First up a word of caution for my friends and relatives in Texas. Just because our governor ended the mandatory mask requirement in public – despite the advice of medical experts – this is not the time to relax our safety precautions, especially for the next couple of months. Texas is still the lowest on the tier of states in the number of people getting vaccinated, and we are number 10 in new cases of COVID being reported. (More information on this HERE) If this were a perfect world where people did what was right and safe, we wouldn’t need things like speed limits, laws governing seat belts, or “rules” about anything else.
In today’s offering from Slim Randles, Windy Wilson, one of the guys at the Mule Barn Truck Stop has something to say about the nasty little Coronavirus. Keep in mind that while Windy has a more humorous approach to what he has to say, he also loves to fracture the English language. So please help me welcome Slim and Windy and the rest of the gang. Enjoy…
Doc had just finished bringing us up to date on the world’s fight against the covid-19 virus when ol’ Windy Wilson raised his eyes.
“Now don’t ya find, Doc,” he said, “that the worse stuff in this old life is the junk ya can’t see?”
Doc looked puzzled, so Windy continued. “Aw, you know. It’s them mitrascopic stuff that are really dangerous to us.”
“Now you jest take in there a braymer bull? He can stomp a guy inta furry, pink Jell-o. And then dance on them bullfighters whilst they’re a-tryin’ to git yer carcass outa the reenur. But see this here now. That there bull is purty dang big. Big enough to ride, right? So that means he’s big enough so’s you kin get outa his way if he comes a-stompin.”
Windy, our favorite camp cook, cowboy, philosopher, and interpreter of the English language, sipped on his coffee and looked at us each in turn. “Now, can you see them coronary vibration bugs? No way! Too dang small. They’ll sneak up on a guy, get married and have pups and then kill ya deader’n a hammer!
“Thass why, at the conjugal finish a-my thinkin’, I’m puttin’ them bugs in secondary place on my list of all-time tiny mean stuff.”
“Only second place?” said Herb, “What’s worse’n dying, Windy?”
“Cactus hairs,” he said. “A-course. Ya know, them miterscopic stickers that you can’t see when your eyes is nekkid. But ya know they’s there, doncha? Oh yes, Aunt Sarah, I’ll say ya do!”
Windy nodded, agreeing with himself. No one else did, but that isn’t really necessary with Windy.
“Only way ya kin tell ya got ‘em is when ya brush up agin’ somethin’, like a shirt cuff or somethin’. Hurts like the Civilian War, it does, but ya can’t see it.”
He leaned forward and whispered. “It’s flambastically insidulouss!
“And you kin tell ‘em I said so.”
Brought to you by the folks who take the shiver out of ordering a quiver for you archers, Cedar Ridge Leather Works, in Nashville. Ask for firstname.lastname@example.org.
Check out all of Slim’s award-winning books at his Goodreads Page and in better bookstores and bunkhouses throughout the free world.
All of the posts here are from his syndicated column, Home Country that is read in hundreds of newspapers across the country. I am always happy to have him share his wit and wisdom here.
Slim Randles is a veteran newspaperman, hunting guide, cowboy and dog musher. He was a feature writer and columnist for The Anchorage Daily News for 10 years and guided hunters in the Alaska Range and the Talkeetna Mountains. A resident of New Mexico now for more than 30 years, Randles is the prize-winning author of a dozen books, and is host of two podcasts and a television program.