SNUFF 'N STUFF






 SNUFF 'N STUFF

The famous fiddler from the South
Had just put a wad of chaw in his mouth
A gentile lady of manner berated his action
Saying it was a disgusting distraction

To which the fiddler replied with a smile
"I'll just give you this little piece of style"
"A gift from me to you, some free advice"
"No woman is ever gonna slap my face - twice"


© 2025 Brian McNeal




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LITTLE RED DOTS

We were sittin' around one evening, just watchin' the tube
When we heard a commotion at the back of the house
It was a break-in home invasion by a no-account rube
Now I don't cotton to robbery but I don't like to grouse.

Here he came, from the back where the guns are
While we were in the front without protection
Then, suddenly, I remembered the laser pointers were not far
I grabbed one and the wife the other without objection.

From two sides of the room those beams danced across his face
Next thing we knew our big tomcat was up in the air like a Benihana cleaver
With the other two cats hot on the chase
That burgler boy was looking at a triple dose of cat scratch fever.

Our cats went after those little red dots like three miners after the same gold
Quick as a Texas Two-Step they had him down on the rug
Scratching, clawing, biting and makin' his blood run cold
Right about then, I'm sure he was thinkin' over his options as a career thug.

The big tomcat had one of his eyes out of the socket
There was so much loose skin we couldn't tell if he had two ears or three
Somehow the wife's beam had slipped down to his front pant's pocket
And the orange tabby made sure he'll remember this night every time he needs to pee.

The Sheriff's deputies laughed so hard when we told 'em the details
They didn't know how to write it down in their report
They decided they would just haul him off to the county jail
And put down "defensive wounds from a feline contact sport".

They took pictures and collected samples to use later in court
Then the Siamese started coughin' and hackin' like she had a hairball
The wife was trying to help her when she spit up something right on the davenport
The deputies looked it over and identified it as the tip of his finger, nail and all.

Then one of the deputies started gettin' a bit pale
He looked at the partial finger and quickly ran for the privy
When he came back in, he said, "I'm normally not that frail"
"But I got to thinkin' how lucky he was that it was the Siamese and not the orange kitty."

They were on the air with Dispatch wondering about impounding our pets
When they realized we still had the laser beams
Could they make it to the squad car? They were mentally making bets
But then Dispatch told 'em to turn that part over to the animal teams.

The paramedics proclaimed that he'd live but he'll look a lot less attractive
With the number of scars left after the sutures
They didn't quite understand why our cats were so hyperactive
But he'll save money on halloween masks in the future.

Well, we got the dreaded call from Animal Control the very next day
We had prepared all night and were ready to do battle before we'd surrender
But they just laughed and so did we when we heard what they had to say
They were lookin' to buy a case of the same lasers and wanted to know the vendor.
...

© 2024 Brian McNeal   Published  4/28/24  NATIONAL COWBOY POETRY GATHERING FAN PAGE

Oh, and by the way, we've changed the names of our odd pets
The Siamese is Lorena, the big tomcat is John Wayne
The vicious orange tabby is Bobbitt
And we have a new Doberman now we call Bloodstain.



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COWBOY ALARM CLOCK   

I'm here to tell ya just exactly why 
You'll never hear a cowboy's alarm clock ring
Cowboys already know, but for city folk, I'll try
It's simply because there just ain't no such thing.

There are any number of reasons
Why a cowboy doesn't need an alarm clock
Most of them have to do with animals and seasons
But the best is because he comes from good stock

Sleepin' in late is nary a consideration
There are animals to feed and chores to be done
All before breakfast and coffee stimulation
It's just the way a ranch is run

Growin' up rural on the cattle spread
Gives one a sense of accomplishment
A chance to work with your hands and your head
No one will ever say a ranch kid ain't self-confident

They may not do two-thumb typing
On the latest handheld device
But you'll never hear them griping
They've not been duped by a fools paradise

It's not that ranch kids go without
It's more about learning to make do
How to look at a problem and figure it out
Ranch life gives them skills to accrue

His dad and grandad were both the same way
Traditions passed down and lessons learned
Cowboys get their makeup from good sway
But it don't come easy, it's hard-earned.

