Working Ranch Blog
Jan. 11 2012, 8:20 PM
A had a strange happenstance, well, happen to me the other day. We had a nasty norther blow in on us, but the chores were done so it was time to find a warm place to hibernate. My wife called and said that I got a package in the mail so I headed in to check it out. I pulled out my trusty utility knife, wiped a few leftovers off from cutting hay string that a.m., dug through a heck of a tape job like the old man through some straw after his fragilè major award, and pulled out a fine looking “I love Beef” coffee mug. My wife just rolled her eyes as I had just received another fine John Wayne mug just the other day from the boss.
I quickly disregarded her lack of taste in fine art and began to admire my new mug and wondered if it might turn into a conversation piece someday. It’s funny how the mind works and predicts. For what I am about to tell you may leave you wondering at my level of honesty in the height of my stories. As I can recollect from that stormy day I believe what happened next to be true, but I can’t be completely sure. Was it just a frozen burrito induced coma that caused the terrible visions that I am about to reconjure to you? I can’t be completely sure, but nevertheless, the story must mosey on.
After receiving my major award and downing my hot from the oven previously frozen burritos, I retreated to the couch and that is where the trouble began.
I was just about to fall into my burrito coma when the alarm bell on the coffee pot rang. I pried myself off the couch and stumbled into kitchen and grabbed my new mug off the counter and proceeded to pour. Just as I was about to insert the horseshoe to make sure the Joe was done, a strange yet familiar voice, robotic with a slight southern accent (Tennessean if my ear is correct) spoke out ever so harshly, “I think your cup should read ‘I love heart attacks’ or ‘I love killing the planet’”.
I quickly turned very slowly, for suddenly I felt very bored and or annoyed. He was a large man with soft hands, perfect hair, and a suit only taxpayers could afford.
“Who are you and how did you get into my kitchen?” I enquired.
“Who I am is of no matter, but why I am here is of utmost importance. Listen to me now and hear me later. I bring you great tidings of good joy as Luke 10:2 says. Put the beef away Brett and save the planet lest your children burn in the great lakes of fire that will surely replace the great lakes of water if we continue to ravish the planet via your bovine terrorism!”
“What in the…”
“There’s no time for critical thinking Brett! We must act now! Put away the beef and pick up the tofu!”
“Actually I just read this report in the Journal of Animal Science that says…”
“We have no time for Scientists and their journals! They are very troubled individuals I know. I'm glad they can write their thoughts out. It must be very therapeutic and all, but we have a planet to save!”
“No you see, I just read this article in the Journ…this important non-politicized report that discovers the environmental footprint of beef production has been significantly reduced while increasing in the amount of beef produced.”
For the first time since his arrival, my uninvited guest was speechless. Maybe it was my elegant limericky prose. Whatever the cause of his pause, I could see he was still in the process of processing my comments when I thought I would continue before another outbreak of nonsense would occur.
“Yeah, it was done by a gal named Jude Capper, Ph.D.,
I could see by the look in his eye that he was still trying to figure out how a girl could be named Jude. Either that or he was wondering what my horseshoe was for.
“She also states that as the number of mouths to feed increases and the quality of diets in many areas around the world improves, the demand for nutrient-rich protein like beef will increase. At the same time, resources like land, water and fossil fuels will become increasingly scarce. These realities are like two trains speeding toward each other on the same track. If we listen to alarmists shouting at us to slow down, we could face a head-on collision of epic proportions. The only way to avoid this disaster is to accelerate the pace of progress.”
“Now we are talking Brett! Trains, taxis, and other means of freedom-reducing transportation is the answer!”
“No, I think your missing the…”
“No, I get it exactly. Jude is just short for Judy and that horseshoe is a lucky family heirloom handed down through the generations. You must be Scottish.”
“Actually, my family has German roots and anyway I think you mean Irish, but that still doesn’t explain how you got into my kitchen.”
“I’m glad you asked Brett, and believe it or not, how I got here has everything to do with the topic at hand. I drove my meth-powered S-uh-You--Vee.”
“Meth-powered? That doesn’t sound very healthy or legal.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should clarify my semantics for you country living trailer folk.”
“This is a house that I am still wondering how you got in.”
“Tomatoe, Potatoe. My S-uh-You-Vee runs on methane gas. Yes, Brett, I was very bored after inventing the internet, so I began work on a way to turn your planet heating bovine flatulence into something more productive for mankind.”
“So you have an S.U.V. that runs on cow gas?”
“Yes, which is why I stopped by because I noticed all your methane factories out grazing on my mother and thought that I could top my tank off.”
“Well, that’s my point about Dr. Capper’s study. Modern ranching methods have actually reduced the very fuel you need for Flat-Ul-Vee.”
“This is very disturbing Brett!”
“Disturbing? I thought you wanted the carbon footprint reduced?”
“Not at all. I want it reused or as my intellectual friends and I like to call it, ‘re-purposed’. After all I just got a patent on my…I mean I just invented my Flat-Ul-Vee for all of my fellow mankind.”
“Well, what’s the sticker on it?”
“That’s my ‘Think globally while acting locally but still thinking locally while acting globally if it pays well’ bumper sticker.”
“No, I mean how much does it cost?”
“A mere drop in the bucket at $150,000. That’s not even the best part. It only costs $250,000 to make! I shopped the plans around to all the auto manufacturers. Generalized Motors was the only one who would bite for some reason. They agree with me, though Brett. It’s a gold mine I’ve come upon.” (Hmm, as Jerry says, sounds more like the shaft.)
This is the point where I remember I shouldn’t take large sips of coffee while talking to insane people. After handing him a towel I asked how anyone could afford that.
“Oh, I don’t expect actual people to buy them, which is why I just got a government contract for 5000 to be produced. I know what you are thinking. We are sure going to need a lot of methane to power these beauties. This is why I’m so disturbed about Dr. Copper’s research.”
“It’s Capp…nevermind. What kind of gas, I mean methane mileage do they get?”
“Five miles to the toot.”
“So how many toots will it take you to get back to wherever you came from?”
“Well, the tank holds about twenty.”
“That’s only a hundred miles. What are you gonna do then?”
“This is the reason that I love flyover country Brett. There is a cow every five miles it seems. Now, if you could just point me to yours. Those outside I saw will do.”
“Those aren’t cows. They’re bulls.”
“Oh fooey. I don’t suppose you have any cows nearby? I’ve asked all your neighbors and all they have are heifers, steers, calves, pairs, and now your bulls.”
I finally managed to escort Mr. Shiny Shoes back out to his Flat-Ul-Vee. I was even about ready to explain to him about cows, steers, and bulls and such, but he just kept going on about coal powered factory farms that should be replaced with solar and wind powered factory farms. Then I made the mistake of asking him how he filled the tank. He proceeded to produce a long tube and O.B. gloves and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I sent him off down the road and told him about a neighbor with cows, but that he might have to “fill up” at night when they are sleeping. I really hope the batteries on my hunting camera are still charged.
Got any frozen burrito inspired almost true stories? Tell 'em to me at thekansascowboy36@gmail.com or look me up on Facebook and Twitter.
