'd hate to think that you was only pretendin' to remember me.
Well, I gotta get back to tendin' to my chickens. People from far and wide is haulin' their chickens to the Ranch for to benefit from my particular skill. It's a lotta work, but a labor of love.
Don't be a stranger Senor B!
Yours,
Concha Loca
Everyone here at the Ranch is likely to have a different answer to your question, but you've asked me so here goes.
One way to explain is to tell you that there's an honest-to-Pete mushroom what stinks somethin' fierce and is hollow on the inside. Grows almost anywhere, but you'll often sight one o' these slimy stobs near the manure pile.
So to me, a Stinkhorn may be just that: a hollowed out, slimy, steeped-in-shit stinker.
When I first came to the Ranch, I heard half a dozen tall tales about who created the Ranch and why, but it ain't like we got a history book for sale in the Guest House. I started out as a hand here at the Stinkhorn some years back, and my Grandpaw told me that his Grandpaw knew a cowboy name of Colt Johnson who was a sharpshooter at the Ranch just 'afore the turn of the century, and Colt used to say a lot of cowboys thought the Ranch was a legend back then. Near as I can cipher it, the Ranch has been here since the 1820s and some of the tongue and groove floors in the main house are the finest hand-worked wood I've ever seen.
'Course our logo here on this World Wide Web location has been around here on the Ranch fer a mighty long time too and it suggests a meanin' that keeps us all chucklin' throughout the days and nights.
The Rodeo travels all over this ol' U.S. of A., and the best way to find out about us is just to mosey on by. We all is hard-wokers, friendly and mirthful, and welcome any stranger who ain't lookin' fer trouble.
Signed,
Johnny Rawhide
Why, you sure are a busy little cowgirl, ain't ya? I can hardly keep track o' one man, let alone two.
My current beau (Mason Dixson Lions) spends a lot of time out on the range movin' the Stinkhorn Buffalo around the territory. Much of my time goes into the Stinkhorn and all the work it takes to run the place and take care of all the ranch hands, and my chickens are a constant chore, and I recently decided to take up specialized horticulture and am trying to grow me some of them tiny baby corns ya see in Chinese food. So I don't 'specially have the time or the want to devote all my worry to a cowboy.
But let me tell ya, whenever ol' Mason comes ridin' up to the Ranch, covered in traildust, smellin' of sweat and burnt sagebrush, wearin' them ol' chaps, swingin' his ten-gallon with all that long, black, curly hair a swirlin' around his head... well, I get a little weak in the knees. Mason's about all the man Concha can handle.
So first off, I'd say you need to get yerself a hobby: take up blacksmith work or take a trick pony class or somethin' equally as challengin'. With all your hours takin' up by your new hobby, you won't have as much time for the boys. Then you can make yerself a decision between one cowpoke or t'other.
As far as the $12,500 goes, ain't no man's business if you have yer own money. But only a dimwitted polecat would be a doin' her banking with her husband's nosy sister a peekin' at the numbers. Withdrawal the denaro and open up an account at some other banking establishment.
Hope that helps!
Hats off to you,
Concha Loca
Dear Mr. Cowboy,
There's always work to be done here at the Stinkhorn: stables need cleaning, fields need plowin', chow needs a cookin', animals need a feedin', fences need mendin'. There's always a need for someone to build a campfire at night 'neath the stars and a 'tother to stamp out the embers 'neath the morning sun. We used to have a feller named Fancy Darryl that tried to do the job of keeping Concha Loca in line, but he's sinced moved on to a less stressful career workin' for the bomb squad in the LAPD.
A lot o' jobs here at the Ranch, yeseree. Seems everyone has a specialty and everyone pitches in where he or she can. Everyone makes a dollar in their own particular and peculiar way and adds to the pot at supper. We take the Rodeo out now and again to raise funds to keep the revenuers away, and of course, there's always Concha's chickens. But there ain't nobody here handin' out paychecks to nobody. You earn yer keep 'round here at the Stinkhorn by pullin' yer own weight and helpin' out yer fellow ranch hand.
If you have an interest in bein' of service to the Stinkhorn Rodeo, please drop us an email, and we sure will consider takin' y'all on. It's BYOC (bring yer own chaps) 'round here.
Take care,
The Stinkhorn Rodeo Riders
--------------------
Email Us:
The Stinkhorn Rodeo Riders enjoy readin'
your emails while they is sittin' 'round the
kitchen table. We we will feature our favorites
every Tuesday in our Pony Express!
Concha,Well good day to you Senor B!
Can you identify yourself or at least tell me how I got an unsolicited subscription to your blog? It looks like a dandy and humorous blog, but I did not sign up for anything,
Randall
I'm gonna take your questions in reverse, if you don't care. I'm in a backwards kinda mind this fine day--I'm even teachin' the chickens to walk backwards. It's hard work changin' a chicken's way o' thinkin'. They is simple creatures, to be sure, but they is stubborn.
We here at the Rodeo sat down t'other day and made a list of folks we thought would enjoy readin' Stinkhorn Rodeo. We were gonna just send out an email, invitin' readers to come on over and sit a spell. Then it was that Johnny Rawhide discovered that if one puts a body's email address into the Bloglet link at the bottom of our fine page, well... they's signed up. After much cussin' and discussin', we agreed to take the sneaky way 'round and go the Bloglet route stead of the email road.
Now, of course, you is always free to go over to Bloglet and cancel your subscription to Stinkhorn Rodeo. Although it would make me a tech saddened, I would understand. It sure was a sneaky way of goin' 'bout things, and I sincerely give my regrets if it caused you any distress.
