Thursday, December 03, 2009

The Last Screen Cowboy ...


Is no more.

A surperb athlete, near beyond measure. A generational figure. Bringer of joy, inspiration. Eyes on the ball, always takin care o'biz. Suiting up, showing up. Doing the right thing. On station, on the job.

Not making the (virtual) trades, for this week's after hours drunken scrum ... at the teety bar. Nor raping some beauty pageant contestant, ya just met. Neither killing dogs for sport/amusement/money/power. Or being a serial child molester. Or ... beyond belief, cutting your ex-wife's head nearly clean off, in a crack/meth fueled jealous rage. Even perhaps a certain investment deity, robbing the elderly and charities (no less). Of fifty billion.

Where insanity is now the norm ...

PHILADELPHIA - A school counselor suffering an apparent heart attack. Died in a Philadelphia emergency room after waiting nearly 80 minutes for help — and a trio of homeless drug addicts, nearby, stole his watch instead of seeking aid, police said.

And a river of horror daily flows ...

HIGHLAND PARK, Mich. - A 15-year-old Michigan boy admitted raping a 3-year-old girl. So enraging his father, that he man couldn't control himself. Witnesses say the father then force marched the teen to an empty lot, and shot him through the head. A defense lawyer said Tuesday.

You gave us a lil glimmer of hope there Mr. Woods. A distraction from the enveloping madness. That still yet ... there indeed was one. One last screen cowboy. Now, cavalierly, you subject your family to such great indignity. Tossing them into a pit of humiliation, uncertainty, and despair. Without compunction. Setting them adrift. The folly of celebrity ... us believing that you were a man.

Takin the lumps, the missus gave ya? Not ratting her out. Credit you one point (heck, I'll spot you two). Paying her off? Well, do what ya gotta do ... I guess (and really, tain't none a my business).

Our trust however, is shattered. Me ... I won't suggest any personal reimbursement. No (for the sporty baseball hat, with the intertwined logo. That now resides in the trash). Or dwell on the loss of a random Sunday afternoon. Where you were decimating the field. That I'll no longer watch again, at all. Ever.

Like children we were. Transfixed. In front of the screen. Like in a matinee ... days long gone by. Watching a Lone Ranger serial. You undaunted. No matter how beseiged, how big their lead. You still managed to head em off at the pass. Everytime. To our raucous hoots and hollers.

The last screen cowboy ... is no more.

Don't let the stage door hit you in the ass, on the way out.

11:00 a.m.

Just because I can .... via Yeeeah!


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