You just can't make this stuff up! Our esteemed Senate Majority leader Harry Reid, who never met an earmark he didn't like, spoke in Congress and gave an unassailable reason why we can't cut anything from the budget for the National Endowment of the Arts. It's the Cowboy Poetry Festival held every year in his northern Nevada. I know I speak for most Americans when I say that you can have your operas, ballets and art museums......just give me good ole cowboy poetry every time!
And you know I'm not one to stand on the sidelines when a patriot like Harry Reid needs me. In the spirit of the fairness doctrine, I submit the following to convince those dastardly Republicans that you just can't put a price on cowboy poetry!
Bust that bronc and ride that steer,
Is that a horn stuck in my rear?
Don't matter none, I'm full of sass
I can take pain in my ass.
My testosterone is flowin now,
I think I'll rope and brand a cow.
And then I'll mend a fence or two,
And fart a lot like cowboys do.
But who's that cowboy on the range?
He sure does look a little strange.
Don't quite know what I should think,
It looks like he's all dressed in pink.
Is that a ribbon on his hat?
I guess we'd better have a chat.
He should know a cowboy's tough,
And we don't cotton to that fluff.
That recent "Brokeback Mountain" flick,
Has set a trend taint worth a lick.
Oh, how I long for days of yore,
When every cowboy had a whore.
But now since western times have changed,
The image has been rearranged.
We're no longer kickin butt,
Cause we're stuck in this rhymin rut!
No need to thank me Harry. Just keep on giving me blog material.
Yours truly, cowboy Al.