Duck Hunting!

[el Ducko]

The whole family was coming for dinner, and the grandkids wanted sketties with sausage meat red sauce. Beloved Spouse had promised them some of my special Italian sausage that I made last night from a secret recipe known only to the members of this website, a few select members of the FDA field office, and one of the local EMT squads. There I was, midway through stuffing the stuff with my stuffer, and I ran out of hog casing.

What to do? Well, I`m nothing if not enterprising and opportunistic, not to mention thrifty. Did I also mention brave, clean, and reverent too? Probably not, because none of `em fit. But anyway, I looked about, saw that I was just about out of time, glanced out of the window to see what time of day it was, and...

Voila! (... or "vye-oh-luh," as they say in these here parts.) The answer lay before my very eyes- - a well-worn but serviceable garden hose. "Nobody will miss it" says I, eyes going beady. "Aye! I`ll just slip out there and borrow a piece..."

Stuffing went like a dream. I couldn`t get it to fit on the stuffer tube, so I just screwed the fitting onto the stuffer body`s threaded connection and started cranking again. It was sort of like using collagen, only the wall is a bit thicker. ...no problems at all. ...piece of cake.

Forming links was tough until I realized that, when you use collagen, you don`t even try. I soon had a large pile of sausage lengths, almost all cut the same length, perfect for putting on the trays in the smoker. By leaving a little excess, I figured, the ends would soften and fuse together in most realistic manner. Man, why hadn`t I thought of this years ago?

We`ll cut to the good part. The grandkids loved it. Oldest grandson, who likes ketchup on everything that doesn`t already have catsup on it, found that you could hook the ends with hardware fittings on `em directly to the squeeze bottle. Youngest granddaughter blew into the end of one which had been softened by the heat. It formed a bubble, then blew back at her when she released pressure. "It tooted!" she squealed with delight. (She`s at that potty mouth stage.) Her mother glared at her, but her father had to try it too. The bubble that he blew looked like the rodent that the anaconda swallowed. He squeezed it, said that it had a sort of sensual quality to it, and was backhanded by Mama.

Aside from a chewiness that some seemed to appreciate, and a slight sulfurous taste reminiscent of hot dogs and firecrackers on the 4th of July (or was it just the vulcanized rubber?), everyone seemed to appreciate my latest sausage making efforts. It was a skettie dinner worth remembering.

...and next time, I`ll remember to stock up on hog casing.

[el Ducko]

Pre-Mayan Civilization Discovered
an announcement from The University of Northern South Texas at Swinney Switch

ANNOUNCEMENT
The Department of Video Archeology is pleased to announce a major discovery which sheds light on an additional five hundred years of pre-Mayan civilization. The Department, which is underfunded at the moment (hint, hint), studies video footage of other organizations` published and video-recorded findings, gleaning additional information much like a flock of ducks does in a post-harvest rice field. Thus, many thanks go to the Public Television series "In the Americas with David Yetman." This semi-popular (Hey! It`s PBS. Whataya expect?) show featured a recent episode titled "The Pride of Guatemala: Tikal of the Mayas," in which were shown detailed images of the ruins and restorations by the University of Arizona. From images of the iconography and a reinterpretation, based on earlier findings and speculations by members of our own Department of Video Archeology in cooperation with the computing facilities of the Department of Redundancy Department, we are pleased to report the following findings.

Prior to the Mayan establishment of Tikal, there was an existing civilized governmental structure in place. The location, revealed in excavations in a tunnel beneath one of the temples, is known today by the local inhabitants as Patótitlán, which translates to "Place of the Ducks." These forerunners of the Mayans had beaks, which we theorize evolved into the prominent noses still evident among inhabitants of the region today.

The economy was sausage-based, which seems strange when it is remembered that ducks were not carnivores in those days. However, this would explain the common practice among modern-day Cajuns to put everything, including vegetables but especially rice, into their boudin sausage.

The inhabitants of Patótitlán and the surrounding countryside were numerous enough that their flocks must have covered the sky during migration season. Each time that they moved northward, a sub-species (later to evolve into the Maya) took care of the holdings, but the Maya were a warlike group and often wrecked the surrounding area before the ducks could return. Many bloody battles and alliances of convenience were carried out, to little avail. The economy fell apart. Ducks lost the art of making sausages, and only now are they reviving it.

