Cowboy Departing...

Yup, it’s that time again, time for the great diaspora at the end of the school year, the end of the semester coming into summertime, them that aren’t in despair over finals are getting ever more euphoric at the prospect of parole from the dungeons of academia.  Needless to say there’s a lot of celebratory beer flowing in this town right now, and nowhere more than out at an oversize country dive known as “Tumbleweeds” where they’re currently hosting the umpteenth edition of what has become a bit of a local tradition.  

Officially it’s the calf fry, that’s the official name of the yearly party, but what the locals call it is the testicle festival where the cowgirls take the cowboys to celebrate the emasculation of the bovine, their descent from proud bulls into docile McBeef to be herded off to the butcher.  Maybe someday someone will convince me they aren't flocking to the affair wearing their very best raggitty “Daisy Duke” hot pants and cowboy boots as a show of solidarity with their soul  sisters among the bovine to celebrate the triumphs of feminism.  Maybe, but not likely, because when they get back to town to drunk to hide their hearts most of ‘em are wearing that look so common to the fashionably feminist who spend their days whining about how they just can’t find any men worth their time.  Poor fools.  You’d think that after all this time they might have figured out the relationship between castration and contempt.  But, it hasn't shown up on the cover of Cosmo so even if they do have half a clue they hide it dark and deep.  Oh, well.

Anyway, the whole crew of ‘em is leaving town (yea!) and I wish them all a safe road to where ever they’re headed, a great summer, and hey… don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way by.