Howdy, "pardners" Now It seems a me all yall folks have problems, deep deep deep problems .... IN THE WILD WEST! Well, suffer no longer, "Dr" M. Puma is here ... IN THE WILD WEST! to answer yar'n questions an provide advice ... IN THE WILD WEST!
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A same reader done wrote ... IN THE WILD WEST!:
Real soon we got the town dance comin' up, n' it's a chance to take off the spurs n' meet up all social-like with the townsfolk. We's havin' it at old Branskie's barn this year, he sure has a big barn. Sweet Susie Cheesecream's gonna be there, n' well......I'm just all nervous ta get her attention, I guess.
So I been workin' on that there "caterpillar" broke-dancin' move, er some people call it "the worm", you know, the one where y' lie on yer stomach, n' flop forward, it sure is a special dance move, all right. I just know Susie's gonna be mine after seein' that, all right!!
So m' question's this: should I all-so try to do my "runnin' man" dance-move? It sure is special how I can do that move, all right. Look out, um runnin' but looggee thar, I ain't goin' nowhere!! Crazy!!
I'm just afraid the townsfolk'll see mah super dancin' skills, n' light me on fire, 'r bury me alive er somethin' cuzzin' they's thinkin' I'm doin' some kinda black magic. What should ah do?
Dear Achy Breakin' Heart Considerin' Electric Boogalloo:
The decision to initiateificate higher eschelon dance moves in ordera "pumacate" the filly o your fancy is not a tender footed decision, I recon. Atlanta dancin' in Kansas city's bound to stir up a racket. You's is bound to initiate a dance battle of sorts, then win against a dance "mini boss", then have them other dance team guys steal some of you'rses dance moves, then have to win it all in a national dance off compatition, with new moves that'n you makes up on the spur of the moment, when your dance team realizes they done stole your moves an such! Trus me, if you sure this Susie is worth it, then prepare yourself a dancin; crew, which yous gonna have to earn the trus of very slowly through the firs half of the movies. Nausiatin' plot twists an for some reason a collegiate dean what is gainst you an such are all layin in yorn path. Good luck young spur tipper!
A Reader done wrote ... IN THE WILD WEST!:
P'raps y' kin help me with a problem. I got this friend, see, he got his self a pair o' pants. These pants, they's so smart, they kin likely take on that there blue computer that plays checkers against them city folk, whatever that's all about. Idle nonsense, in my opinion.
Anyway, I got me a regular smarty-pants for a friend, n' he done tricked me into lettin' him steal my horse, Purty Polly. See, he comes over one day, with this biiiiiig ol' pair o' sunglasses on, n' one o' them fancy "non-leather" vests, n' tells me that he done know someone who want to put my very own Purty Polly in a dang Hollywood movie!
He goes on n' on, Purty this, n' Purty that, & says that there's a castin' tent set up on the other side o' town, n' they's clearin' out real soon, n' Purty needs to get over there right quick before they leave. Well, goddang it, he knows dang well I got my tree-shootin' practice scheduled in just 20 minutes, n' he offers ta take Purty Polly on over in my stead, tellin' me she's sure ta make the cut n' we'll be famous n' rich n' all.
Well, don't cha know I let 'em do it, n' gots all tingly-wingly about it, too. Sure enough, I'm waitin' up all night to see Purty n' find out if'n I'm gonna be a big-shot. Nothin'!!
Now I got no horse, n' my smarty-farty-pants friend ain't nowhere t' be seen!! If'n yer big doctor status kin come up with any way o' dealin' with this that don't involve emptying all six chambers into a smarty-pants's face, um all ears!! Goll-dang-IT!!
Dear Long Winded and Flat Footed:
Ifn' you love sumtin, and yous set it free, an it don't come back from the casting couch, you have the right to kill the philadelphia lawyer that done took it from you. Why're you so adverse to violins, I can't rightly recon. If we can't kill low down varmints that done us wrong, then why is we all wearing guns? It don't make no sense! Yous questionin the very dicotomy o' ourn exiztens! We has guns so's we don't gotta use em. Not "empty all six chambers"? Sheesth! Talk like that didn't disenfranchise the Indians! We poop where they used to! Why? Cause they knew we'd come guns and balls out, at every oportunity, just for the sheer joy of shooting! Send word out that your friend has two days to live. Sharpen a knife while you wait. A possie will form around you, and either the gears of hell will open, or your "friend" will make wise. Honestly, I still can't believe you wrote all that "not empy all six chambers" stuff. That's what the constitution's for!
A nother readinator done wrote .. IN THE WILD WEST!:
You ain't from aroun' here, are yuh? Wellllll, shee-yoot, I guess it cain't do no harm to ask ya a question. Fer m' friend, that is.
See, this, uh, friend, been layin' with the local prostitute, n' now he's got purple poppers all on his poinis. He don' know whadda do!
Cain ya help?
-A Dear Friend of Theodore "Scratchy Balls" Taggart
Dear Ponderin' Pecker Pustules on yer "Pardner":
I ain't never had a friend that was a dear. Low Down PoCat, yes, but dear, no. This Taggart feller keeps odd company, that's fer sher. Now I been from round here since your momma was a fine respectable young woman, insteada the fine respectable older woman she is today. I must say her pies are much improved though. Yes sir.
Now on to the question of your "friend" who is not a son who would break his mother's heart by tossin the hay with the town bicycle. You hear me boy, is I gettin through? Good. Firstly get religion in your soul, an cast the devil outta your netherland region. In fact, put up a rope and a sign that says the "netherland ranch" is off limits. Once ol mister devil takes down his tent an moves on, then fix up that cabin your saint of a mother tends all by her self. Once all yer chores are done, then drive a team of cattle three states away, and seek treatment for your probably by now rightly withered whore stick ...IN THE WILD WEST!
A readinator done wrote .. IN THE WILD WEST!:
Dear Dr. M. Puma,
I've been huntin' hogs ever since Moby Dick was a sardine. This mornin' while rootin' around a bramble patch I was bitten by a gol' dern rattler. Now I'm tougher than a two dollar steak but I'm feelin' woosier than granny watchin' the still. Should I see Doc Cletus or suck tha poison out myself?
Dear Snake Bite Fever, Ner Ner Ner:
Paisun ain't like wemen, you can't jus leave money on paisun's dresser and mosey on when the rooster crows. Facta the matter bein' I don't even think paisun has a dresser, or clothes an such. Now Imma sumin that yer out on the range, which makes the whole "see Doc Cletus" thing a bit academic, providin' he aint right beside you, or a just a snake bite halucination. Now it's possible that you live on a rattlesnake preserve, and Doc Cletus is your next door nabor. It's possible, but it aint likely. Backin up the thinkin horse, yup yer probably sufferin' from snake bite dimentia right narw, I recon. Go overn yer campfire, grab some burneded up wood an' eat on it, an' drink pleny o water .... IN THE WILD WEST!
“People who say they don’t care what people think are usually desperate to have people think they don’t care what people think.” -G.C.
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