For The Dallas Cowboys…The Parties Over


Don Merideth as a Dallas Cowboy

Don Merideth used to sing the famous country song ” Turn Out The Lights, The Parties Over,” a Willie Nelson staple, when, at the end of Monday Night Football, the losing team was shellacked and had no way to come back. Too bad he wasn’t here to sing this past Sunday evening.

Dandy Don was the quarterback for the Cowboys back when they were a man’s football team and had the best coach in the NFL, Tom Landry. How things change in 50 years. Now they have Jabba The Hut as a coach, and the team is a bunch of woke, “where’s my trophy” pansy-asses.

An Arkansas hillbilly strikes it rich with oil and gas. I guess he was out “shoot’n at some food and up through the ground came a bubbl’n crude.”

He moves the family, not to Beverly Hills, but to Highland Park, Dallas’s equivalent. He then buys the team for a song and ruins the shining silver star of Texas. Just because he played football in college doesn’t make him a coach or an expert, of which he sees himself. Jimmy Johnson was the best thing to happen to the team since Tom Landry, and Jones, in the true style of “Dogpatch,” runs him off with a double-barrel shotgun and rabid hound dogs. Moma Yokum would be proud.

I was a fan since the 60s, then dropped off the cowboy wagon for a decade or so, then back on when my son bought 2 seats at the stadium, and I attended games with him. So I had hope that this season, after 26 years of disappointment, the “boys” would win the playoffs and go to the “big show.” Well, they did put on quite a show Sunday, but it was a “shit-show,” and once again, they will be watching the Super Bowl from their media rooms.

Jerry Jones has made a fortune from building a colossal stadium to house a mediocre team and trick the fans into filling the seats and buying his silver and blue made-in-China crap. In the 1800s, he would have been called a “huckster” or a “traveling medicine show,” and likely ran out of town.

“Hey Hey I’m A Monkee”


It appears that Mike Nesmith, formerly of the Monkees, made a more significant impact on our culture than anyone imagined. It’s said that he invented the music video format and country-rock, two massive contributions to our video and audiophile obsessed society. He was a fellow Texan, so he gets a 10 in my book for that alone. Mickey Dolenz, the remaining Monkee, will most likely hang it up and enjoy the renewed interest in his former band and maybe make a few bucks. God Bless ole’ Mike Nesmith, and may he keep playing music in his heavenly venue.

I was a fan of the show; how could a teenager in 1966 not be? Rock music, comedy, and a groundbreaking video music format were the perfect show for that time. I played in a rock band, so I felt the show was made for us musicians. The public had no idea that the boys didn’t play their music. Super Beatle amplifiers, Gretsch guitars, and drums, a Vox Continental organ, top-of-the-line gear, and these guys were as famous as the Fabs or any of the English bands.

I don’t recall when I discovered the band was not a real band, but only four funny guys. It wasn’t a devastating blow, but it pissed me off that the television producers had put one over on young people. Don Kirshner likely leaked the truth when he was fired from the show as a music producer. Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart wrote the tunes, and the famous Wrecking Crew provided great music. We were duped, but it was a good duping.

My younger sister was a huge fan, so she and I attended a Monkees live show in 1967. They were playing their own instruments and were rumored to be quite good by then. The show was at Memorial Auditorium in Dallas, Texas, the best venue for a large crowd but terrible acoustics for music. The crowd was teenage or younger boys and girls, their mothers, and guys like me bringing a sibling too young to drive.

The warm-up act, a local band, Kenny And the Kasuals, put on a solid show. The promoters and the Monkees were likely afraid of being outplayed. As it turns out, they were, but the crowd was there to see the Monkees, not a local act, so it went unnoticed.

When the Monkees took the stage, the screaming began. I could hardly hear their first two songs. Mike Nesmith was playing a 12 string Gretsch guitar and couldn’t keep the beast in tune, so like any good musician, he proceeded to tune up for ten minutes. All music stopped. The crowd grew restless, and folks started to leave. No music and three Monkees standing around smiling and waving at the attendees did not make a good show. He got his instrument tuned, and the music proceeded, but the excitement in the room was gone. The band did an encore, performing “Last Train To Clarksville,” and the show ended. It wasn’t the Beatles, but my sister saw the Monkees live, so it was a good night.

The Cowboys Have Left the Building


What a disaster of a football game, on Thanksgiving day yet! Us-un’s in Texas collectively had a conniption fit right there in front of our big-screen televisions. The Cowboys snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

Just a few days ago, Smiley Jones, the Arkansas hill-billy owner of the hapless Dallas Cowboys was speaking to a TV sports head saying,

” this is the year, I’m telling you, I’ve got a good feeling about that Super Bowl.” WTF! Has he changed brands of scotch or had a stroke? This man is delusional. Look at that face; watery rummy eyes staring at something no one else can see and spouting grandiose predictions like a lunatic king.

14 penalties with 4 on the same Cowboy defensive player for pass interference. Who coaches these thugs? The Raiders also racked up 14 penalties, so it was all even-steven; the refs wanted to keep it fair.

Yesterday’s fair-haired children couldn’t capitalize on one Raider mistake., then, to make matters worse, a brawl broke out on the sideline involving both teams, and a referee got smacked on the chin, drawing blood and a huge penalty.

I am my own worst influence. Not watching the Cowboys was my declaration for this year, and I broke it. The Jones family has ruined a once proud and respected team. Maybe Mark Cuban will make them an offer they can’t refuse.

“Real Cowboys Aren’t from Dallas”


Where shoud I start, or should I start at all? This is the Dallas Cowboy team we have been used to for the past 25 years. Off to a good start, players get hurt, the team goes to shit in a Christmas basket. The owner, Smiley Jones, doesn’t give a crap. As long as the fans keep coming to his temple and paying outrageous prices, he is making money, and that’s what matters. I will be very clear and upfront about the team I used to support. As long as the Jones family owns the Dallas Cowboys, they will remain mediocre to a terrible football team. Dak Prescott, Zeke Elliot, just two hot-shot players who make millions of bucks, can’t get their shit together to save their own asses.

The Dallas Cowboys are less than a mediocre team, they can’t beat a decent college team. Kansas City beat their ass handily, and the Cowboys couldn’t score a touchdown. When was the last time that happened? So kiss you’re smiling surgically enhanced gold card hillbilly smiling rummy watery-eyed alcoholic cheerleading groping ass goodbye Jerry Jones. May the ghost of Tom Landry haunt your Highland Park mansion forever, and your dick shrivels up and falls off.

Did I say too much? Please tell Mark Cuban to buy the team.

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