(GK: Garrison Keillor, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith, TR: Tim Russell)
(WESTERN THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS....brought to you by Texas Red Disposable Explosives....when you leave a campsite and you don't know what to do with all that trash, why not just blow it up....with Texas Red? (EXPLOSION) Blows bottles, tin cans, plastic bags, into little tiny pieces. And it's fun. And it's disposable. (EXPLOSION) And now we rejoin Dusty and Lefty for another exciting adventure.
(HORSES' HOOVES, CITY AMBIENCE)
GK: Well, here we are in Redding, Dusty.
TR: Wedding? What wedding? If I'd a known we were going to a wedding, I'd a worn underwear!
GK: Not wedding. Redding. Redding, California.
TR: Oh, right.
GK: Not quite four p.m.
TR: Made pretty good time.
GK: Yes, sir. Once we recovered from those liberal dancehall floozies in Chico, it was straight sailing all the way.
TR: What time we supposed to deliver Old Death 'N Pestilence here? (BULL MOO)
GK: They're expecting Old Death 'N Pestilence at the rodeo by six o'clock, according to this contract.
TR: Cmon, Odie. Quit yer poopin', and step lively. --- Hard to believe that this sweet old bull is the same bull who goes berserk in the ring and has never been rid for more than two seconds in his entire career. Quite a fighter.
GK: Yeah. You would be too if they put barbed wire in your underwear and a guy sat on your back.
TR: I reckon.
GK: They strap that belt around the underside of em and it ----
TR: I know, I know----
GK: Rides up on em in a bad place----
TR: Okay, okay. No need to get graphic. I been in this saddle for ten hours, I'm a little sensitive.
GK: You think the rodeo is up that way?
TR: Nope. Straight ahead. That's where all these imitation cowboys are headed.
GK: These cowboys look pretty real to me, Dusty. They're bow-legged, they saunter pretty good----
TR: Anybody can saunter. Don't take nothing to saunter----
GK: And their boots are pretty well beat up----
TR: They bought em pre-scuffed.
GK: Their jeans are torn.
TR: Pre-torn.
GK: Those women they're with look pretty happy.
TR: Those women were pre-loved.
GK: Aww, you're just envious. You wish you could be walking down the street with some pretty girl in a halter top and shorts and legs like those---- Oh Lord---- be still my heart---
TR: Lefty, no self respecting cowpoke walks down the street holding hands ---- none of them. And where's the tobacco? Look at em. Nobody spitting. And look at their hair ---- that's shampoo and conditioner. Ha!
TK (OFF): Hey you! On the horse!
TR: You talkin to me, Poster Boy?
TK: Yer darn tootin I'm talking to you. I heard what you said about my hair. And I'll use shampoo and conditioner if I care to? You get that?
TR: Listen, Gorgeous George. You can pour champagne and oysters on your hair if you like, but if you were a real cowboy, which you ain't, you'd wash your hair with a bar of Lava soap every Saturday and be done with it.
TK: Oh yeah?
TR: Yeah.
TK: Who says?
TR: Me.
TK: Who made you the authority on cowboys? Huh?
TR: God did. (BULL BELLOW)
GK: You're gettin on the wrong side of our bull there, mister. Old Death 'N Pestilence is a good judge of character and I believe he smells something on you that don't add up right.
TR: Yeah! Aftershave!
SS (APPROACH): Okay, okay, okay---- what's goin on here?
TK: This saddle bum made a smart remark about my appearance, Evelyn. I think he needs to be taken down a notch or two.
SS: You two the owners of this here bull?
TR: We are until we turn him over to the rodeo, ma'am.
SS: Well, your bull is defecating in public in violation of local ordinance.
TR: Oh, B.S.!
SS: And there's a law against b.s. in Redding.
GK: Whatever do you do for fun here?
SS: So I recommend you move along before I take this bull into custody.
TR: Ma'am, Old Death 'N Pestilence is not a bull who does well in custody.
GK: He's a rodeo bull, ma'am. He's got a short fuse.
SS: Well, move him along to the rodeo then.
TR: Yes, ma'am. Git. C'mon. Giddup. (BULL BELLOW. WHINNY. CLOPS) See ya later, Pretty Boy.
GK: C'mon, O.D.&P. (BELLOW)
TR: Odd kinda town, isn't it.
GK: Lotta folks in T-shirts and ugly shorts.
TR: Tourists.
GK: Looks like it. You think those people realize how dumb they look in fanny packs?
TR: I don't think they realize anything. They're like buzzards. After a town dies, that's when the tourists come and pick at it. After the mines are shut down and the lumber mill and the gold is gone and the farms have gone belly-up, then they turn the place into a museum and interpretive center and in come the tourists. They'd never want to go see the place when the real work was being done and when the lumberjacks were around and the miners --- O no! It'd be too rough for em! And gradually the whole country is going that way. Factories closing, farms, cattle ranches, mines, and the only jobs left are gonna be flippin burgers and making beds---
GK: Dusty---- Dusty----- Dusty------ you're getting going on your rant against globalization and the Information Age, ain't you----
TR: Yes, I am. And I think it's a terrible shame the way real work is being----
GK: Dusty----Dusty---- I've heard this rant before. I heard it about eight times in the past two days.
