The Not-Lunch Non-Date Meet-Up

She looked right past the magazine I was reading

And into my face

'said, "Whatcha reading?" like interrupting 

    Was a desirable social grace

I replied sarcastically but not smarmily 

"An article on the lack of propriety in the modern world."

She laughed at that and retorted 

"You're a funny lot, eh Mr. Penforasword?"

Setting aside the magazine I gave her a quick once over

 And smiling, replied with little hesitation

"Doing the best I can to further international relations."

She laughed again and sipped her drink

While her fingers twirled

   The silky brown hair that perfectly framed her features

       Like a dirty cop ignoring legal procedures

"Didjer once around with your eyes suit your fancy?"

        She said with syrup dripping from her lips

I raised my brows in affirmation and nodded to be certain

    "You know how to drape your frame." I said

    With a second appreciative glance 

 "A lost art these days, which makes life difficult for us art connoisseurs"

                       

"You're quick with the flattery kind sir

Not that there's anything I didn't mind hearing

Does make me think you are in the habit, though

Of casting about compliments as if baiting a hook

     At least you're not shmaltzy about it, which is somehow endearing."

"Name's Sidney," she then announced, "though I'm known as Dis.

        Which makes sense once you get to know me."

         "I'm Kirby," I replied,  "A name my mother anointed me with  

         As she was a big fan of the serial Sky King from the 1950s."

"Introductions out of the way, I suppose now we start the interrogations."

She stated that much like DC Reid would, in the later episodes

  But before she married DCI Holmes

"Shall we draw straws or paper, rock, scissors for first question privilege?"

I quipped, trying my best to banter as a Southern Scot might

  Carefully, like before the first seven or eight pints

                 

She looked at me directly, switching gears to serious mode

       And said, "I'll go first. 

       Are you married? Involved? Inquiring minds want to know.

Because I may be forward, I may be a flirt of sorts

 But I'm no homewrecker, and I hope you're not a jerk."

My quick laugh was sincere, and I hoped she understood it to be.

      "No,"  I said as firmly as I could, "I am not married or involved.

I am decidedly single, free of any cumbrance, save for a cat

        That's honest full disclosure, I'm not even a beard, got tired of playing that."

"Not even a beard? That's an interesting statement - never met a cis-het man who rolled

        For leading ladies that aren't interested in drinking at the tap

         Then again, cis-het women do, so I guess the opposite must be true

       In the spirit of your pronouncement of full disclosure then

             I don't judge any of my sisters for the choices or inclinations they profess           

But as for me, I don't shop or slop at the Gap"

    We looked at one another as if staring at rare animals in the wild

      For a second I could swear we both breathed sighs of relief

     The modern world has made it easier to meet people

    Websites abound so every variety of human walking the globe has access

    Takes all the work out of searching for that elusive clover with four leafs

   So we sat chatting and laughing and thinking

   The minutes turned to hours and our glasses became coffee cups

When the waiter came over with the bill I noted she was particular but not finicky

  And wondered which one of us would be the first to screw this up

                           

                                

 

                

                

                  

Utah Morning, July 2026

 

Mounted Shooters Show At The Weld County Fair

   Know what's really cool about the Weld County Fair? It's free and fun for the entire family. Even the parking is free, which, in this day and age of monetized everything, is exceptional. 

   The fair is held at Island Grove regional park in Greeley, and it's well worth the drive. There is a lot going on now that the fair is in full swing and the midway is up and runnin'.

   On the first day of the fair there were not a lot of people in attendance, which was most likely due to the fact that not a lot was going on. There was the dog show, which I already covered, and there was the Mounted Shooters show, which featured men and women on horseback shooting at balloons on posts.

                      Ten post with ten balloons as targets...it's a speed and accuracy challenge 

   You read that right. Men and women on galloping horses, shooting guns, at balloons.

   It was kinda exciting to watch.

