Tag: Garrison Keillor

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Ask A Texan: Minneapolis Ain’t Lake Wobegon


Sometimes Questionable And Often Brilliant Advice For Folks That Want To Be A Texan, But Can’t Afford To Get Here

The Texan

This Texan received a dispatch from a Mr. Hardy Wood Guthrie of Okemah, Oklahoma, written on the back of a Walmart sales receipt. It seems his wife, Little White Dove, is dead set on going to Minneapolis to join in all the fun the protestors are having.

Mr. Guthrie: Mr. Texan, please excuse my bad manners for writing on a Walmart receipt. Just so you know, my wife bought all that useless stuff, except for the Chili Pork Rinds, which are my favorite snack, and of course the carton of Marlborough’s and the Natural Light Beer. Little White Dove, my Cherokee Indian wife, has lost her arrows. She’s watching the news and seeing all these protesters up in Minneapolis playing in the snow, throwing snowballs, and making snow angels with the help of those nice ICE boys. Now they’ve taken over Target Stores and are getting all that free stuff plus $200 a day for protesting. She’s real fond of that Pioneer Woman stuff and is hoping to get a new set of cookware and a bathrobe for free. I told her it’s about to get really serious because the Army boys are coming to town, but she got really smartie-pants with me and said, “I’ll do what I want to, this land is your land, this land is my land.” She said not to worry, she has a friend named Alice, and she has a restaurant where she can get anything she wants, over in Edina, where all the rich folks live. She is a big fan of that schmuck Garrison Keillor, Mister Handsy Man that lives over in Lake Wobegon, and is going to look him up and have a Lutefisk sandwich with him. She thinks it’s all a big party, sort of like Woodstock on ice, and won’t listen to me. I’m so frazzled, I’m thinking about writing a protest song about all this mess. Got any advice for me?

Little White Dove

The Texan: Well, Mr. Guthrie, sounds like Little White Dove needs a visit from the medicine man. I have a little experience with protest and such, as I went to the University of Texas in Austin, with all those hippie folks, and most of them are still there, riding around on their handicap scooters and smacking visitors with their walking canes. Back then, they weren’t collecting a paycheck for protesting, rioting, and burning things up; they got hopped up on those funny cigarettes and just did it for the fun of it. Not trying to name drop here, but I also spent some time with old Bob Dylan and his squeeze, Joan B. I think Bob is a poet and didn’t know it. and you can tell Little White Dove to be careful, because after all, the times, they are a-changing. I’m sending her a nice bouquet of big sunflowers to stick in the barrels of those Army boys’ guns, a Garrison Keillor VHS tape of Prairie Home Companion, and you a box of cherry bombs to relieve your anxiety. I’ll be watching the news to see how she does.

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Ask A Texan: When Religion Ain’t No Fun Anymore


Down Home Advice To Folks That Watch Too Much TV And Can’t Keep Their Faces Out Of Their Cell Phones…

The Texan

This Texan received a letter from Mrs. Olsen of Folger, Minnesota. Her grandson is having religious issues and needs some advice before he makes a big mistake.

Mrs. Olsen: Mr. Texan, I saw your page in the back of our church magazine, The Protestant Presbyterian. I figured a wise old man like yourself could help me out, don ‘cha know.

I was over having a hearty breakfast with my son and his family a few days ago, explaining to my daughter-in-law how to make a good pot of coffee, when their twelve-year-old son, little Rudy, announced that he wanted to become Jewish instead of Presbyterian. Well, by golly, by gosh, this set us all back on our heels for a moment. He recently attended a classmate’s Bar Mitzva and saw all the gifts and cash his friend received, saying it was around twenty grand or so of cash and such, and he wants the same. He said Jewish kids have more fun than we Protestant ones. Well, I’m not so sure about that. I had plenty of yippy when I was a Hippie, attended Woodstock, and dated every boy in the neighborhood. A few days later, I see him and his little pals at the mall, and he’s wearing a yarmulke and a Star of David necklace, telling all his buddies he is now Jewish and will be announcing his Bar Mitzvah soon. Now I don’t know skiddy-do about religion, outside of our little church in town, but I believe there is more to it than that. How do we get this little nimrod to listen to us?

The Texan: Well, Mrs. Olsen, a good cup of coffee is hard to find nowadays. I prefer a percolator and have been in a Starbucks only once. I will agree with your grandson, Jewish kids tend to have a lot of fun, that’s if they live in Texas and not near Palestine. I don’t have a lot of experience with that religion, except that a good friend of mine, now deceased, was Kinky Friedman, the famous, talented founder and leader of the Texas band “Kinky Friedman And The Texas Jew Boys.” Great western swing music in the vein of Bob Wills. I contacted Kinky’s good friend, Little Jewford, who carries on the band these days, and he says for little Rudy,” If he wants to be happy for the rest of his life, he should make a Jewish girl his wife.” “Little Jewford is a lifelong Jewish fella, so he knows his Matzo balls and is a wise old fella. Little Rudy will have to marry a Jewish girl and convert to Judaism, but by then, he will be too old for a Bar Mitzva, so he’s SOL. Tell him to stick to being a good, boring Presby boy, go to church, listen to his Pastor, get his education, read some Garrison Keillor books, and move to Dallas or Houston to find a nice Jewish wife. I’m sending him a CD of Kinky’s Greatest Hits and a box of Cherry Bombs to add some excitement to his life. After all, like Kinky says in his biggest song, ” They Don’t Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore,” and that’s a fact. Shalom and adios.

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When Northeastern Mobsters Hold Our Country Hostage


Rantings Of an Elderly Man That Has lost all filters and doesn’t give a damn if I ever get them back….

Let me set this writ straight from the start: I am not a union supporter and never have been. When I was building multiple projects at the Mall Of America in the early 90s, the local labor unions threatened me and my family with death numerous times. Tires slashed late-night phone threats and everything you could imagine if my employer, a Texas company, and I did not comply with their Nazi commands. This was in Minneapolis, Minnesota, supposedly America’s friendliest state; if you believe that whispering downhome wolf in a sheepskin suit, Garrison Keillor, the hometown boy, made good, then exposed as the unvirtuous butt-pinching bad boy of small-town America.

The longshoremen are shutting down the country because a forklift driver’s six-figure income is insufficient. The average income for a hardworking American is 58K. And a man driving a forklift on a dock is worth over three times that? Since when did our country go full “batshit crazy?”I would guess it was around when the sainted Franklin D. Roosevelt was crowned president for what he envisioned as a lifetime. An elitist northerner sporting a lilted half-European accent that smoked his ciggies in a pearl holder and humped more willing women than JFK could dream of. He was a cad, but considering the almost canine looks of his genius wife, I could throw him a bone: Sorry for the apparent cheap joke.

Momo and I are trekking to the HEB tomorrow to stock up on whatever is left. The panic buying is upon us like a flock of city park Ducks on a single Junebug.: my condolences to the dearly departed ducks in Springfield Ohio. Ordinary women in far-too-skin-tight leggings fight in the aisles over toilet paper, face moisturizers, wine, Mountain Dew, and Rice A Roni, the San Francisco treat. Down here in Texas, we won’t put up with that crap in the Northeast. We have plenty of farms with fresh produce, hordes of cows, pigs, and fish, feral pigs, feral cats and dogs, and feral people, and if we don’t have it, we will invade Mexico and take it. Why not? They have already invaded us.

Did I say too much? Probably. If you have any significant complaints, call me at BR-549 and ask for Junior.