Thursday, February 26, 2026
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Snob Or Slob

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Welcome to this edition of the latest craze in entertainment… the home game that is sweeping the nation called  Snob or Slob? In this game we’ll describe three families and then ask you to guess which one is the richest. Now let’s meet our contestants.
First we have Cosmo the Artiste and Princess Charmaya who have been living together in sin for five years now in Silicon Valley. Cosmo the Artiste is a 27 year old, self-taught hacker who works from home which is a 900 square foot loft in what used to be a tannery. The loft rents for $4,500 a month which does not include HOA fees, spa or pool privileges. His income is highly volatile and depends on how many stupid people have passwords that are easily hacked.
Charmaya is a computer programmer for an Internet dating site for canines called “Labs In Love” in which she has thousands of stock options that could be worth millions when, and if, the company ever goes public. The couple has no savings but has invested heavily in two cryptocurrencies you’ve never heard of that they’re counting on to make them billionaires. In place of a 401K Cosmo the Artiste gambles on jai alai through an offshore Internet gambling site. They have few possessions except for their collection of Air Jordans. The couple spends gobs of money on lottery tickets, ramen noodles, five dollar cups of coffee from Starbucks, and the latest Apple Watch or cell phone.
Our next contestants are deeply embedded members of the leisure class who inherited their wealth from Wall Street criminals. Cameron McBooze IV still works for the family futures gambling house and brings home a million bucks a year despite doing nothing that resembles work. The firm trades in commodities that don’t exist. Cameron wouldn’t know wheat from corn and enjoys two hundred dollar, three martini lunches daily. His suits are made in Italy. and he owns a Ferrari, though he’s seldom sober enough to drive.
Cameron’s trophy wife Audrey Jacqueline Margaux is 20 years younger and is under the constant care of a beautician, a trainer and a plastic surgeon. She spends most days shopping for clothes at Bloomingdales she’ll only wear once, if at all. The couple has three houses, all in upscale neighborhoods to isolate themselves from the unwashed masses. Last year they bought two matching Mercedes Benz and took two extended trips to Europe. To them, possessions and consumption equals achievement.
Finally, from Lickspittle, Wyoming, are the Johnsons, Frank and Mary and their four kids. This family has been playing hide and seek with poverty for years and their income is measured in the bean to beef ratio at supper. Frank wears old and faded flannel shirts, a beaver hat with a dark and very visible sweatband and boots held together with duct tape, while Mary dresses similarly, minus the duct tape. In their very best clothes they’d be kicked out of any upscale eatery in New York. The Johnson’s ate out a grand total of three times last year and one of those was at McDonalds where Mary put the sugar and salt packs and extra napkins in her purse. They charge their groceries at the store which is 20 miles away and have a dog named Insufficient Funds. They drive a twelve year old truck and the only stock they own has four legs.
Now I’ll open the envelope to see who is the most wealthy. I must say, I’m shocked to report that the couple with the highest net worth is… Frank and Mary, the ranchers from Lickspittle. How can this be, you ask? It seems the Johnsons may be poor but they are wealthy. They own a twenty million dollar ranch that was paid for three generations ago, over a million dollars in livestock including a horse worth more than Charmaya’s stock options, and two combines each worth more than Cameron’s Ferrari. Their net worth also includes 12 oil wells, a wind farm, a potential and valuable conservatism easement and an unknown amount of carbon credits. If Frank and Mary cashed out and bought a New York pied-a-terre or a mansion in Silicone Valley the McBoozes, Charmaya and Cosmo the Artiste would have to use the back door.

