Stick with Me and You'll be Rolling and Smoking Bovine Poop in No Time!

Happy, happy Friday everybody. CCB is coming to you live from the shore of some lake at Sequoya State Park and Lodge near Wagoner, OK.  The place is pretty well equipped.  Decent restaurant, quiet rooms, great views, etc. BUT, no friggin’ bar.  Apparently, there used to be one, but the State of Oklahoma for whatever reason decided to shut it down when they renovated the place.

Eh, well…I’ll survive…maybe.  This is after all a Western Swing festival. Booze generally flows as freely as water through a bar ditch after a rain.  Sorry, need to work on my Oklahoma similes.

Yes, I’ll survive. Wish I could say the same for Cousin Fred. He all but begged me to bring him along on this trip.  The Dad was having none of it after the last festival incident.

Honestly, it never occurred to me that it might be a mistake to leave him at the compound with the Wife. As dedicated readers of this blog know, she and Cousin Fred don’t get along.  It’s fortunate, I suppose that Cousin Fred has moved into Hellkat One’s travel trailer, but he remains in easy target range of an errant shot (metaphorically speaking) by the Wife. 

Now normally I wouldn’t worry about Cousin Fred meeting an untimely accidental demise, but I do know the Wife is not happy about him taking up near-permanent residence at the compound. And, then, last night I started receiving the video texts from him.

I first awoke around 1AM to the ding of my iPhone and saw I had a video message from Cousin Fred. When I opened the message, the face of Cousin Fred filled my screen illuminated by the light of his own phone in an otherwise dark travel trailer.  Kind of reminded me of those scenes from the “Blair Witch Project.”

His eyes were darting back and forth. He had the most terrified look on his face as he whispered into the phone, “Cousin, please save me. She says she’s gonna hurt me real bad.”

In the background, I could hear the Wife pounding on the sides of the travel trailer and yelling, “I know you’re in there, you Arkansas hillbilly! Robin isn’t around to protect you. Come out here you freakin’ mooch!”

There were several more of those throughout the night, but things have been quiet since around 5AM (almost four hours ago), which was about the time I blocked messages coming from his phone. 

I’m sure he’s fine.

But, hey, on to bigger and better things…

Friends, you’ll be happy to know that I have found the perfect gift for those of you who want to buy a gift for your creepy Uncle Carl who has everything.

It’s also a great gift for people you hate. AND, there’s free shipping!  Anywhere in the world!

According to my friends over at the Huffington Post web site, there is a company in Hong Kong called S**tExpress. Now, if you weren’t able to decipher the **’s, we’ll call it PoopExpress just in case the Baptists are reading this blog again and plotting my overthrow. 

Seriously, this is a legit business.  For $16.95 (US), the company will pack a small plastic tub with horse manure and ship it almost anywhere in the world. AND, they’ll do it anonymously if you’re concerned about retaliation or something. 

I’m telling you, creepy Uncle Carl will love this s**t!

Hey, people, I can’t make stuff like this up!  Here’s the web site if you want to see for yourself.

AND, for those of you who are horsey types who daily ponder the mountain of horses**t growing outside your stables, this could be a whole new enterprise for you!

Think of it, scooping out horse manure from your own pile and sending it off to your customers’ loved ones…it’s the American dream I’m telling you!

I’m even thinking that beyond horses**t, there may be even more possibilities! Here’s a quiz, boys and girls.

What is there more of in Northwest Oklahoma than just about anything else? And no, I’m not talking about the low-grade marijuana that seems to be growing everywhere thanks to a rainy summer.

No, I’m talking about cattle…bovines…mooers…acres and acres of Elsies crapping everywhere!

Now the way I see things, this could be a sustainable untapped natural resource from a never-ending supply chain!  Move over oil and gas, here comes the Poop Patch!

Packaging though may be challenge. At first I thought perhaps a pizza box, but there isn’t enough depth in a pizza box. Heck, maybe we’ll just get larger plastic tubs…say, maybe we can partner with Tupperware and have an endless supply without the stupid parties!

Okay, I guess I’ll switch my phone over to start accepting messages from Cousin Fred again and get him going on my fecalful plan.