.. Just over the hill and down the road and around the bend and across the bridge and up the the other road is a winter fishery. We got there yesterday and are going back today. The West Fork of the Madison is open until the end of the month, and with a 90-degree swing in temperature it is almost shirt-sleeve weather.
.. Most of the fish are already smelling the coming spring in the lowlands and there is a very sparse hatch of little black caddis and some snow flies. The riffle at the first pull-out was full of yearlings and they were taking yellow dusters. The narrows before the meadow was full of gear fishermen and the trout were taking gold 00 mepps. The second meadow pull-out was soft and muddy, we pulled in and walked to the water and the fish were cooperative.
A cowboy lay sprawled across three entire seats in the posh
Ellen Theater. When the usher came by and noticed this, he whispered to
the cowboy, "Sorry, sir, but you're only allowed one seat."
The cowboy groaned but didn't budge.
The usher became more impatient: "Sir, I don't care if you're drunk- if you don't get up from there I'm going to have to call the manager."
Once again, the cowboy just groaned. The usher marched briskly back up the
aisle, and in a moment he returned with the manager. Together the two of
them tried repeatedly to move the cowboy, but with no success.
Finally they summoned the police. The local sheriff surveyed the situation briefly
then asked, "All right buddy, what's your name?"
"Chico," the cowboy moaned.
"Where ya from, Chico?" asked the sheriff.
With pain in his voice Chico replied,. . . . . . "The balcony."
Ellen Theater. When the usher came by and noticed this, he whispered to
the cowboy, "Sorry, sir, but you're only allowed one seat."
The cowboy groaned but didn't budge.
The usher became more impatient: "Sir, I don't care if you're drunk- if you don't get up from there I'm going to have to call the manager."
Once again, the cowboy just groaned. The usher marched briskly back up the
aisle, and in a moment he returned with the manager. Together the two of
them tried repeatedly to move the cowboy, but with no success.
Finally they summoned the police. The local sheriff surveyed the situation briefly
then asked, "All right buddy, what's your name?"
"Chico," the cowboy moaned.
"Where ya from, Chico?" asked the sheriff.
With pain in his voice Chico replied,. . . . . . "The balcony."
A cowboy is riding across the plains of the old west, when he is captured by Indians. The tribe puts him on trial for crimes against the Indian Nation, and he is found guilty.
"You have been sentenced to death," said the Chief, "but, as is our custom, you have three wishes to make as your last requests."
The cowboy thought for a minute and said, "Well, for my first wish, I'll need my horse."
"Give him his horse," said the Chief.
The cowboy whispered something into the horse's ear, and the horse took off like a shot across the prairie. Twenty minutes later, the horse returned with a beautiful blond woman on its back. The cowboy looked at this, shrugged his shoulders, and helped the young lady off the horse. He then took her into the woods and had his way with her.
"Second wish," said the Chief.
"I'll need my horse again," said the cowboy.
"Give him his horse," said the Chief.
Once again, the cowboy whispered into the horse's ear, and once again the horse rode off over the prairie. Thirty minutes later, the horse returned with a beautiful brunette on its back.
The cowboy looked up and shrugged, helped the young lady off the horse, and went into the woods, same reason as before.
"This is your last wish," said the Chief, "make it a good one."
"I'll need my horse again."
"Give him his horse," said the Chief.
The cowboy grabbed each side of the horse's head, and put his face right up to the horse's.
"I said POSSE!"
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