TR: And it's getting better 'n better, ain't it.
GK: It's getting old. Look---- I agree with you, but we're little twigs in the river and we're complaining that the river flows south instead of north. Well, too bad.
TR: People come and watch cowboys playin at being cowboys. They come and walk through a mill and see some guys in costume pretend to be lumberjacks. All the real cowboys are in Argentina----
GK: Okay, okay, okay. There's the rodeo. Couple blocks ahead on the left. What you want to do after we deliver Old Death & Pestilence?
TR: Head back to Chico and look up that Unitarian gal I was dancing with.
GK: How'd you know she was Unitarian?
TR: By the buttons on her blouse. Stuff about nuclear arms and the third world and recycling and stuff.
GK: Coulda been Lutheran.
TR: Naw, she talked too much to be Lutheran. I had to kiss her to get her to stop talking about the importance of pre-school education.
GK: The girl I was with, I didn't dare kiss her.
TR: How come?
GK: She was a writer. Memoir writer.
TR: Oh, yeah.
GK: You kiss one a them, and she goes in the next room and you hear the click-click-click of the keyboard.
TR: Well, this Unitarian gal had a friend.
GK: Uh huh. Was she pretty?
TR: Who?
GK: The friend.
TR: Under certain lighting conditions, yes.
GK: I see. The friend Unitarian too?
TR: She appeared to be.
GK: She was boney?
TR: Yes. Of course.
GK: Hey. Maybe we should stop here and buy those gals some presents?
TR: Why would we do that?
GK: Whoa. Whoa. (BELLOW, WHINNY) Hold up there, Old Death 'N Pestilence. I think we should get em a little something. Women like that.
TR: It ain't a cowboy thing to do, but okay. What you want to get em?
GK: Well, they got nice crystal there. See? They got china. Maybe a souvenir plate or a souvenir vase or a souvenir candlestick holder----
TR: Wait! Who's that coming out the front door of that shop?
GK: I donno.
TR: It's that bullrider who rode O.D.&P in Salt Lake---
GK: It is?
TR: Same one. Hey! You! Cowboy!
TK (OFF, HIGH VOICE): Who? Me?
TR: Go back in the china shop, pal! This is Old Death 'N Pestilence!
(BELLOW)
GK: Easy, boy, Easy.
TK: OLD DEATH 'N PESTILENCE!!!???? OH NO!!! (SHRIEK) (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS) (ANGRY BULL BELLOW. HOOVES)
GK: Hey. Come back here.....
TR: Easy, boy.....Easy....
GK: Calm down, O.D.&P! (ANGRY BELLOW. CRASH OF WOOD. BELLOWING AND MAJOR SUSTAINED GLASS BREAKAGE) (MUSIC BRIDGE) (FOOTSTEPS, PACING, ON CONCRETE)
TR: I can't believe it. We drive him six hundred miles and we're a half block from the bullpen and he goes nuts in a china shop and we get ninety days in the poky and $11,000 dollars for damages. Where are we goin to get that kind of money?
GK: Only one way I know of, Dusty. (STRUM, OFF-KEY) Write a hit song. (TUNING)
TR: Oh no. Please don't. It's bad enough to be in jail. To be tortured on top of it----
GK: I think this is a song the American people are going to clasp to their bosoms, pardner.
I don't care for French water, the price is absurd.
I drink local water, upstream from the herd.
I don't care for pasta, give me macaroni,
You can have those pates, I prefer baloney.
And shirts made in China. As long as I'm able,
I will look for Old Glory on the old union label.
As for those imported cars, a Volvo or an Audi?
I prefer a Chevrolet with a Fisher body.
And jeans that aren't American--- those aren't jeans, they're pants. And the same thing, darling, goes for our romance.
When you're talkin love, you're talkin U.S.A.
The American male is No. 1 today
Don't you have relations with guys of other nations
I been all around this world.
(GUITAR BREAK)
When it comes to kissing, the French don't know how.
The Swiss shake your hand, the Japanese bow.
If you kiss an Englishman, my love, you'll be sorry.
A halibut is sexier or raw calamari.
Now darling you're complaining about my shape and size,
I'm not getting fat, I've just been globalized.
We're No. 1 in love, and No. 1 in battle
The American male sits tall in the saddle.
Don't go slipping round corners with those little forners
I been all around this world.
The best lover you ever saw ---- you're lookin at him, moi, I been all around this world. (YODEL)
(BANGING TIN CUP ON BARS)
TR: Deputy! Deputy! I want another cell! They got any openings in San Quentin?
(THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS......brought to you by the AFL-CIO, the Abject Friendless and Lonesome Cowboys & Indians Organization....the fastest growing organization in America. Maybe you're a member and you don't even know it. (MUSIC OUT)
(c) 2000 by Garrison Keillor