(GK: Garrison Keillor; SS: Sue Scott; TR: Tim Russell; FN: Fred Newman)
(WESTERN THEME. HORSE, COWS, WHOOPS)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS. . .brought to you byf.the
Comfort Corral rest home for cowboys.... When it's time to hang up the
six-shooter and take up the three-wheeler, head for the Comfort Corral.
And now let's join Dusty and Lefty for today's adventure.
(OUTDOOR AMBIENCE, GUITAR TUNING)
TR: Beautiful evening.
GK: Yeah. (STRUMMING)
TR: Sure looking forward to tomorrow when we hit Phoenix. Find
us a smoke-filled saloon and order a round of rotgut whiskey and have
us a tete-a-tete with some of those painted-up dance hall liberals and
wake up with a hangover as big as the Mojave.
GK: Well, I hope you enjoy it.
(STRUMS) Oh the cowboy life is a hard life
A life of toil and care
A life of constant danger
Of misery and bad hair.
Yes the cowboy's hair is greasy
And marked by his hat brim
And people see how it's pressed down
And they make fun of him.
(BAD CHORD)
TR: Was a beautiful evening. What are you doing?
GK: Trying to write a song.
TR: Why? There's a hundred good songs, why do we need any more?
GK: The need to create is part of the human spirit, Dusty.
TR: Well, deal with it some other way.
GK: Like what?
TR: Develop a serious drinking problem.
GK: But I want to write songs. I'm an artist.
TR: Your songs are terrible. When it comes to writing songs, you've got Van Gogh's ear for music.
GK: I don't know. I've written some pretty good. How about "Little Jim the Wrangler?" (STRUMMING)
Oh little Jim the wrangler
Will ride the trail no more.
For he got drunk and fell out of his bunk
And a snake lay on the floor.
He bit Jim in a very bad place
Which I'll just let you guess
And Jim hurt bad so he was glad
To go to his eternal rest. (YODEL)
(BAD CHORD, RETUNES)
TR: You ever wonder what it'd be like to be shot at close range by someone who you thought you could trust?
GK: Dusty, songwriting is a gamble. It's like blackjack. You win some, you lose some----
TR: Lefty, I hate to be the one to tell you, but--- you ain't been dealt a full hand in the blackjack game of life. You're trying to win with one card. And it's a two.
GK: Garth Brooks didn't listen to his detractors and neither do
I. (STRUMMING)
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie.
Cried the dying cowboy who then did see
A beautiful lady with cheeks like a rose
Appeared to him and took off her clothes.
TR: (PAUSE) Yes?
GK: Caught your interest, didn't I----
TR: Nope.
GK: I did, too. Had you wondering how it was gonna turn out.
TR: I know how it's gonna turn out. We're gonna get to Phoenix and find us a filthy low-down saloon and make the acquaintance of those tax-and-spend pro-choice dancehall floozies----
GK: (STRUMMING)
As I walked out in the streets of Tucson
I saw an old cowboy who was dying and I said,
"I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy,"
But by the time I said it that cowboy was dead.
TR: I hope you didn't write that.
GK: WHOOP I TI ---- (TR SUDDEN ALARM, CLATTER OF DISHES, SPILLAGE) ---- sorry----
TR: Dagnab it. You made me spill my beans all down the front of me---- lookit that mess----
GK: Sorry. I was just singing Whoopi ti yi yo---
TR: Well, would you mind warning a person before you do it?
GK: Okay. I'm sorry.
TR: If you have to whoop ---- say something---
GK: Okay. I will. I'm sorry.
TR: Soon as we get to Phoenix, you can go off in a room and whoop all you want and I'll head for a saloon and look around for the members of the American Dance-Hall Floozies Local No. 14 and hire one of them to amuse me. One who's been approved by the Federal Floozy Commission.
GK: I'm gonna whoop now.
TR: Do you have to?
GK: I'd like to.
TR: You can't wait until later?
GK: It feels like I got a big whoop in me.
TR: Try taking Maalox.
GK: It's coming, Dusty. I can feel it.
TR: Okay. Whatever---
GK (STRUMMING):
I'm just an old cowboy with very bad hair
I'm ornery and foolish and my smell's hard to bear
But I am an artist and a wild outlaw
And some kind of poetic genius, c'est moi
WHOOPiti-------------- (TR ALARM, CLATTER OF DISHES, HORSE WHINNY) ---- sorry----
TR: I didn't know you was about to do it again! Ain't one whoop enough? Are you crazy?
GK: Whooping is a part of cowboy music, Dusty.
TR: Well, do it quietly.
GK: A quiet whoop is an oxymoron, Dusty.
TR: Who you calling an oxymoron? Soon's I get to Phoenix and find me a saloon and a few gals from Local 14,
GK: Dusty, I hate to tell you this, but Phoenix has been cleaned up.
TR: It has?
GK: Those saloons with the floozies are gone.
TR: How can they be gone?
GK: Republicans took over. Republicans with family values.
TR: I don't believe it----
GK: They're putting criminals behind bars and getting people off welfare and they're cutting taxes and they're promoting decent family values and those liberal floozies are all gone.
TR: So Phoenix has turned into just another Salt Lake City?
GK: It's full of Midwesterners who've come there to die and don't want to be reminded of the pleasures they're leaving behind.
TR: But a man needs refreshment ------
GK: You can attend Bible study, Dusty.
TR: I'd prefer to get the sort of experiences that help to make Bible study more meaningful----
GK: Instead of having experiences, you could try writing about them.
TR: I prefer to do it my way.
GK (STRUMMING):
Oh I am a writer, in the cold and the rain,
I wrote with James Thurber and with old Mark Twain
They mostly wrote better than I and I mean it
But I am still living and that is convenient.
I'm just about to whoop now.
TR: Thank you for asking.
GK: WHOOPitiyiyo git along little cowboy
Say goodbye to the trail and the whippoorwill call
I'm about to whoop again.
TR: How many more whoops?
GK: Just one.
TR: You sure.
GK: I promise.
TR: Okay.
GK: You okay with that?
TR: I'm okay.
GK: All right. Here it comes.
TR: (PAUSE) Just do it, wouldja. Get it over with.
GK: WHOOPitiyiyo next stop is Phoenix
We'll hop in the car and we'll head for the mall
(THEME)
SS: THE LIVES OF THE COWBOYS. . . Brought to you by . . . Foam
on the Range.....the best drive-thru espresso bar in Phoenix.
(MUSIC OUT)
© Garrison Keillor 2003