Having no spoken language of their own, ducks could only leave evidence of their civilization where it would be found, in the writings and glyphs of the Mayan stone carvers and beneath the buildings and leavings and refuse dumps collectively used by both species. It was the mistranslation of the bird glyph that held up archeological progress for many years. Now, despite denials by University of Arizona personnel, it is the great privilege of the University of Northern South Texas to shed light on this little-known, seldom studied, field of great importance.

Indeed, a similar common archeological process can be seen in present-day parallel practice. Even now, large amounts of used diapers are being buried in landfill. Thousands of years from now, when whatever dominant species digs into the garbage pits of today, they will conclude that we revered and honored our children, preserving even their droppings.

INFORMATION
For further details on this exciting (you betcha) discovery, the University of Northern South Texas system, or to request enrollment forms, catalogs, hickory logs, well logs, Lincoln Logs, or toxic fogs, contact El Ducko at this website.

[el Ducko]

Well, it`s finally come down to this:
> > > > > Showdown at the WD Corral < < < < <.

No! Wait! Make that "a charitable event." Yeah. That`s the ticket.
...certainly not a grudge match, seeing as how both parties couldn`t afford a single match between `em, let alone a book of matches, not to mention a full box. (...or full deck, but that`s for later.) Besides, what`s a box of grudges worth, anyway? ...and how many, of what size? Seeing as how both of the combatants, at this age, couldn`t lift a grudge, let alone carry one...

Duckster versus Chuckster. Yup, you heard it right- - sausages at fifty paces. That-a-way, and seeing as how neither of `em has good enough eyesight to do any damage at their age, nobody gets seriously hurt. (That comes later, during the "sticks and stones" portion of the show.) (...uh, showdown.)

The event will be held this coming February 30th at the Carrizo Springs "Chorizo Fling, Buffalo Wing, Off-Pitch Sing, Excessive Bling" Festival Orchestra Pit and County Fairgrounds.

All monitoring and interpreting of rules will be done by those three Ukrainian girls in the WD advertisement, Marina, Yaroslava, and Juliya. (Why Yaroslava has that huge electrode in her skull, we`ll never divulge. ...electrolysis, possibly?) The girls, graduates of Ukrainian Institute of Hormonal Therapy, are anxious to perform their parts, uh, duties in carrying out this most important of showdowns, so be there.

Otherwise, you may wind up being featured in our next "Shocking Italian Video." Inquiring minds (including those of 700+ Thai women on-line and 2000+ Chinese women who may or may not even have internet access) want to know.

[grasshopper]

I heard the Duckster had better be on the look out. The Chuckster bottled a bunch of ratchet jaw horse flies, last February 30th for the event.

[el Ducko]

Hey! How come there's no polling function anymore? (Inquiring minds want to know.)
→It's already been used once.
→We polled hereford cattle, and they lost their horns over the issue.
→CW thought the Gallup Poll was about horses.
→The latest poll was polarized
→Polish jokes are no longer socially acceptable, especially on the WD site
→It ain't May yet, so the May Pole ain't up yet. (But don't fret.)

Write your latest poll answer on the back of a $10, $20, or $30 bill (this last one for you Texas Aggies out there) and send it to Duck Enterprises, Watertown, NY. The first ten who reply will receive their very own, suitable for framing, despondent correspondent and fire respondent credentials for the upcoming ssorllih sdrawkcab tsetnoc and bicycle race.

[ssorllih]

Yrev doog!

[Chuckwagon]

Ducky El Quackster, you poor, poor, man!
Did you know that there are four stages in life? There's a time when...

1) You believe in Santa Claus.
2) You don't believe in Santa Claus.
3) You are Santa Claus, and the time when
4) You look like Santa Claus.

There, there now, Ducky! Off your meds again eh? Don't worry about those guys in white coming up your driveway! They are "special" people who will take you away to Duckland at Quackworld. Wow, I don`t know what your condition is, but I`ll bet it`s really, really hard to pronounce! Yup, ol' pal, you're a taco short of a combo plate alright. Oh, by the way, are you still trying to peel your M&M's?