Pie And Trigger Were Famous Western Movie Stars

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Frank J Buchman
Frank Buchman

Two veteran movie horses with long careers increased the popularity of silver screen cowboys, according to writer Steve Hulett.
Jimmy Stewart explained his love for his four-legged co-star named Pie.
“I rode Pie for 22 years,” Stewart said. “I never was able to buy him because he was owned by a little girl by the name of Stevie Myers, who is the daughter of an old wrangler who worked for Tom Mix and W.S. Hart.”
“When Hart retired, he gave this horse to Stevie. Pie was a sort of a maverick and hurt a couple of people,” Stewart said. “Pie nearly killed Glenn Ford, ran right into a tree.”
“But I liked this darned little horse. He was a bit small Quarter Horse and Arabian. I got to know him like a friend,” Stewart continued. “Pie understood about making pictures. I ran at a full gallop, straight towards the camera, pulled him up, did a lot of dialogue, and Pie stood still.
“Pie never moved. He knew when the camera would start rolling and his ears came up,” Stewart said.
Petrine Mitchum Day, Robert Mitchum’s daughter, horse enthusiast and author of “Hollywood Hoofbeats,” said Jimmy Stewart rode Pie in 17 Westerns.
“They just became so attuned to each other that in one film, ‘The Far Country,’ Stewart was able to get the horse to perform at liberty when the trainer was not around.
“Jimmy Stewart just went up to Pie, whispered in his ear, told him what he needed done, and the horse did it. Everyone on the set was absolutely amazed.”
Beyond the work Pie did with Stewart, on film, he was also ridden by Kirk Douglas, Audie Murphy, and more than likely a number of other actors. There is no exact count of the number of films in which the horse appeared.
Hudkins Stables in Hollywood supplied horses to Golden Age film studios. In 1937, they purchased a five-year-old Palomino born on a ranch near San Diego named Golden Cloud.
Hudkins rented the horse to Republic Pictures for a low-budget movie “Under Western Stars.” The lead star in the film was the up-and-coming singing cowboy Roy Rogers, (originally Leonard Slye) and he bonded with Golden Cloud.
Like Jimmy Stewart with Pie, Rogers wanted to buy the horse, and Hudkins Stables was happy to comply.
But the stables drove a hard bargain. They charged the actor a then-steep $2,500 which would be $53,818.84 today for ownership of the Palomino that Roy Rogers renamed Trigger.
All told, Trigger had an entertainment career that spanned 20-plus years, encompassing 88 feature films and 104 TV episodes. There were also numerous personal appearances.
When the horse died in 1965, his earthly remains were mounted and put on display at the Roy Rogers Museum in Apple Valley, California, remaining there 45 years.
After the death of Roy Rogers, the museum was moved to Branson, Missouri. The museum closed in 2010, and Trigger sold for $266,500 to RFD-TV. He is now displayed at the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame in the Fort Worth Stockyards National Historic District.
+++30+++

 

Purpose For Detour Signs

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“Detours are a common aggravation for highway drivers, seemingly more commonplace today than ever.”

As much as drivers dread seeing a detour sign and attempting to follow confusing directions, no detour sign is worse.

That became apparent when major highways were barricaded off to and from the ranch headquarters.

Signs indicated “No Through Traffic,” but there were no detour signs. Drivers were given no directions on how to get from the main highway to other locations.

Hundreds of vehicles including semi tractors pulling heavily loaded livestock and grain trailers drove right around the barricades.

They were sorry for doing so when realizing through traffic on paved highways was impossible.

Cars and pickups were able to make U-turns and head back to figure out some way to find their destination.

For the 18-wheelers, getting turned around became a major ordeal. Several truckers jackknifed their big rigs and spent considerable time and effort getting turned around.

There was damage to certain trucks which remained stranded for extended time with their hoods up.

When headed back in the direction they came, drivers still didn’t know how to get where they wanted to go. While there were gravel rural roads, no signs pointed out which ones to take to get to any certain locale.

In urban areas, there are always detour signs which are often perplexing, but better than no driver guidance whatsoever.

“Why aren’t there detour signs posted several times along the highway before the no through traffic barricades which people ignore?” That question was asked dozens if not hundreds of times before any answer was provided.

“There can be no detours onto country graveled roads, only on paved highways.” That sounded like a probable Department of Transportation ruling. But it was no help to drivers who couldn’t figure out how to get where they wanted to go.