   Now, before anyone gets in a lather over the use of live rounds in an open air competition in which the public is invited to watch (which they sadly didn't, as can been seen in the pics), allow me to explain that the rounds used by the competitors are black powder blank .45 Long Colt shells with military crimped ends - these rounds generate enough gas and powder to break a target like an inflated balloon, but they wouldn't penetrate a T-shirt at six feet.

   Basically, Hollywood blanks, but without the Rust effects.

   Also, the balloons had it comin'.

   

Weld County Fair Dog Show (Ponies Later)

   I for one had never been to a dog show. Admittedly, I never much wanted to attend a dog show, but the opportunity to do so fell into my lap a few days ago, so I did.

   The dog show I attended was small - maybe 30 to 40 dogs were being shown, as best as I could ascertain. However, what the competition lacked in quantity in more than made up for with quality.

   All the dogs seemed to be bright and happy, as did the owners. Happy dogs preening and prancing were everywhere.

   The Weld County Fair Dog Show has been around since the 1970's, so there is no doubt of the enthusiasm and commitment of the participants.

It's More Than A House, It's Art

 

Lisa's Taste In Men

Lisa and the deliveryman sat transfixed by the television

True crime couldn't get much better than this

The deliveryman kept checking his watch but wouldn't leave his seat

His appetite for blood soaked stories with ludicrous twists

Knew no limits despite the deadlines he'd already missed

Lisa wondered to herself if the chief suspect in the crime

Was doing time and if so, where

Maybe he would be receptive to a penpal relationship or conjugal tryst

A girl could hope, a girl could dream, that such a man exists

The deliveryman finally broke away and said he had to go

So if she could text him later who was revealed to be the killer

He would be much appreciative and perhaps maybe next week

They could repeat the days reverie, he'd bring barley pops and chips

And be sure to schedule his lunch to coincide with a murder mystery

Lisa looked at the deliveryman and wondered if he was safe

Or a deviant, bad tempered monster waiting for his chance

To get his hands on her body and visciously tear off her dress

A girl could hope, a girl could dream, that such a man exists

 

A Hot July Wednesday Morning

The air seems to be full of magpies 

chattering like bingo players in a union hall

That coarse sandpaper sound

Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh. Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh. Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh-wranch.

As if they bear the burden of awakening the world

And are bound and determined to do just that

Until we all dutifully arise 

Wrinsh-wranch-wrinsh

Chapter 27 of The Assassin From Malaga, A Cripes B. Expressionist Crime Noir Novel

    The minivan pulled up next to a nondescript mid '80s sedan that had a faded Atheists Against Abortion bumper sticker applied to the rear bumper. The decal was old and weathered and was probably put there 4 or 5 owners ago.

   From the passenger side of the van a man short for his weight opened the door and then gingerly stepped out onto the asphalt, as if he was dealing with Plantar Fasciitis or some such malady. 

   He walked gingerly toward a large roll-off dumpster where two men were standing next to a chair. In the chair sat a man who looked to be at least twenty years older than everyone else present in the lot at the rear of the large warehouse.

   The driver of the minivan, who looked to be the youngest of the group, followed his passenger, deliberately slowing his pace as to ensure he could not overtake him.

   The short, heavy-set man walked delicately up to the man seated in the chair. The man in the chair looked up as he approached but made no movements of his own, primarily because he had been secured to the chair with ropes that were wrapped around all of his limbs.

   The short, heavy-set man looked down at the older man in the chair and asked, "Have you decided to tell us what we want to know Mr. DeCamps? From the look of your face I would say Mr. Marcora and Mr. Uchida have certainly made it clear we will stop at nothing to get that information."

   The man bound to the chair closed his eyes momentarily before answering. "You can torture me all you want Kachmazov, there is is no way in hell I'm telling you anything."

   "Torture you, Mr. DeCamps? These two gentlemen have but administered a beating. That is not torture, let me assure you of that".

    The short heavy-set man turned toward the man who had driven him to the site. "Daniel, did you bring my case with you?"