Gosh QuackBeak, what will you do at Quackworld? Do you think all those nice folks know that your first job was working in an orange juice factory... before you got canned? Just couldn`t concentrate could you? I remember when you worked as a lumberjack, but you just couldn`t hack it, so they gave you the axe! And do you remember working in that muffler factory? It was too exhausting. That was before you attempted to be a deli worker, but any way you sliced it... you just couldn't cut the mustard. Geeeeze, then you tried being a musician but found that you were not noteworthy, and then studied a long time to be a doctor, but just didn`t have any patience. You even tried to be a historian but found no future in it. Well, ol` pal... now you`ve found the perfect job... retirement. Stay on your meds fishbeak and never stop looking for that sloped lake just because you`re skier.

Best Wishes,
Chuckwagon

[DelNorte]

I stopped in for just a quickie (SHOOSH!), read these last two pages, and liked to say that Chuckwagon and el Ducko, you two are exceptional It's been a long time since I've seen such wonderful banter between friends. It's a real treat to see how flowerfull you two get.

I can't wait for the opportunity to come back and read more.

[el Ducko]

Many people have wondered how the feud between Chuckwagon and El Ducko got started. Well... for starters, thanks to both of you for asking (...or was that one person, asking twice? No matter.) That mangy son-of-a... but wait! I`m getting ahead of myself. (How disorienting! I HATE it when that happens. ...almost like getting stuck in reverse gear, like Ross Hill.)

I suppose it all started with CW`s joke about adding a pinch of gunpowder to everything you eat. The timing was wrong, and I`m sorry about that. I had to travel back in time to correct a few problems, and in the process, I must have changed something. ...or someone. Maybe I stepped on the wrong blade of grass, or maybe it was when that no-good sidewinding...

But wait! What happened was, and this is the honest truth, so he`p me... Uh... Where was I?

Oh yeah. So, in consequence, a couple of us riders decided to give ol` Chuck E. Wagon a scare. We were driving cattle up a canyon with wheel tracks in it, figgerin` that we were headed in the right direction. Ol` Cotton-Eyed Joe rode ahead a ways, turned around, and came back. "Duck," he sez, "this here leads into a blind canyon. We needs ta turn the herd around and head over ta thuh east a bit."

"Hmmm," I thought. "Tell yuh what. Tell Lefty, and I`ll tell Starvin` Marvin, ta stop the herd for jes` a bit." (That`s how they used to talk in those old western movies, and some of the old die-hards remain true to it today. ...not that it makes any more sense now than it did back then. But...)

Well, ol` Chuckwagon kept pressing forward, and we watched him go. I waited about ten minutes, then told Lefty, "...catch up with ya in a minute. ...gotta- - well- - you know." ...shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and pointed toward the brush.

"Pee-pee," he said, nodding. That`s what REAL cowboys, seven-years-old to fifty-seven, call it. Don`t believe me? Just ask one, next time you run into one who`s watching Netflix, which is about the only place you`ll find western movies these days.

And what he didn`t know was that the Moe Brothers and I sneaked ahead, hid behind a big rock, and waited until CW and his wagon-load of campground fodder came struggling up the already-steep road. As he came up even with us, Eenie rolled a small boulder out into his path, and Meanie peppered the wagon with a couple of fistfuls of gravel, about the time Miney and I let out with s series of engine war-hoops. (Seein` as how we were politically correct, even back in those days, they sounded like engines, Fords and Chevys and such.) Thinking they were in a race, the horses started. He reined `em in, but not before one of the wheels hit a boulder, climbed up over it, and dropped again, giving the frame a fierce slam.

...and that`s when all that danged gunpowder went off. It blew the rear half of the wagon clean to Hollywood, or at least, clean into Utah. It gave ol` CW some kinda gas pains, too- - he blew fire outs his nostrils and singed the horses` rear ends, and it blew fire out his other end, worse than that time in Dodge when we slipped some chile petine into his bowl-of-red. The horses took off up the canyon, and the boys and I could only watch `em go. They reached a fork in the road, took it, and sped out of sight. Yogi would have been proud.