There are still no advance signs advising drivers that the main paved highways ahead are completely impassible. However, enough lost vehicles must have spread warning to others as there haven’t been as many forced driver turnarounds.

How they figure out which graveled road to take for their destination is complex, seemingly.

While road construction continues, promises are it’ll be “better than before” when completed.

Reminded of Proverbs 4:15: “Avoid it, do not travel on it; Turn away from it and go back.”

+++ALLELUIA+++

XVII–36–9-3-2023

Grandfather’s Collection (Best Of)

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lee pitts
  Sunday’s have always been special to me. When I was a kid they were for shooting pool at my Grandfather’s house while Grandma sang at two different churches.
We shot pool and the breeze, surrounded by Grandfather’s collection of western memorabilia. There were rusty branding irons in the corner, dusty old hats hanging from the ceiling (even one signed by Roy Rogers himself), and everything western on the wall. This was the shrine where I paid homage when I was growing up. I went on many imaginary round-ups sitting on a saddle in that room.
I suppose Grandma made Grandpa hide his collection in the musty downstairs room where guests would not see the dust and the rust. I took a friend to see the collection once and he thought it was a bunch of junk. But I didn’t care, because  on Sunday mornings Grandpa and I would enter that room and live in another day and another time, if just for awhile.
Grandpa never threw anything away if it was old. Maybe that is how it should be. As Grandpa’s collection grew it got tougher to shoot pool. You would pull your cue stick back and hit something on the wall.
“What the heck is that?”  I’d say.
“Oh, those are some new old spurs I got. Aren’t they beauties? They called them “Mexican Gut Robbers.” I could believe it. They had rowels on them three inches long. But if the horses had to be tough back in the good old days so did the cowboys. Grandpa’s got a pair of brass knuckles and a pearl handled derringer on the wall … and they belonged to a banker! I will admit that one man’s junk is another man’s gold, but even Grandma would have to concede that part of the collection is valuable. There are two handmade violins that took a lot of time and talent to make. But I guess the craftsman had a lot of time. He was in prison for murder. But even the cowboy’s tools, like the braided horse hair rope, stand as testimony to a time when things were done right no matter how long it took.
One of the more interesting pieces in the collection is a  long tube of thin metal with a large cupped opening at one end and a small opening at the other. “It’s a  hearing aid,” joked Grandpa. “Actually they were called ear trumpets. You put the big end up to the deaf person’s ear and you yelled like hell into the other end.”
There was always great excitement whenever Grandpa got something new for his collection. “Look at this,” he said one Sunday. It looked to me like an old piece of wood with a bunch of square nails in it. “It’s a piece of wood from a county courthouse that the government actually built in the wrong county.”
In the story of human progress some things never change.
The pool room turned into a family museum, a symbol of our heritage. There is the number that Grandpa wore on his back when he won the team roping at the county fair. There are my brother’s first cowboy boots that eventually got handed down to me. The room was full of hand me downs, from one generation to another.
I think my Grandpa always wanted me to be a lawyer or something upper crust but it was his fault I always dreamed about being a cowboy. We don’t shoot pool anymore because Grandpa is gone. I miss him terribly as he was the father-figure in my life. I like to think that Grandpa knows I did grow up to be something important… I became a cowboy. I’d like him to know that the dream never died.
Grandpa left everything in that room to me and I’ve added to the collection, so much so that’s it’s taken over every room in our house. And
 when guests are invited to shoot a game or two of pool on that same pool table invariably someone will pull back their cue stick and hit something new. At least it’s new to my collection. In reality it’s probably 150 years old.
You might be surprised to learn I have another collection that’s way more valuable than all my old cowboy stuff, at least to me it is. It’s my collection of memories. Memories of those long-gone Sundays when I fell in love with the romance of the cow business.
Thanks Grandpa! This country already had enough lawyers… and not nearly enough cowboys.