Sue Scott: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by Titanium Horseshoes. They're light, they're strong, and your horse won't even know he's got 'em on. Everybody wins, with Titanium Horseshoes. And now: The Lives of the Cowboys.


Tim Russell: Hope we get to Morris pretty dang soon, pardner. Cold up here. Brrrrrrr.

Garrison Keillor: The cold is what keeps the pollen down, Dusty. It's paradise for us hay-fever sufferers. And no poisonous snakes.

TR: All a man needs for snakes is a good pistol like this here eight-gun, I got.

GK: Looks ridiculous. Pistol that goes all the way to your knee.

TR: It's a Sport Utility Gun.

GK: Whatever that means.

TR: What's that sign mean -- U.M.M. 8 miles--


TR: Sounds like they weren't sure if it was 8 miles or not. Ummmm, 8 miles. Doesn't fill you with confidence.

GK: Maybe it stands for something.

TR: Anyway, soon as I get there I aim to head for a saloon where the light is dim enough to make me attractive to older women.

GK: I'm planning on heading over and finding me a bookstore.

TR: Well, there's the difference between you and me. Some people do it and other people like to read about it. (DEEP NICKERING) My horse thinks that's quite humorous.

GK: I would too if I were a horse.

TR: What are we coming to Morris for anyway?

GK: Well, there's a big feedlot operation over here in the next county. Cows fed on genetically modified grain and given bovine growth hormones. The cows are weirding out on drugs. Their eyes are sensitive to light so they have to put dark glasses on them and they play 'em Kurt Cobain and Metallica and those cows have lost all interest in sex. So we're bringing in these cattle from Wyoming.

TR: And our cattle are supposed to be sexy?

GK: Not to me and I hope not to you, but to a bunch of dopers, maybe. I wish you'd put that silly gun in your saddlebag.

TR: I like it here in the holster. Makes me feel safe.

GK: So it's a compensation mechanism.

TR: Compensation for what?

GK: Feelings of inadequacy, I reckon.

TR: Nope. Just like me a big gun.

GK: Well, let's go. C'mon. Heeyaw. (THEY WHOOP, HORSES TROT. BRIDGE...TIME CHANGE...)


GK: Where you want to go for supper? Lots of nice restaurants. Got the Minnewaska House up there. Diamond Supper Club. DeToy's. The Ranch House.

TR: I'd rather go to that saloon down there.

GK: The BioMass Gassification Plant?

TR: Looks like my kind of place.


TR: I like it that way.

SS (LOW): Welcome to Morris, gentlemen. What can I bring you?

TR: I'd like a bottle of rotgut whiskey and a glass. No ice.

GK: You wouldn't happen to have a nice white wine, would you, ma'am?

SS: You want it in a carton or a bottle?

GK: Bottle.

SS: Screw-top or cork?

GK: Cork.

SS: Got a 2005 Sardonic.

GK: What's that?

SS: A Sardonic is like Chardonnay except it's from Sauk Centre.

GK: I'll have that. (SS WALKS OFF)

TR: Don't see as many mature women here as one would hope. And the ones I do see look like they were ridden hard and put up wet.

GK: Say, Piano Player-- Piano Man. (PIANO STOPS)

Rich Dworsky: Yeah?

GK: How about playing something romantic, like Chopin?

RD: I thought I was playing Chopin.

GK: You were playing Camptown Races.


TR: When I said I wanted mature women, I didn't mean elderly.

SS: Here's your rotgut. (CLINK OF BOTTLE, GLASSES) And your white wine.

GK: Thanks. So how long've you lived in Morris?

SS: I don't keep track of stuff like that.

GK: You like it here?

SS: Compared to what?

GK: Where you from?

SS: From right here.

GK: You always live here.

SS: I have so far.

GK: Do you ever dream of a love that transcends the physical to become an enlightened, spiritual love that unites all things?

SS: Not really.

TR: Glad to hear that, ma'am.

SS: Living in a town the size of Morris, I find that the longer you know someone, the more they become a mystery to you. That you can never really know anybody. So you may as well not know people in Morris as not know people in Minneapolis. Right?

TR: Exactly the case. That's why I prefer fleeting affairs with dance-hall floozies -- because the first two hours of any relationship -- that's as good as it's gonna get.

GK: So you don't get lonesome in Morris?

SS: Well -- the deeper that scientists look into the structure of an atom, the more they see that it's actually just made of space. So we ourselves are actually mostly space. So, considering that we are mostly space, what's to be lonely for?

GK: Lonely for the love of your life.

SS: But since we're all made of space, we don't need to long for somebody--because we are that other person!

TR: If you are me, you sure have been taking better care of me than I have.

GK: So people in Morris take this philosophical view of love?

SS: The students? No. They take basically a 24-hour-view of love. But the rest of us-- yeah. That sure is a beautiful pistol you got there, mister.

TR: Why thanks-- it's an eight-gun.

SS: Very fine. Maybe I'll see you later.

TR: I surely hope so.

SS: I'll keep an eye out for you.

TR: Good. I'll keep the pistol right there where you can see it.

GK: We are all one, huh? Made of space-- interesting.

TR: Tell you what, pardner. I'm gonna head on over to the hotel. Catch you later. (FOOTSTEPS AWAY

GK: Hey. Wait a minute. ---- (DOOR SLAM) Oh well. (GUITAR STRUM) Long as I got my old guitar, I don't want for company. (STRUMS)

I ride an old paint and I lead an old Dan
I'm going to Morris a very lonely man.
Nobody in the coulees, nobody in the draw.
I look round the prairie and I only see moi.

Whoopitiyi yo ride around little doggies
You know Minnesota will be your new home.

Old Bill Jones had a daughter and a son.
And a wife who went shopping every day around one.
His daughter is a lawyer, his son's a CPA,
And Bill is embarrassed but what can you say?

Whoopitiyiyo, ride around little doggies-- (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

Tom Keith (MESSER): Hey! You!

GK: Me?

TK (MESSER): You. With the guitar.

GK: Yes, sir?

TK (MESSER): You see the signs? You're in a No Yodelling Zone.

GK: I was just whooping, sir.

TK (MESSER): No yodeling or whooping-- otherwise I am going to come over there and gasify you--

GK: Okay. Sorry. (STRUMS AGAIN)
When I die, take my saddle from the wall.
Put it on my pony and send him to St. Paul.
Put me in a warm room, around 85,
And give me some salsa and I may revive.

TK (OFF): Hey!

GK: Tiyiyo, git along little doggie.
It looks like Minnesota will be your new home.

SS: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by Pat Donohue Guitars for singing cowboys. They take a licking and keep on picking. (MUSIC OUT)