Vegas in My Rear-view Mirror

Oooh, don’t look now, because I think Pearl is really steamed. Yes, I have been taking surreptitious peeks at her for the past few days, and the woman is definitely pissed. She’s sitting over there, eyes twitching, fingers tapping, and I can tell she’s about to blow. Pretty soon, she’s going to slam both hands down on her desk, and it will be Katy bar the door. So I better get my licks in while I can, and then steady the soapbox while she climbs up on it.

Here we are, at the beginning of the Cowboy Christmas break, with the Last Cowboy Standing behind us. It has not been the greatest of seasons for the devoted fan, not by a long shot. The broadcast schedule has been an endless merry-go-round of confusion, the Pure PBR was a bad idea that has gotten progressively sillier, several riders have very nearly gotten their guts stomped out, and our good friend Chicken on a Chain is making his usual astute observations about the LCS. (Take a look, please, at the May 11 entry.) And to top it all off, now we learn that Justin McBride is going to Africa to hunt LEOPARDS.

LEOPARDS?????  I’ve never been McBride’s biggest fan, and this just about tears it for me. Clearly he has too much time and money on his hands and it apparently hasn’t occurred to him to spend either doing something besides shooting the shit out of something. Honestly—LEOPARDS????? Who in hell shoots a LEOPARD????? Oh, right, the same glassbowls who shoot elephants and rhinos. McBride, you and I are through. I will not have any truck with trophy hunters.

Having said all that, though, I have rarely been happier watching the PBR than I was during the third round of the Last Cowboy Standing, when the rankest of the rank were in the house and the boys all hit the dirt. Of course, everyone was anticipating seeing Asteroid and Bushwhacker go head to head, and they did not (they never) disappoint, but apparently those other five bulls did not get the memo that those two are the only ones in contention for Bull of the Year. As Ty Murray says when words seem to fail him, those bulls bucked.

I loved watching all seven of them, but I particularly loved I’m a Gangster Too, who is the spittin’ image of his daddy, and David’s Dream, who came flying out of the chute, sensed instantly that Silvano Alves was leaning too far to the right, took a hard turn to the left and dumped him in the dirt, and then raced for the outgate, snorting and slinging snot. He hit the brakes just before he slammed into the back of the pen, tossing his head and telling us in no uncertain terms that he was the wrong bull to mess with last Sunday. Yes, Mr. Dream, yessir, I understand you perfectly. Turns out bovine is my fourth language.

I will leave it to my colleague to address the issues that have her so stirred up, but one that I have to confess really bothers me is the way the bulls’ damned names keep changing. I could have sworn I had seen I’m a Gangster Too before, and guess what! I had! Only then, his name was Teflon Tom! And who is New Holland Powerstar? The bull formerly known as Quiet Riot! 

If this keeps up, I’m going to petition Cody Lambert to smack some name tags on the bulls’ asses before they leave the chute: My Name Was _______, and Now It’s _______! What's Your Sign?

Now I must go prepare the soapbox for my friend and colleague, the lovely and talented Pearl de Vere. Stand by for further observations!