If I had my way, I’d replace my human teeth with shark teeth. People would have to be crazy not to fear me.
“Are you going to Jill’s Christmas party this year, Gwen?” Ron would ask.
“I don’t think so. I heard Mark ‘the shark’ Peterson will be there,” Gwen would respond.
“Oh,” Ron would say. “Maybe I’ll stay in and check my e-mail instead.”
What respect!
Sometimes when I’m working out, really wailing on my delts, I’ll think about all the girls with whom I’ve had sexual intercourse over the years and I’ll completely forget to stop wailing on my delts. Then I’m sore in the morning because the list of girls is so long that the time it takes to recall all of them is way too long to be wailing on your delts. Last time this happened, I thought I tore something, so I went to the doctor and he said, “What’s the problem?” I said, “I was wailing on my delts too hard.” And then he said, “It shows. You look great!” And I said, “Thanks, doc.” And then he said, “Lots of women must want to have sex with you because of your well-toned body.” And then I laughed and said, “Well, there’ve been a few.” And then he laughed because he knew I was understating the situation.
What happens in LEAP YEAR stays in LEAP YEAR!
(To see what is going on this LEAP YEAR, check out the 2012 edition of 29 Films in 29 Days!)
Day One: An Unexpected Visitor
Day Two: Evil Test
Day Three: The Search
Day Four: Baby Food
Day Five: Heart to Heart
Day Six: Banana Fiasco
Day Seven: Home Video
Day Eight: Another Unexpected Visitor
Day Nine: The Hangover
Day Ten: Nap Time
Day Eleven: The Situation
Day Twelve: The Double Cross
Day Thirteen: Full Apartment
Day Fourteen: Another Heart to Heart
Day Fifteen: Lesson Learned
Day Sixteen: Bad Habits
Day Seventeen: Important Business
Day Eighteen: Peekaboo
Day Nineteen: Trade Secrets
Day Twenty: Inked
Day Twenty-One: Spider!
Day Twenty-Two: The Joke
Day Twenty-Three: He or She?
Day Twenty-Four: Sneak Attack
Day Twenty-Five: Yet Another Heart to Heart
Day Twenty-Six: Special Day
Day Twenty-Seven: Pranksters
Day Twenty-Eight: Love
Day Twenty-Nine: Dead Baby Joke
You’re so LEAP YEAR and you don’t even know it! LEAP YEAR, baby, LEAP YEAR!
The 1994 Jan de Bont thriller – SPEED – said it best: “Pop Quiz, superstud! Do not go under 55 or GBOOOM! GAME OVER, buddy!”
Well, we here at the Whiteman Brothers admit that, yes, we dipped below 55 m.p.h. a year or so back. As a result the website simply got blown to pieces.
Well we’re back! And with a new, easier to maintain, website – thanks to our BEST BUD Scott Carver. The 1997 Jan de Bont thriller SPEED 2: CRUISE CONTROL said it best: “55 miles-per ain’t a problem anymore. No way, Hotshot! Now just try to stop this giant fucking boat! Well, how about that? Do you feel lucky…punk?”
There is nothing in the world more sad than a cowboy watching American Idol.
Genocide.
Starving children.
Global warming.
Endless war.
These are all sad things. But not one of these sad things is as sad as a cowboy who watches American Idol on a regular basis.
One might think it’s funny to see a cowboy sitting on his recliner in stark opposition to the program that shines over him. But this would be an errant notion. You’d want to get rid of that idea. It’s not funny.
It’s sad.
My Grandpa is a cowboy. Not a teenage girl.
He should be basking in the starlight by a gentle campfire somewhere. Cooking beans in an old pot. A rifle by his bedroll in case a coyote comes for the horses.
Do coyotes even eat horses?
I like Indians too. But the idea of them watching American Idol isn’t nearly as depressing to me. Maybe because everything about being an Indian these days is depressing.
Cowboys aren’t depressing. They are awesome. Awesome hats. Awesome boots. Awesome guns. Awesome horses. And awesome old-timey things to say that make every moment complete. Everything about them is awesome.
Everything except them watching American Idol and voting for their favorite idol using the touch-tone pad of their telephone.
I have an Uncle who has cancer. Stomach or something. That’s depressing too, but I bet cowboys get cancer all the time. It’s a noble way to go. I wish my Grandpa had the cancer that my Uncle has.
Everyone else loves, and seems to enjoy, American Idol and my Grandpa seems happy when he tunes in. But still, I just want to smother him with a pillow.
If not the pillow maybe I’d gun him down in the middle of the street. We’d both cry man-size tears as I hold his head in my hand. He’d look up to me and say:
“Thank you, my boy…thank you for making me a real cowboy again.”
I’d say, “Your welcome, Grandpa.”
Then he’d die and I’d have to haul his body by horseback to some special resting place in Montana or something.
But it’d be worth it. I love him too much for American Idol.
The Pursuit is a series of short pieces that each illustrate a distinct point in life. Each one explores a different age. There might only end up being a few or it might keep growing. In the end it’ll be quilt made for Frankenstein.
16 – The Only Reason to Murder a Cowboy – Sean Whiteman