Now, as to identifyin' myself. There's a fine little page of my particulars right there in Blogger. Should tell tell ya all the necessaries 'bout me. I can't rightly fathom you forgettin' me, Senor Brown. I know I ain't seen much o' ya in the last few years, me out West with the Rodeo and such, but I don't reckon I've ever come 'cross a man that forgot ol' Concha Loca and lived to talk about it. The time may well come when you are invited to join the Rodeo, and I'd hate to think that you was only pretendin' to remember me.
Well, I gotta get back to tendin' to my chickens. People from far and wide is haulin' their chickens to the Ranch for to benefit from my particular skill. It's a lotta work, but a labor of love.
Don't be a stranger Senor B!
Yours,
Concha Loca
Dear Johnny Rawhide,Dear Curious -
I've been to more than one rodeo, but I have always wondered what a "stinkhorn" really is. Can you share any details?
Signed,
Curious In Manassas
Everyone here at the Ranch is likely to have a different answer to your question, but you've asked me so here goes.
One way to explain is to tell you that there's an honest-to-Pete mushroom what stinks somethin' fierce and is hollow on the inside. Grows almost anywhere, but you'll often sight one o' these slimy stobs near the manure pile.
So to me, a Stinkhorn may be just that: a hollowed out, slimy, steeped-in-shit stinker.
When I first came to the Ranch, I heard half a dozen tall tales about who created the Ranch and why, but it ain't like we got a history book for sale in the Guest House. I started out as a hand here at the Stinkhorn some years back, and my Grandpaw told me that his Grandpaw knew a cowboy name of Colt Johnson who was a sharpshooter at the Ranch just 'afore the turn of the century, and Colt used to say a lot of cowboys thought the Ranch was a legend back then. Near as I can cipher it, the Ranch has been here since the 1820s and some of the tongue and groove floors in the main house are the finest hand-worked wood I've ever seen.
'Course our logo here on this World Wide Web location has been around here on the Ranch fer a mighty long time too and it suggests a meanin' that keeps us all chucklin' throughout the days and nights.
The Rodeo travels all over this ol' U.S. of A., and the best way to find out about us is just to mosey on by. We all is hard-wokers, friendly and mirthful, and welcome any stranger who ain't lookin' fer trouble.
Signed,
Johnny Rawhide
Dear Concha Loca,Dear Angel,
No one has been able to help me with this problem and since you seem to be the kind of woman who can handle all kinds of issues at the Ranch, I thought I'd ask you.
My boyfriend for the last 11 years just found out I got married five years ago. My husband just discovered I have a checking account under another name that has $12,500 in it (I blame his sister at the bank for revealing that information).
What to do?
Sincerely,
Angel In Montgomery
Why, you sure are a busy little cowgirl, ain't ya? I can hardly keep track o' one man, let alone two.
My current beau (Mason Dixson Lions) spends a lot of time out on the range movin' the Stinkhorn Buffalo around the territory. Much of my time goes into the Stinkhorn and all the work it takes to run the place and take care of all the ranch hands, and my chickens are a constant chore, and I recently decided to take up specialized horticulture and am trying to grow me some of them tiny baby corns ya see in Chinese food. So I don't 'specially have the time or the want to devote all my worry to a cowboy.
But let me tell ya, whenever ol' Mason comes ridin' up to the Ranch, covered in traildust, smellin' of sweat and burnt sagebrush, wearin' them ol' chaps, swingin' his ten-gallon with all that long, black, curly hair a swirlin' around his head... well, I get a little weak in the knees. Mason's about all the man Concha can handle.
So first off, I'd say you need to get yerself a hobby: take up blacksmith work or take a trick pony class or somethin' equally as challengin'. With all your hours takin' up by your new hobby, you won't have as much time for the boys. Then you can make yerself a decision between one cowpoke or t'other.
As far as the $12,500 goes, ain't no man's business if you have yer own money. But only a dimwitted polecat would be a doin' her banking with her husband's nosy sister a peekin' at the numbers. Withdrawal the denaro and open up an account at some other banking establishment.
Hope that helps!
Hats off to you,
Concha Loca
Dear Stinkhorn Rodeo,
Are there any job openings at the Stinkhorn Ranch? I was wondering if the Ranch was hiring, and what do you pay?
Thanks!
Unemployed Urban Cowboy
Dear Mr. Cowboy,
There's always work to be done here at the Stinkhorn: stables need cleaning, fields need plowin', chow needs a cookin', animals need a feedin', fences need mendin'. There's always a need for someone to build a campfire at night 'neath the stars and a 'tother to stamp out the embers 'neath the morning sun. We used to have a feller named Fancy Darryl that tried to do the job of keeping Concha Loca in line, but he's sinced moved on to a less stressful career workin' for the bomb squad in the LAPD.
A lot o' jobs here at the Ranch, yeseree. Seems everyone has a specialty and everyone pitches in where he or she can. Everyone makes a dollar in their own particular and peculiar way and adds to the pot at supper. We take the Rodeo out now and again to raise funds to keep the revenuers away, and of course, there's always Concha's chickens. But there ain't nobody here handin' out paychecks to nobody. You earn yer keep 'round here at the Stinkhorn by pullin' yer own weight and helpin' out yer fellow ranch hand.
If you have an interest in bein' of service to the Stinkhorn Rodeo, please drop us an email, and we sure will consider takin' y'all on. It's BYOC (bring yer own chaps) 'round here.
Take care,
The Stinkhorn Rodeo Riders
--------------------
Email Us:
The Stinkhorn Rodeo Riders enjoy readin'
your emails while they is sittin' 'round the
kitchen table. We we will feature our favorites
every Tuesday in our Pony Express!
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