As luck would have it, an earlier cattle drive from the Quagg ranch had become mired in the same gulch. As the horses bore down on them, they scattered. "Shoot farr!" ol` CW hollered, what on later thought probably was meant to be a warning, for you know what a peaceable and animal-loving person he is. But the Quagg boys wuz jes` back from overseas, and had signed on because they were having a hard time finding "real" jobs (like most veterans do, so remember to "hire a vet").

"Holy s...uh...smokes! He done called in a air strike on us!" one of `em yelled, and they scattered. ...all except one. "Uh Oh!" sang out one of that inseparable trio known as Clayton, Jackson, and Durante. He clutched his hat to his breast, looked upward as if in prayer, and announced, "Oops! Ah drapped the dynamite..." at which point he crossed hissef, "inta duh piano."

Now, no one is quite sure how he did it, but Durante always kept a piano handy. Perhaps it was in case Dale and Roy happened to ride by, but anyways, there the pie- annie was, rat smack in the middle of the runaway horses` path. Ol` CW`s eyes grew big as saucers as he and the horses approached their certain doom. Off to the side, the announcer intoned, or was it droned, "Will our plucky hero escape a certain death at the hands of the insidious Duck Gang, Huey, Dewey, and Louie, or will he be blown to bits by the dynamite? ... what about the piano? ..and are we allowed to use the word `plucky` in a family show?"

...and at that point, I woke up. I was beak-down in the keyboard, the buffer overflow noise was sounding, and I had logged into and out of WD so many times that I had posted over a thousand comments before I knew it.

So, there you have it- - the story of the longest standing feud in the whole ol` west. And that`s how it happened, folks... movin` west.

[Chuckwagon]

The proper name for peyote is Lophophora williamsii - a small, spineless, cactus native to southwestern Texas, having psychoactive alkaloids, (particularly mescaline) that have a particularly dramatic effect on the indigenous Texan Anatidae. In other words, Peyote makes Texas DUCKS as goofy as a sprinter who just ran the 50 yard dash inside a 49 yard gymnasium!

And just why would a duck eat peyote? No one knows! It`s a Texas mystery. The plant itself is rather cute. The blue-green shoots are mostly flattened spheres with sunken shoot tips. The cactus produces flowers sporadically that open during the daytime. These are followed by small edible pink fruit.

But not-so-cute is the tragic consumption of this plant by a lone, reckless, escapee called El Duckooo from the Central Texas asylum for the quacked up! Why, it`s just heart-breaking to visualize the feathered fruitcake chomping on the cactus. Certainly the psychoactive chemicals cause him to wander recklessly around in circles while he spews tall tales of half-truths, innuendo, gossip, and pure imaginative poppycock! Oh, the poor creature. Say, didn`t Daffy Duck have a cousin named Dizzy Duck? Could it be that....

[ssorllih]

I need to know what manner of dust eating cow puncher goes around eating obscure pieces of cactus trying to find some that will straighten their already warped brains?

[sawhorseray]

I think we need to be a little more sensitive here, a duck from the Texas Hill Country has serious threats to consider. Oh, back in the day, peyote was thought to be another "mind expanding" drug, which tells you a lot right there. RAY

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/nationa ... -1.1602316

"Some animal experts believe this creature found in Cuero, Texas is the result of inbreeding between various canine species. One animal expert worries it's being orchestrated by humans."

I'd kill every dammed one of "em, and the humans too. RAY

[el Ducko]

Yeeks!

In the words of the immoral W.C.Fields. "T'ain't a fit night out for man nor beast."
...exit, stage left.
In the words of the immortal Terminator/Governator, "Ahhh'll be baaahck."
...jet sounds while running for the door.
In the words of the mortal Moe Howard, his brother Shemp, and Larry Fine,
...Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! (Nyuck, nyuck.)

[Chuckwagon]

Rabid duck!

[bearspice]

Oh, by the way, are you still trying to peel your M&M's?

No, but he throws out all the ones that have a 'W'