![]() Wow…here we are, just a couple of days away from the commemoration of the Cabinet Saloon gunfight and The Compound is crawling with people. A large herd of swarthy Texans arrived yesterday. This bunch I like. They brought enough food (and are cooking it) to feed everyone (including the heavily armed law enforcement out on the road) for days. Fabulous news, I guess. Though the only thing they’re cooking is beans with bacon. Lots of beans. And they’re offering warm cans of Lone Star beer to down all those beans. Welcome to the late-night flatulence hot-spot of the world. The Swarthy Texans are here to convince the spirit of Temple Houston to come back to Texas, “where he belongs.” I’m a bit nervous that if the spiritualists aren’t able to conjure the spirit of Mr. Temple, that the Swarthy Texans will dig up his grave and remove his remains to Texas. I’ll have to keep an eye on them, but in the meantime, I’ll eat their damned beans. Later, toward evening, a bunch of Temple Houston wannabes (they prefer the term, impressionists) showed up. All dressed in frock coats and big hats and with reproduction (non-operational) side arms. By eight o’clock, they were full of beans and beer and were squaring off with a smallish pack of historians who somehow wandered onto the place. “I outshot Billy the Kid in a shooting contest,” claimed one of the wannabes during his impression of Temple Houston. “Did not. Billy the Kid was already dead when that supposedly happened,” retorted one of the historians. “Did so happen!” “Did not to infinity! I know! I am a historian!” On and on that went. I quietly asked one of the Swarthy Texans to slow down on handing out the cans of beer. The Burning Man refugees have begun building a jackrabbit effigy out of toothpicks in the middle of the main lawn. Glad to see something productive from that bunch. Previously, they just kept walking around lighting matches and throwing them on the ground. Fortunately, it’s too wet here for anything to burn. Still no sign of geriatric Buick drivers. We received word late last night that they are gathering in Mobeetie, Texas and will follow the “Temple Trail” here to The Compound. That news of course started the Temple Houston wannabes with choruses of "Mo-beetie Mo-beetie Mo-beetie!" And you people still wonder why I drink? Okay, here we go…NEWS ALERT! It’s a good news, bad news NEWS ALERT! Ready? Okay, first, the good news. Researchers believe they have found the actual St. Nicholas! The real deal! <cricket sounds> Hey! We aren’t making this up! Now, the bad news, he’s not at the North Pole. He’s in Turkey. Now, the even worser bad news - St. Nick…him dead! So researchers after years of pain staking work believe they have located the final resting place of Saint Nicholas beneath the floor of the (are you ready for this?) St. Nicholas Church in the Antalya province of Turkey. Using ground penetrating radar (gotta get one of those – maybe I can find the hidden Mason jar of money buried on this place by a bootlegger back in the 40’s), they believe they have found a tomb secreted beneath the centuries old mosaic floor. The real St. Nick was known for his acts of kindness to children, which of course led to the legend of the bearded man in red. Staff at the St. Nicholas Center (yes it’s real and it’s non-profit) aren’t so sure. The government of Turkey isn’t so sure either. Suppose there’s more to gain if St. Nick’s tomb is never found than if it is. Note to self, start a non-profit center in 2018. Maybe the Center for the Study of Bean-Induced Flatulence. I’ll bet I could get a grant for that! I’ll follow it up with a book and tour, “Profiting from Your Non-profit: Pirates Abound!” Oops…gotta go. The Swarthy Texans have challenged the Fijians to a round of mumbly-peg with Bowie knives. Don’t any of these people sleep? That is all! Comments are closed.
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