The Old Cowboy

Ya think you have lived to be 69 and know what you are...then along comes someone and blows it all to the ****ens!




An old cowboy sat down at the Starbucks and ordered a cup of coffee.
As he sat sipping his coffee, a young woman sat down next to him.

She turned to the cowboy and asked, 'Are you a real cowboy?'

He replied, 'Well, I've spent my whole life breaking colts, working cows, going to rodeos, fixing fences, pulling calves, bailing hay, doctoring calves, cleaning my barn, fixing flats, working on tractors, and feeding my dogs, so I guess I am a cowboy.'

She said, 'I'm a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about women. When I shower, I think about women. When I watch TV, I think about women. I even think about women when I eat. It seems that everything makes me think of women.'

The two sat sipping in silence.

A little while later, a man sat down on the other side of the old cowboy and asked, 'Are you a real cowboy?'

He replied, 'I always thought I was, but I just found out that I'm a lesbian.'

I was dating someone who kept telling me he was a lesbian trapped in a man's body!!!

I am just SOOOOO glad that this doesn't happen in the reverse scenario.

I mean...if my date imagines that she's a guy, trapped in a female physique??....

by Cliff Clavin, of Cheers.
One afternoon at Cheers, Cliff Clavin was explaining the Buffalo Theory to his buddy Norm.
Here's how it went:

'Well ya see, Norm, it's like this... A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers.'


WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may make you think you are whispering when you are not.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh that must be why I always have a sore throat

For me, it also means: May not know that my mouth is echoing my thoughts.

You know, it happens. When I say, "You just read my mind! That's what I was thinking!"

'Sometimes when I reflect back on all the wine I drink
I feel shame. Then I look into the glass and think
about the workers in the vineyards and all of their hopes
and dreams . If I didn't drink this wine, they might be out
of work and their dreams would be shattered.
Then I say to myself, 'It is better that I drink this wine and let their
dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.'
~ Jack Handy


WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what the hell
happened to your bra and panties.

West Texas Rain

'Twas the night before Christmas on the West Texas Plain,

The ranch had been suffering for a much needed rain.


Still, spirits were high when the kids bedded that night,

as their mother and I were assessing our plight.


We'd figured for hours the money we'd need,

to sustain the cattle with supplement feed.


Our figures confirmed we'd have to sell out, if there soon wouldn't come an end to this drought.


Resigned to these facts and arose from the table, to put out the few gifts our small budget made able.


The bounty this year would be pitifully small

when we noticed a note that'd been taped to the wall.


It read, "Dear Santa Claus, We'd rather you bring

instead of some toys, the most needed thing.


"Some rain for the ranch so the grass can grow tall,

We reckon that'd be the best present of all.


"Might keep us from having to move from this place."

Then I noticed their mom wipe a tear from her face.


"We're blessed in spite of our troubles," she said.

We hugged and held hands as we went off to bed.


We were 'wakened at dawn by some young shouts of glee,

"Papa, Mama, best hurry, come see."


"We knew he was real and would hear our request."

As they pointed to heavy black clouds to the West.


We were dancing and laughing and jumping around

when the first precious drops started hitting the ground.


Then all of a sudden the clouds seem to burst,

as the soil was quenching it's terrible thirst.


And from that Christmas on, our whole family will claim

that the best present ever was a West Texas rain.

The above LADY, just impresses the devil out of me.

what a fantastic member to the family.

Oh Gee! You're making me blush!

I am posting a very special poem, I hope you like it as much as I do.


The Empty Chair
Strange and totally queer was this Thanksgiving day.
The table was filled with all of the usual delectable fare.
Only you were missing as I sat next to your empty chair.
Others laughed and talked and pretended not to see.
Yet I knew that they were aware that you were not next to me.
No one even mentioned you at all by your name.
I guess they were uncomfortable in that it was not the same.
Gone was your sweet laughter that always filled the room.
Gone was the way your words lifted any lingering gloom.
That was just your way; it was Leah the nature in which you were made.
When I first arrived I went by habit to my usual seat.
I arranged your silver and straightened out the wrinkles in your chair.
Then it hit me; I was alone in a room full of people and you weren’t there.
Happy first Thanksgiving in Heaven my love…
Oh how I missed your touch.
J. Allen Wilson 11/27/2008

That poem makes the past come alive,
sitting next to me, in the empty place.

