The San Juan Horseshoe Newspaper
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www.sanjuanhorseshoe.com
Box 1209
Ouray, CO 81427
Established in 1977 by Kevin Haley in the remote San Juan Mountains of Colorado, USA, the San Juan Horseshoe has been “the only news what's pit to frint.” For nearly forty years this parody publication has lined birdcages and benefited juvenile canines in their pre-turf urination instruction. It has kept its readers sane in an insane world, sustained starving artists and writers in their malnouris
hment, and allowed the founder/publisher/editor/janitor/copy boy to raise hell and some wonderful children.
02/07/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/solar-power-the-big-lie/
(Ridgway) Of all the pinko-techno logic that has risen from the ashes, lauding the benefits of solar energy is the most ridiculous. The very idea that redirecting the power and heat of the sun for the benefit of modern man is not only silly but also it is also dangerous. It is the apex of […]
24/06/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/gunnisons-rebranding-as-tropical-paradise-in-hamper/
(Ohio Park) Gunnison is a lot of things but one of them is not tropical. That’s what civic leaders here have discovered despite attempts to convince the public otherwise. Heavenly summer temperatures, indigenous trees and the threat of snow has taken the community out of the running for a tropical...
24/06/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/driving-privileges-on-hwy-550-regulated-by-first-ever-state-lottery/
The Colorado Surname Alphabetic Highway Lottery has been implemented any day now due to motoring chaos on the antiquated byway of Highway 550, that runs from Montrose south to Bernalillo, New Mexico. Persons wishing to use the road must do so only on the day stipulated by the first letter of their s...
13/06/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/horseshoe-denied-flight-license/
(Blue Creek Canyon) The San Juan Horseshoe will not be offering pilotless glider flights over Blue Creek Canyon according to Gunnison County Commissioners. The summer adventure, prompted by the construction and partial closure of Highway 50 through the scenic canyon, had been scheduled to begin June...
02/06/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/pga-approves-shock-treatments/
The Professional Golfers Association today announced that it would approve the use of controversial and somewhat archaic shock treatment to correct poorly planned chip shots and pathetic, lunging putts. Stressing that the procedures would be strictly a last resort therapy and only administered in di...
30/05/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/talent-scouts-in-colona-next-week/
Official Hollywood talent seekers are expected in Colona in the coming days looking for character actors or maybe just the perfect smile. Interested residents are urged to “be seen and act talented” during the course of events unfolding right around the corner. If chosen, the lucky pick could be...
23/05/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/how-bunny-stoked-the-cold-war/
(Big Corn Island, Nicaragua) Years ago a poor fisherman hauled in a large squarefish* just off the beach at Sally Peaches. He hid it for an anxious, appropriate period then negotiated with its Colombian owners for a lucrative finders fee and a guarantee that he would be left alone to spend his hard....
23/05/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/walrus-stiff-found-in-w-h-taft-grave/
(Cincinnati) When cemetery engineers opened the grave of President William Howard Taft here, they found not the body of a 300-pound former leader, but the body of a deceased walrus instead. As luck would have it, Mr. Taft was nowhere to be seen, although his signature pocket watch was retrieved alon...
11/05/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/colorado-weather-just-too-nice-say-neighboring-states/
(Laramie WY) States bordering Colorado are up in arms over what they say are fraudulent weather patterns encouraged down in Colorado. Included in a hastily prepared class action suit are accusations of entrapment, extortion, water grabs and illegal baiting. Oklahoma, Kansas, Wyoming and Nebraska are...
03/05/2021
20/04/2021
https://sanjuanhorseshoe.com/2022-gout-season-will-continue-despite-virus/
This year’s gout season will go on as planned despite concerns over viruses, volcanoes and societal voltage. Although precautions are in place many unwilling participants are stocking up on cherries and anti-inflation aids in apprehension of crystal conflicts. Traditionally stretching from late Fe...
17/03/2021
THE COOMEEN WELL
“Indeed it is rare for an Irishman to tell a story. About as rare as the sky meeting the sea.”
- Judith Garibaldi O’Toole, St Patrick’s Day 1923.
Michael was a wealthy young man, a favorite of the village and the faeries since birth when the blessings of the ancient gods were visible to the Tuatha De Danann. Even the Druids took notice of someone else for a change, consistently giving their stark approval. When his father passed back in January he was intercepted after the funeral by several of the elders. Did Da talk of the well, lad, or did he plan to take the secret to his grave?
“I know nothing of the well,” smiled Michael. “Da never spoke of it. He took me there once but would not let me look down it. He said unfriendly spirits dwelt there and that was all. Stay clear, he had said. He dropped a small spittoon down the well for a little punctuation. Then we went to the pub.”
Soon Michael began thinking about the Coomeen Well. Why were these men so concerned, almost frightened?
“Some say it is enchanted and that the faeries will push a mortal down into the dark shaft just for the fun of hearing him hit bottom,” he told his sister Maureen, who was having none of it. “I’ll be passing the well this afternoon. Can I bring you anything?”
“Bring back some sense if you can,” she ripped. “since you don’t seem to have much of it.”
Michael laughed her off saying “I am a favorite” protected from the banshee and even the troll under the bridge. “The wee people love me and no harm can befall a favorite of the leprechauns. My life is blessed.”
He walked home that afternoon along the bogs and the east estuary where he turned down a steep path toward the well. It was quiet and starting to rain when he began to smell the seaweed, the primrose, and the mossy rock that went on forever, across the beach, then darted up over emerald hills through eyebright and blackthorn. He was there…at their wicked well. All appeared quite peaceful.
