Ask A Texan: Walmart And The Red Eye Special


Reasonable Advice For Folks That Don’t Know Their Butt From Fat Meat

The Texan

Mr. Don Limpet, a resident of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, writes that he had laser eye surgery at his local Walmart and has complications.

Mr. Limpet: Mr. Texan, I saw your advice column in the back of Bass Of The Month magazine at the Tractor Supply. You seem to be a down-to-earth fellow and have given some good advice to folks, so I’m hoping you can help a brother out here. My eyesight has been deteriorating for years, and it’s become so bad that I can’t distinguish a Yellow Booger Picker Bass Lure from a Purple People Eater Crappie rig. My lovely wife, Little Sheba, yes, that’s her real name, she’s a belly dancer who performs at Old Folks Homes and Funerals. Little Sheba said that Walmart has a special on Cataract eye surgery: $ 49.95 per eye, and you get to choose the color of lens after they suck out the cataract. So I say, ” Hell ya, with the money I’ll be saving, I can buy that new Evinrude motor for my Bass boat. The lady who was getting me ready couldn’t get the IV in the right vein, and my arm swelled up like a poisoned Possum. She finally called the gal over in the make-up department to get the sucker in the right vein. Little Sheba said I should go with the Paul Newman Blue Sparkles lenses since he was her favorite actor. I told her he’s dead, and so is his sidekick, Sundance, but she was insistent, so I went with the blue lenses. The procedure took longer than expected, and the boys in the produce department had to help out the tech suck out the cataracts with a Turkey baster. When I woke up, Little Sheba took one look at me and fainted dead out. The girl got the wrong lenses. Instead of the Paul Newman Blue Sparkles, she installed the Count Dracula Red Devil lenses, and now I look like Dracula or a Demon from Hell. The manager at Walmart says the operation is irreversible, and he is genuinely sorry. To make it up to us, he gave Little Sheba a $ 500 gift card to be used on Christmas Decorations. I look awful, and the preacher at church won’t let me in the door because I scare all the little kids. Can you help out a cursed man?

The Texan: Well, well, Mr. Limpet, you are either the biggest cheap-ass in New Mexico or a complete moron that doesn’t know your butt from a piece of fat meat. What did you expect for $49.95 per eye? Those folks at Walmart make $13.00 an hour and can’t even ring up a purchase correctly. As far as the red eyes, you can always get a job at those Halloween Spirit stores, or a spook house. I, too, once had a problem with red eyes, but it was the result of smoking too much pot back when I was hanging out at the Armadillo World Headquarters down in hippie land, Austin, Texas. Back then, everybody had red eyes, so it wasn’t a big deal. Try mixing some Murine and blue food coloring, or wear dark glasses and use a can like Ray Charles. I’m sending Little Sheba a 45 record of Ray Stevens’ big hit, ” Ahab the Arab,” the sheik of the burning sands, and of course a box of Cherry Bombs so you can set a few of them off in The Walmart. In closing, let me know how everything turns out, and you are the biggest dumb-ass moron I know.

Tune In And Drop Out


The above picture is of my late cousin, Velveltine, her late husband Zig Zag, and their young family. I believe the year is 1971, when they lived in a commune in the mountains of New Mexico on the Apache Indian Reservation. Zig Zag, ever the historian, swore they would live as the Apache did; thus, when the children were born in the tent with the help of an Apache midwife, he would pull back the flap of the TeePee and name the child for the first thing he saw. It was an Indian tradition: no cheating and no changing the name. He was a stickler, as was Velveltine, even though in her old age, she realized they traumatized the children with the crazy-assed hippie names they gave them. All the kids had identity issues as well as psychological malfunctions.

Pictured left to right: Gentle Morning Rain, Mama Cousin Veveltine, daughter Chattering Squirrel, daughter Noisy Thunderstorm, Papa Zig Zag, and the youngest child, daughter Two Dogs….well, you get the picture. I heard that when the children reached legal age and got out of prison and the mental wards, they changed their names to a more appropriate moniker. And we wonder why the world is the way it is today.

“A Deer Named Sweetface”


Last week was our annual summer trip to Ruidoso New Mexico. High in the Sacramento Mountains at 6500 ft. above sea level, the temperature was a pleasant 75 degrees in the daytime and a chilly low in the 50s at night compared to our 98 degrees high in Granbury Texas. I didn’t break a sweat for a week and didn’t worry about a damn thing that was happening back in Texas, although the national news covering the Afghanistan debacle gave my wife and me a few restless nights. A couple of iced tumblers of Tullamore Dew while sitting on the covered deck took the jangle off of our nerves.

Like most villages in the New Mexico mountains, Ruidoso has a large population of Deer, Elk, and wild Mustang horses. Pictured above is a local four-legged resident that took a liking to my watermelon and granola cereal. The small Doe was going gaga over the gluten-free granola, eating large handfuls from my palm. When I fed her bites of cold watermelon, well, she almost danced with glee. I was surprised how dainty her mouth was, and her gentle nibbles showed no sign of biting. She and I experienced a small mind meld and came away with a better understanding of the complicated relationship between man and wild beast. I have the food, she likes the food, I feed her the food and she likes me, and I like her too. It was illuminating, to say the least.

The picture above is when she tried to take the bowl of watermelon from my hand, or possibly give me a kiss of appreciation. Either way, she was a sweetie, and I named her Sweetface. I considered naming her Marfa, after the west Texas town we visited a few days later, but I am glad I didn’t because Marfa was a complete letdown and bubble buster. More on that experience later.