Life takes all types, but I respect the customs of faraway cultures. We share some of the same tradition. I wear my trousers high. Pants are your bikini briefs. My cap is curved straight and the logos are from my hometown teams. Nothing else. No truck or lube or fishing references. I drive rented cars in the West. Fully-insured. I eat dust until I pass you. I don't need to see to get free of the dusty rooster tail. Cows smelled like shit. Out of New York I rent a car by the week. No worries. Even better if someone else drives you. I like friendly too. I wave to let other drivers know that I'm not asleep. My cellphone is not a pet. I like shooting trees. They don't move. I don't shoot anything. I leave the butchering to the butcher, but wild salmon is better than farmed salmon. A lot better. I stay out of the woods during deer season. Motherfuckers will shoot at anything moving to spill blood. I'm polite to all women, but only give up my seat to mothers with children, expectant mothers, and old ladies. At my age any further extension of etiquette tests my knees' stamina. Bacon is bacon and nothing else will ever taste like bacon. Pork is not the other white meat. It's pig. Ketchup isn't a seasoning and it's not a vegetable either other than in the flyover where there are no vegetables. I like my Cocaine Peruvian and my Mary Jane young too. Preferably a cheerleader with a pony tail. There is no sport evening more important than a Yankees-Red Sox game, except for a Celtics-Lakers event. GTOs racing down a fairway will wake up the fish and lastly I like my rock loud. If you want quiet, go to a Mitch Miller Band revival festival.
I might not be a cowboy, but I do like wearing boots and the hat.
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