    "Yes, Mr Kachmazov, here it is". The short, heavy-set man took the small black case that Daniel proffered and unzipped it along three sides, then flipped it open. Sitting in a pre-cut foam block lay a small handgun, a SIG Sauer P365 9mm. 

    Kachmazov picked up the gun, then turned his head to look back at the seated Mr. DeCamps. He cleared his throat after a few moments of silence and said. "Torture...is a filthy business Mr. DeCamps, it's despicable, really. Undignified for all involved - the tortured as well as the torturer."

   The seated man spit angrily onto the hot asphalt of the parking lot. "Screw you, do your worst. I'm not go...". The shot rang out before Mr. Decamps could finish his statement.

   The four men watched in silence as Mr. Decamps now-lifeless body slumped over in the chair.

   "Wow Catch, what the hell did you shoot him for? Mr. Pospisil is going to be pissed we didn't get the info." Mr. Uchida's expression as he spoke was more one of surprise than concern for the sudden passing of Mr DeCamps.

    "DeCamps wasn't going to talk - men of his generation never do, they are a different breed. It would be a waste of our time and energy to try to make him. Mr. Pospisil understands that. We need to grab a younger member of the Cabal, someone like Daniel here - his generation cracks if you breath heavy on 'em - no offense, Daniel.

   "No offense taken sir."

    "Good. Al, you and Zubie get DeCamps into the back of the van and take him to the crematorium. Jade will be there for at least another hour - she'll bake him and give you the ashes to take to Mr. Pospisil. Make sure you take him DeCamps wallet and all his jewelry too - Mr Pospisil is a stickler for that. Daniel and I will take the sedan, have to make a few more stops. We'll meet up with you at Pops place around 7:00, see if he has anything else for us to do tonight".

    Al handed Daniel the keys to the nondescript mid '80s sedan and took the keys to the minivan from him. Zubie quietly joined him and they both lifted the chair holding the deceased Mr. DeCamps and carried it over to the rear of the minivan. 

   Daniel walked over to the rear of the sedan and popped the trunk. Inside were two half gallon rectangular metal cans of mineral spirits. He walked over to the spot where Mr. DeCamps had been sitting with one of the cans, opened it and poured a small stream of the contents onto the asphalt where Mr DeCamps blood had pooled.  

   Kachmazov smiled as Daniel performed this task and thought to himself that he had taught the kid well - he watched patiently as the kid followed the trail of small blood drops to the back of the minivan and poured a little of the mineral spirits on each and everyone of them. 

The Echo of Passionate Joy off the Steep Canyon Walls of Impending Sorrow

                                    Doesn't get any better than this

                                         Doesn't get any better than this

                                         Doesn't get any better than this

                                         How could it get any better than this

                   And I can't take it anymore

                                        Can't understand why it should be this way

                                        Feelin' overrated and underappreciated

                                        In the same long drawn out minute

                                        By the same long drawn out people

                  Can't stop wishing for more

                                       Will it get any better than this

                                       Can it get any better than this

                                       Could it get any better than this 

                                       Should it get any better than this

                 Have to stop wishing for more

                                       Fingerprints all over the bedroom window

                                       From the one that was trying to get in 

                                       Or do they belong to the one trying to get out

                                       Too late for regrets maybe hope for absolution

                   But I can't take it anymore

                                       Does it get any better than this

                                       Does it get any better than this 

                                       Does it get any better than this 

                                       Why won't it get any better than this 

                  See If I can take it anymore

                                        Oh how I miss my peace of mind

                                       ¿Cómo perdí mi paz mental?

                                       L'ai-je jamais vraiment eu ?  

                                       Ar tas jausmas buvo tik melancholiškas sapnas

                   How can I take it anymore

 

When It's Hot Hot, Call The Cool Cool

 

   Saw this sign in Denison, Iowa. Apparently, the fire department there will fill the pool you put up in the backyard a lot quicker than you could using your backyard tap.

   Probably a lot cheaper, too. 

Decoratin' & Celebratin' The 4th Of July