montague county moments

 Thirty days hath September , not much beyond that I remember…except the Spectacular State Fair of Texas begins this week-end.. Big tex and deep-fried Twinkies..freak-shows on the Midway and college football…pick-pockets and show-goats ..cotton candy and roasted peanuts …roller coaster rides and price gouging …then there’s my favorite spectator sport of all, people watching .. 

  What a beautiful week-end forecast for the wonderfully unique State Fair of Texas at Fair Park in Dallas ….an experience more so than an event !

  Montague grade-school took a bus load to the Fair in 1959 , Chipper and Scooter tried to steal my girlfriend , but she refused to ride the wooden frame roller coaster with any one of us…guess that made her a Valedictorian prospect .

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 I spoke briefly with the pigeon-shooters this morning .. They were endulging in poached eggs and Melba toast at some water-front garden in Galveston..

 Baccus and Gilbert arrived safely with the weaponry of fowl destruction …

  Ed was telling me about his well-endowed mooslum waitress when the fellow at the adjoining table dropped to his knees facing the east and started chanting in Arabic …

   I hung up following what sounded like a horrific explosion .. no further report at this time !

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 Replacements for Anwar may be slow forthcoming.   Al’s tenure in office was short-lived following the impromptu capping of Bin Laden . The Vice President of pond-scum was tragically thrust into the cross-hairs by the bravery of Seal Team Six’s extermination of Osama Bin Laden just months ago.

   Al is traditionally supposed to be buried within twenty-four hours , but that muslim custom may be jeopardized by the unavailability of identifiable remains. A team of subordinates manned with garden rakes search frantically for what’s left of Anwar Al , as the American Military calls respectfully , NEXT .

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  The alchidey American muslim reject Anwar al-Awlaki is grave-yard DEAD . It is what it is .. another dead muslim terrorist searching the jihad jungle for 17 burka-babes on pay-day Friday.

  can you say Hallelujah…

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 This week-end marks the beginning of deer-season for bow-hunters ..Bow season was originally introduced for those who found rifle purchase prices prohibitive , but now a quality bow’s cost could exceed that of an entry-level rifle..

  Once again the Fish and Game people have come up with a solution for the expense involved that prohibits the unemployed and poverty-stricken from enjoying a productive deer-hunt.

  Next year , two weeks prior to bow season , a third alternative will be introduced for hunting Bullwinkle … That marks the formal unveiling of  ” Rock Season “.. when the camouflaged novice hunter lurks in the bushes with a pocket full of chosen ballistic rocks of the perfect caliber..

  At the apex of adrenaline , the hunter jumps out and begins firing rocks at Bambi. 

     Regrettably , the rock-hunter still needs a valid license , buck tags , doe urine , horn rattles , camouflaged clothing , snake boots , buck calls , deer lease , deer-stand , corn-feeder , slaughter arrangements , deep freeze , outdoor cooking facilities , and a box of rocks !

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  RW , For whatever it’s worth… If you watched the Rangers and the Angels last night , the starting pitcher for Los Angeles , Garret Richards , was a closer for Heath Taylor at O.U.

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 Stamp-licker is likewise on his journey south .. driving the munitions convoy with a straight load of airport contraband including the instruments of carnage belonging to Ed and Chase Notee..

   Even Ed knew carrying a twelve gauge through security at Love Field would lead to flight delays and possible time in the Dallas County Jail.  so while the shooting team of Notee and Notee are flying first class to Corpus , Baccus and Gilbert are on the slow train down I 35..

   I’m thinking the pigeons stand a better chance of drawing blood on a barb-wire fence than suffering bodily injury at the hands of these drunk Jesters…

I’ve been goose hunting with Ed where neery a feather was ruffled after emptying a thirty round clip….  squabs are a darn site smaller and safer than a thirty pound goose..

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 Reading the story of Drew Pearson sparked a flood of memories from the Not So Glorious Days of the Cowboy franchise..

  My Dad acquired our first t.v. in 1957 . It was a second-hand RCA black and white , connected to a bed-spring antenna on the north side of the house , but a monumental source of Sunday afternoon family entertainment.  It was approximately the size and weight of mom’s cook stove and was comparable to watching a football game in an Alaskan blizzard. Dad would send one of us boys to turn the antenna for the least amount of snow-flake interference.

    That RCA should have been flagged for interference on nearly every play of the game.

  Dad was a Baptist deacon and each Sunday it was understood that the entire family would be seated on the second row of the west side in the auditorium of Montague Baptist Church, but it was also understood after 1960, that the sermon should never run past the twelve o’clock kick-off of the Dallas Cowboys , or the preacher might be kicking cans down hwy 59.. 

   That’s where I became familiar with names that had previously been foreign to the Carter household…  Chuck Howley , Eddie La Baron , Bob Lilly and Dandy Don Meredith to name a few ..

   Dallas was more likely than not to take a sound thrashing every Sunday as we gathered around the t.v…. Winning games was as foreign to them as watching t.v. was for the Carter clan , but eventually they began to win a few as we became accustomed to finding the ball on the snow-covered field at Cotton-Bowl Stadium.. 

   What priceless memories of mediocre games with unbelievably bad t.v.reception…. That was the sixties at our house…

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 I’m currently reading Drew Pearson’s autobiography..  ” Hail Mary ” …It’s one of those rare stories that compels you to read til your eyes grow so weary they refuse to focus..

   I’ve read several factual accounts of various sports figures that tend to bore the reader with endless detail of every professional game they ever played in.. Not so with Hail Mary..

  This is a life story of the man Drew Pearson , which includes only the highlights of particular games that were instrumental in building his career , but does not relive every down as a Cowboy…The book focuses instead on his personal life and people that played a determining role in shaping his character and his career.

   We as sports enthusiasts tend to place sports heroes on a pedestal , thinking their blessed life is a constant progression of privilege and unparalleled success. Drew Pearson experienced the gamut of emotional disappointment and insecurity in his journey to three Superbowls..

   His interesting story leads me to believe he’s the Dallas Cowboy I could actually engage in casual conversation. A man of humble beginnings who through hard work and dedication , has accomplished the goals he sat for himself in both sports and business .

   Number 88 was and still is , a force to be reckoned with on or off the field.

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  Does it seem odd to you that the day the elevated water bills arrive in patrons mailbox’s , Ed leaves town for a secluded pigeon shoot in deep South Texas for four days… Leaving his even-tempered secretary to take the brunt of irate phone calls..( and there will be irate phone calls )

      He gets the money , she takes the heat !  He’ll turn his phone to oil-field frequency. ( OFF )

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