So a cowboy grows up and carrys on
A lifestyle like his ancestors of yore
No wakeup call needed to be up before dawn
Like yesterday and the day before, today begins with a chore

Just like moms have eyes in the back of their head
A cowboy has a built in clock that tells him when
He'll rely upon that clock untill the day he's dead
You may not comprehend because it's a thing for cowboys, girls, women and men



© 2024 Brian McNeal





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THINGS THEY WILL NEVER KNOW

When the "Kodak Moment" happened just as the film ran out
How to make a "long distance call" instead of a shout
Dimming your headlights with the toe of your left foot
Or how to turn real pages in a good book.

Cleaning the chimney and filling the lamp with oil
Waiting longer than a minute for the water to boil.
Making a change for the good without mayhem
Or just making change without a computer to help 'em

What a sock-hop is and a ten cent flick
When "on demand" meant: "do it quick"
How to share music in a listening booth
Or the difference between real and fake truth.

When a cloud stored only rainwater
Why it's good to have an alma mater
What the "rewind" button actually does
And to do what Mama said, just because.

Telling time without a digital clock
Getting excited about going to the cakewalk
What the letters V-C-R actually stand for
Or why it's important to always close the barn door.

When a doctor had the only belt that would beep
How to talk without using text-speak
Holes on the sides of the paper for the tractor feed
Or how to find a job without INDEED.

How to do research without asking Google
The serenity of "Taps" when played on a real bugle
Using all ten fingers on the typewriter keys
Or how much more they can get with the word "please."

What someone means when they need pen and paper
What happens when a plane flies into a skyscraper
Cosmic rays are not something they invented
And coffee is already scented

There is no such thing as artificial intelligence
That politeness and courtesy should take precedence
Just why they should prepare a checklist
Or that real and tangible stupidity does exist

Why people needed carbon paper for their typewriters
That they didn't originate the name "Foo Fighters"
The original meaning of the word "Geek"
Or why it's wise to think before you misspeak

What is meant by the term "Broken Record"
Or why it's necessary to go back to the drawing board
That some things still take a long time to finish
Or why hurrying will cause the quality to diminish

How to write in cursive
Why a song has verses
That a man can never be a female
Or that knowledge requires one to travail

The list goes on and on and will never end
Time changes, and technology will always transcend
The shear amount of what they don't know amazes me
But I don't know why they frown on learning history



                          

© 2024 Brian McNeal



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CITY RANCHERS

Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sometime,
People from the city encroaching past the rural line.
As life gives us chances to experience things anew,
More and more of the clueless come into view.

Pushing the envelope to advance and grow,
Is only good so long as you don't crow.
Getting bigger than your britches can be fateful,
When you've helped yourself to more'n a plateful.

"A man's got to know his limitations," according to Dirty Harry.
Cross the line, and you'll never get any prize more than tertiary.
Wiser words were never said by anyone since St. Francis of Assisi.
It's much like paying for a Mercedes and getting a Mitsubishi.

And so it is with those who delve into areas unknown,
When crops and livestock never become fully grown.
Life and Mother Nature have a way to put them back in their place.
If only they were smart enough to realize when they fall flat on their face.

People who leave the city for a rural life,
Are like the priest who takes a wife,
Or like a butcher without a knife,
Like Las Vegas without the nightlife.

Out of their area of expertise to say the least,
Running wild like a dog unleashed,
Never hearing the words that were preached,
Doomed to fail and fall prey to the beast.



© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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BRANDED WOMEN 

Cowboys like brands
Like beaches like sand
Like a groupie likes her band
Like a desperado likes the badlands

A cowboy needs a brand of his own
Like a dog needs a good bone
Like a king needs a throne
Like a teenager needs a phone

A cowboy's brand must be unique
Like the snowcapped crest on Pike's Peak
Like the justice the judge seeks
Like the Lord's words when he speaks

Cowboys know to use their brands on their cows
Or on their chaps and tack somehow
Or on the sign above the ranch gate now
But never on a dad-blamed hausfrau

Some call 'em tats
For those who might be a bit daft
Others call 'em brands for dingbats
For those with no moral format

Brands are made for a single reason
To be used as needed in the branding season
Wrongful use is cowboy treason
Which is why a branded woman is none too pleasin'


© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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PREYING PRIESTS

Preying priests are the least.
The lowest form of humanity.
Nurturing trust in youth to be released,
When the Devil displays insanity

What they do is unforgivable,
Turning truth into fantasy,
Making life unlivable.
Committing undeniable blasphemy.