I've been here before.
I've known that her spirit was visiting.
Her mom dreamed of her, riding with us, seeing the road ahead, knowing two realities.
Her life is so full now, in heaven. Full of love.
That fulness of love spills over, into mortal life, giving her mom a glance of Forever Real Full Pure Love.
And it was not a dream. The dream was a touch.
It was her, touching her mom, who told me the dream, and I helped her to see what was shown to her.

Scoundrel that is beautiful, thank you so much for sharing.

To But Touch

Oh the simple act of holding hands.

The tenderness that only love understands.

Vacant thoughts lost to the sense of simple touch.

Never, oh never have I missed something so much.

Hands now reach, but draw back the empty air.

Fingers in imaginary quest stroke her beautiful hair.

So ordinary / extraordinary is this often taken for granted sense.

If you have, but now lose; then understanding comes to what it meant.


Crazy thoughts rush wildly against the full blown heart tonight.

Noises and bumps against the silence; sad emotions in full flight.

Oh but to touch her sweet hand once again.

Yet it is never, oh never to be any more to this old man.



J. Allen Wilson © 11/10/08

Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
with no thought of the dog filling their heads.
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
knew he was cold, but didn't care about that.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
figuring the dog was free of his chain and into the trash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but Santa Claus - with eyes full of tears.

He unchained the dog, once so lively and quick,
last year's Christmas present, now painfully thin and sick.
More rapid than eagles he called the dog's name,
and the dog ran to him, despite all his pain;

"Now, DASHER! Now, DANCER! Now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! On CUPID! On, DONDER and BLITZEN.
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Let's find this dog a home where he'll be loved by all"

I knew in an instant there would be no gifts this year,
for Santa Claus had made one thing quite clear,
The gift of a pet is not just for the season,
we had gotten the animal for all the wrong reasons.

In our haste to think of the kids Christmas gift
there was one important thing that we missed.
A pet should be family, and cared for the same
you don't give a gift, then put it on a chain.

And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight,
"You weren't giving a gift! You were giving a life!"

-- AUTHOR UNKNOWN

HorseGirl, I am very impressed/inspired, with the poems that I have read this morning.



Thank You!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks Greer!!!

Twas the day after Thanksgiving

Twas the day after Thanksgiving, hours before dawn
As millions of people bustled ‘cross the lawn
Many sacrificed needed hours of rest
For the open freeways and the shopping mall’s test
Each one had a purpose for why they were there
To save a few dollars on Christmas gift fare
The plan for their mission: high bargains galore
This wee Friday morning from store to store.

From candles to toys and wrenches to clothes
The registers lit up like ‘ol Rudolph’s nose
Using cash or credit, the money just flew
And, soon, the number of packages grew
Some went for one item and came home with four
Others dropped their load and headed back for more
The whole time devoted to shopping and fun
This day proved the holiday season had begun.

Across this great nation, come sun or come ice
Each Black Friday is a shopper’s paradise
From skateboards to iPods and cell phones to games
Shoppers gladly buy for their prized list of names
The names of the loved ones that each one holds dear
For the sake of spreading some holiday cheer
So, let’s celebrate ‘fore the day’s out of sight
Happy Shopping to all and to all a sane night.

© 2008 – Jill Eisnaugle’s

“When I look at ugliness, I see beauty.

When I am far from home, I see old friends.

When there is noise, I hear a robin''s song instead.

When I am in a crowd, it is the mountain''s peace I feel.

In the winter of my sorrow, I remember the summer of my joy.

In the nighttime of my loneliness, I breathe the day of my thanksgiving.

But when sadness spreads its ever thickening blanket, and that is what I see,

I look to a high place, until I find a reflection, of what lies deep inside of me.”



A Navajo Saying


I first read this Native American saying

On a trip to the southwest, many years ago

And it has stayed with me for all of this time

Now it travels with me, wherever I might go


For some reason, I thought of it this morning

As I got dressed and trekked off into the wood

Such ugly things are happening in the world today

And it’s now getting harder and harder, to feel good


We’re seeing far too much sadness and misery now

This Thanksgiving, far too many souls singing the blues

But as I stood here alone, in the silence of the early morn

I suddenly heard the voice of a little bird, breaking through


The forest all around me was awakening to a brand new day

This bird seemed so grateful, just to experience another dawn

And now, it was as if this one tiny creature had inspired many

Suddenly, it seemed as if the entire forest, had burst into song



Perhaps this tiny joyous bird, and that very sage Native American

Were both wiser than I, in finding that high place they wanted to be

Suddenly, both that old saying and new song, rang out through the air

And I realized I was in my own high place, right here, in these very trees



©2008, Mr. Ed