The Hazards of Tossing PigsWritten by Chris Bradford & Brande McCree
The Hazards of Tossing PigsSaturday, both Jane and Barb had to work. I didn?t see either of them during day but Saturday night I went to eat at restaurant they work in. They serve two kinda steaks there. One called Cowgirl, and one called Cowboy. On my first visit some months ago I had loudly pronounced "I wanna eat a Cowgirl!" When Jane asked how I wanted it, I loudly replied "Why, pink in middle of course!" Weeeeell...... this time Jane recommended Cowboy. I informed her that if she was to tell anyone that I ate a Cowboy on bone, she was dead meat. After eating, they invited me to go out after they got off work. So I told them I would show back up round 10 PM. I rode by at 9:30 and seeing parking lot was about empty, decided to stop on in. They wasn?t finished, so I stepped into bar. In bar they had LVTV (Las Vegas TV) film cameras set up, and Geritol Crowd was out there dancing to swing time music being played by some fellas who in their younger years dreamed of growing up and playing music in "Speakeasies" during Great Depression. Now, it was fun to watch, and I got a kick out of drummer who, when he went into his grand finale drum roll on last song, paused to put on his oxygen mask first. Things took a little longer than expected, but at about 11:30, they finally were ready to go out. Except, neither brought a change of clothes. We had to stop and buy them t-shirts to be presentable. After hitting a couple of places, they finally found some sweat shirts at Outback Roadhouse. That being done, we started having problems finding a bar. I was even having problems finding Barb! We would decide to go somewhere and she would take off in her car like a racetrack momma, leaving me and Jane driving around Branson trying to find her! Finally we caught up with her and decided to hit lounge at Ramada. That didn?t work out too well. The place was fairly empty. And, besides that, as we were walking in parking lot we passed this 1971 pickemup truck that was so valuable it had guard dogs in back. The thing is, we didn?t see dogs until we were beside truck. Then, it was too late! We all had dirty britches. Weeeeell.. we decided to go to my motel room and have our own little get together so Jane sends Barb after some wine and we head to my motel. Barb shows up at about same time we do. In addition to wine, she brought a bottle of Jim Beam and some game which you play by tossing pigs. I thanked her for Jim Beam, but cautioned her it was a bad idea because with mood I was in I shouldn?t be drinking heavy. She fixed me a drink, and we all sat down to toss a few pigs. Now, this game was pretty neat. You would toss these two pigs like dice.. and depending on how they landed you would score points. You had "Snouters", "Razor backs", "Makin Bacon", and a bunch of other ways they could land. I kept drinking. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeell.... last thing I remember was feeling a little sick from drinking so much, and next thing I knew it was Sunday morning. And, what a morning it was!
| | Just Say No to "No"Written by Tony Hendra
“Power Lunch”: Around table, two men and a woman check you out as you talk. You know your firm can double their sales; after weeks of presentations to their flunkies, you want to clinch deal. They, however, loathe prospect of having to make a decision far from safe buck-passing womb of boardroom and E?mail. The waiter arrives at your table, asking usual "Can I get you something from bar?" Yes, yell your guts, a round of Cosmopolitan Martinis would do us a world of good. Might warm up these flash-frozen bean-counters. But your brain knows better: The mere suspicion of a shadow of a possibility that you'd like a drink will be interpreted to mean your next stop is Betty Ford Center. And that your staff is a gang of FUBAR pinheads from chorus of The Student Prince who fart at word "deadline" and try to fax beer to clients. So you pass, opting for safe glass of bottled water guaranteed to keep your (and their) mind unmuddled and beans countable. Yes, your pitch is clear, precise, strategic, proactive -and as flat as Evian in your wineglass. You're condemned to more months of review, as teetotaling trio depart, muttering optimistic nothings. Thanks to businesslike lucidity, no business has been done; for lack of liquids, your liquidity is threatened. No one needs to point out to you that we're becalmed in an economic Sargasso Sea. You make a living if you’re lucky, but zing ain't there. Fifteen years ago, money bred like cockroaches in kitchen cabinet. Thirty-five years before that economy went on a fifteen-year jag of metastatic growth. What did Fifties, that economic Eden we're all trying to get back to - not to mention that carefully edited version of Fifties, Eighties - have that we don't have? A Republican president? Nope. Lower taxes? Uh-uh. It's much simpler than that: People drank at lunch.
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