Damned if I know how stuff finds its way to my cruller while doing a morning groundpound, but it does, and the stuff often doesn’t make much sense. Today it was below freezing, but I was wearing a nice woolen cap, so I can’t attribute this foolishness to a lack of cranial blood flow. Being a blogger, I’ve learned not to fight off ideas, no matter how goofy they may be. So, with that, I will share with you today’s brain fart:

I got to thinking about Western Heroes (called “cowboys,” when I was a youngin’). That must have fired off the nonsense neuron, because I got to thinking about renaming the gunslingers of yore. Here they are:

The Crisco Kid: Riding the plains in search of the ultimate flaky pie crust.

Wild Bill Hiccup: The gunfighter who had to hang up his shootin’ irons because of intractable spasms of the diaphragm.

Stoned Ranger: Hiyoooooooh … uh …. Hiyoooooooh …. uh … dude”

Bong-o: The Stoned Ranger’s faithful Indian native American companion. ”Hey kimosabe, you ate all the beef jerky? Got any cookies left?”

Chorro: The masked, caped swordsman in black who carved a “C” with his blade and could not suppress the urge to occasionally shake his ass and say, “Cuchi-Cuchi!”

Green Autry: The enviro-cowboy. It was said that ol’ Green would never let his horse shit anywhere near a stream.

Flabby Hayes: It is not widely known, but the bearded, ubiquitous sidekick curmudgeon, after growing too fat to ride a horse without injuring the animal, was responsible for the design of an equine sidecar.

Tom Dicks: A famous cowboy, or a subject and a verb seeking a predicate?

Crawlalong Cassidy: After several failed attempts at rehab, and having pawned his six-shooters, Crawlalong nevertheless ended up in the Bowery wearing a battered black hat looking for bad guys.

Goy Rogers: The name given to Roy by his buddy Shlomo Finklestein, the Jewish proprietor of the General Store near the Double R Bar Ranch.

Ya think maybe I need a warmer hat?