Trusting the care of a child to a devil's disciple,
Is more sinful than a school shooting.
Allowing one who is completely gullible
To fend off pediphiles recruiting

Only two outcomes are visible,
Therapy for life or suicide forever.
Priests who prey are criminal,
Like Satan, they belong in the nether.

But the worst of the whole damn lot,
Guilty by deed and complicity,
Are the priests at the top,
Hiding offenders away to avoid publicity.



© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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CORPORATE PANHANDLING

Thousands, if not millions, of dollars every day
Are collected by corporate giants using your money to play
It's a simple concept they call "Rounding Up"
But it's not like the Old West cattle roundup

It's a scheme to where they get you do donate your extra change
From a purchase - like takin' your neigbor's cattle off his range
It seems harmless enough on the surface to just give a few crowns
Until you realize all those "Round Ups"  multiply and compound

The game they play is a dodge called corporate "Tax Break"
It's where they pay less than they owe due to a lower tax rate
Remember it's not the customers who reap the rewards
But rather, it's the Billionaire corporate lords

Corporate training now is universal all across the board
Cashiers and self-scan computers all want to hoard
Give 'em your left-over change at every place you shop
But, drive by a homeless man with a sign and don't even stop

The charity your extra coins may assist is not what you think
It's the corporate board and stockholders, the "Round-up Group, Inc."
It's a lot more than just a passing fad when it changes our culture
It's a dirty trick from the "Dirty Trick" squad of vultures

So, just say "NO" when you go to the store and are asked the question
If you're shy and feel a bit sheepish, just wear your big tall stetson
Don't be bullied or duped into thinking it's something you gotta do
Stand firm, hold your ground. Cause 'em to pay the taxes that are due



© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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TRUTH AND TIME

The thing about truth is that it may not be constant
We take for granted that what was will be again
The sun came up in the east this morning
And we expect that to be true until the end

However, that logic is unsound in every case
Once upon a time, the Russians were on our side
Truth can be a fickle master if we're not careful
Now we look high and low for Russian spies

The Internet is full of old truths that don't hold
There are no housekeeping rules to clean out the crap
No way to differentiate between current and old
And no way to turn off the tap

There is always the case where it was never true to start
Supposed facts are posted as true, when not
Because it's a form of writing, we take it as gospel
Duped by our own ignorance and blind spot

I called a number and asked for John
"John hasn't had this number for ten years or more"
The problem was an old phone book I used
The Internet is the same. We're losing the battle in the information war

When there are no rules, anything goes
Like a football game with receivers on motorcycles
Whatever you want, no one will stop you
No Internet police, no overlord, no Saint Michael



© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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BOB, THE CIGAR GUY




Oh, that smell that wafts through the air
Some liked to choke but I didn't care
Like an indentifying fingerprint
It told us Uncle Bob had been there

Cigar smoke of a certain brand
Find 'em at every newsstand
It wasn't a flower or a spice scent
The kind most didn't understand

Smoke 'em everywhere, the house, the car, the park
You could always see him in the dark
He'd light up anytime, anywhere
     Bob's cigars were his trademark




© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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EVERYONE WANTS MONEY

Seems no one wants to work for wages
All want to be fed like animals in cages
Everywhere I go, someone has their hand out
It's a culture now. Panhandling is what it's all about

The unwashed guy with the cardboard sign on the street
Is he really a Vietnam Vet or is it pure deceit
If he really needs help, why is he not at Social Services?
The problem is, we don't know what his real purpose is

Is he living in subsidized housing faking homelessness?
Preying upon society's collective consciousness?
Cardboard signs are a changing fad, like having a pet
"Will Work for food" has been updated to "Homeless Vet"

Next in line for your cash is every retail store in the land
Even the automated cash registers that are unmanned
Every one of them wants you to donate your extra cash
So they can claim the rewards at tax time — balderdash

Oh, but let's not forget public broadcasters on the air
At least twice a year they grovel for you to care
Send your pledge in any amount for the entire year
Cajole, coerce, browbeat, needle, and yes, even fear

Even the food servers get upset when tips are humble
Biting the hand that feeds them while they grumble
Does anyone ever want to make it on their own?
Do we always have to listen to the beggars moan?



© 2025 / Brian McNeal



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