“Who goes there?” said a low voice from in the ground
“It is Michael, a friend to the Danann.”
“We have no friends. Go away.”
“I will not. I am a favorite of the Danann.”
The little man was red-faced, freckled and stuck in the well just a few feet from the surface. He appeared exhausted. It was clear that he could easily be rescued with a stout pull or two but first he had to make sure whom he was dealing with on this misty afternoon.
“What will you do for me if I pull you up?” asked Michael.
“I don’t need your help,” said the voice in the well. I am happy down here.”
“How is that possible? It is dark, wet and slippery. You must be mad.”
“No I am happy. Come and take a look for yourself.”
‘Michael moved closer, careful to keep some space between himself and the rock chamber.
“I will gladly pull you up sir but what will be my reward?” he asked knowing the wee people could be clever and adept at twisting fantasy from reality.
“Gold! All of you humans would sell your souls for a pound of gold. I shall make you a rich man this very day.”
Michael moved to the circle of rock that crested the shaft and looked down into the darkness.
“But I am already rich. Nonetheless I shall rescue you and you will give me gold to make me even richer.”
“That’s right.”
Michael reached down to pull the man up and found himself swiftly yanked into the well, falling and falling to the sound of laughter. He was je**ed so smoothly and violently that his boots remained transfixed on the ground. (Next to them, according to the current gossip, was his father’s spittoon crammed full of gold coins The magic treasure later surfaced at the pub, growing lighter by the hour, with the remainder of the loot going to the poor.)
No one on in Castletown-Bearhaven ever saw him again. Every so often a loved one carefully throws flowers down the well, thinking of Michael and his strange departure.
Only a small sign on the well memorializes the young man said to be a favorite of the faeries. It reads: Niether a bhrú ná a tharraingt má tá tú lán buicéad that translates as Neither push or pull if your bucket is full.
Others watch the well from up high - sometimes wrapped in the coat of a lamb, caked with sand or even in the dress of Cliodhna…Intruders are pushed into the well by the faeries more than we realize. The pucas in the dark prefer to torment England’s idle rich and tourists from America bragging on their Irish roots.
- Leopold Bloom
17/03/2021
Elvis Christmas music in March
(Connemara, County Mayo, Republic of Ireland) I generally don’t start drinking until 10:30 but I was on vacation. This looks like a nice pub. I smiled hello to two regulars named Sean and Rory and ordered a pint and a Powers. I have had the pleasure of tipping a few with characters like these two from town. They were like little children waiting for something to either break or talk to death.
“I just come back from Nashville,” said Fiona from behind the cherry wood at Griffin’s Pub in downtown Clifden on the Atlantic Coast of Connemara.
“Really. Who did you see? Where did you stay? What was the weather like in March?” I said.
Fiona went into a flurry of observation from Hank Williams to Minnie Pearl. She talked about the food and the Cadillacs and the cowboy hats. It was then that I heard it.
Elvis was on the sound system singing “Blue Christmas.”
Before long Sean and Rory heard it too. We looked at each other trying to appear shocked, even insulted by the unseasonable troubadour crooning and spooning about another lost love. Finally Rory spoke up:
What the hell are you doing with Elvis singing Blue Christmas in March? And you- the expert from Nashville and all…”
“I’m never coming into this pub again said Sean
“Good,” said Fiona.
“Neither am I,” teased Rory
“Fine. Drink up and get your arses out!”
“And you…she said, looking down at me…”Coming in here from over seas interfering with Irish culture and so early in the afternoon.
I was ashamed.
She let the entire song play and after it was all over put on some Christy Moore and then everyone settled in for the afternoon, on the merits of their recent victory over what is right and what is not.
“I thought you were leaving,” Fiona said to Sean
“No I think I’ll stay. I’m almost certain that Elvis is about to sing The Rose of Tralee.”
I got a smile from Sean and a wink from Rory and a kiss goodbye from Fiona. Not bad for a morning’s work. Now its time for lunch and a nap. How does one say siesta in Irish?
17/03/2021
“Don’t Encourage Them.”
Even though there are at least seven pubs open in Clifton during the winter months I found myself back on the same bar stool at Griffin’s around 8 pm. The music was unbelievable. Two men and two guitars and the whole bar singing the chorus…kind of those rebel songs…. The West’s’ Awake…The West’s’ Awake. Tearful tunes sung loud to drown out any of the old sadness that the Guinness may have missed.
At a break I wandered up to the small bandstand asking the singer, “Does your mother know you have such a fine Irish voice?”
“She’ll be here in a 1/2. You can ask her yourself,” he said
Only six of the town’s pubs have live music every night. On Tuesday night they are all packed…sippers and shooters and football nuts and some guy intent on reading Joyce in the corner.
“My dad is playing up at Lowry’s and my brother is part of a band over at Malarkey’s,” continued the singer. “Mom’s holding down the stage on her own up the street at the Central until about 10. We’re all playing together at Mitchell’s on Saturday. Will you still be in town?” he asked as if we were all were copsins..
“Guinness isn’t cheap but socializing is free so you need to find the balance. That way you come home with a few coins at least,” said an 88-year-old Mr. McCrery, a local farmer who still works his land and has been a fixture at Griffin’s since 1950.
I don’t have to get back to Dublin until Monday. I think I’ll hang out in this absolutely charming town and catch the whole family performing together. I know I’d kick myself if I didn’t, and besides I have a possible lunch date with a retired Cork policeman who tells gold medal lies with a straight face. Imagine that.
BONUS
Q. How could a person spend the entire day walking the streets of Dublin City without passing so much as one pub?
A: Go into all of them
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