An old cowboy dressed to kill with cowboy shirt, hat,
jeans, spurs and chaps went to a bar and ordered a
drink. As he sat there sipping his whiskey, a young lady
sat down next to him.
After she ordered her drink she turned to the cowboy and
asked him, "Are you a real cowboy?"
"Well, I have spent my whole life on the ranch herding
cows, breaking horses, mending fences... I guess I am,"
replied the cowboy.
After a short while he asked her what she was.
"I've never been on a ranch so I'm not a cowboy, but I
am a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women.
As soon as I get up in the morning I think of women,
when I eat, shower, watch TV, everything seems to make
me think of women," the young woman said.
A short while later she left and the cowboy ordered
another drink.
A couple sat down next to him and asked, "Are you a real
cowboy?"
"I always thought I was, but I just found out that I'm a
lesbian."
An Easterner has always dreamed of owning his own cattle ranch, and
finally made enough money to buy himself the spread of his dreams in
Wyoming.
"So what did you name the ranch?" asked his best friend when he flew
out to visit.
"We had a hell of a time," admitted the new cowboy. "Couldn't agree
on anything. We finally settled on the Double R Lazy L Triple
Horseshoe Bar-7 Lucky Diamond Ranch."
"Wow!" His friend was impressed. "So where are all the cows?"
"None of them survived the branding."
This young man in the Old West wanted to be the best gunfighter alive.
One night as he was sitting in a saloon, he spotted an old man who had
the reputation of being the greatest gunfighter in his day.
The young man walked up to the old man and told him his dream. The old
man looked him up and down and said "I have a suggestion that is sure to
help."
"Tell me, tell me," said the young man.
"Tie the bottom of your holster lower onto your leg."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"
"Definitely," said the old man. The young guy did what he was told and
drew his gun and shot the bow tie off he piano player.
"Wow, that really helped. Do you have any more suggestions?"
"Yeah, if you cut a notch in the top of your holster where the hammer
hits, the gun will come out smoother."
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"
"It sure will," said the old man.
The young guy did what he was told and drew his gun and shot a cufflink
off the piano player. "This is really helping me. Is there anything else
you can share with me?"
"One more thing," said the old man. "Get that can of axle grease over
there in the corner and rub it all over your gun."
The young fellow didn't hesitate but started putting the grease on the
gun.
"No, the whole gun, handle and everything." said the old man.
"Will that make me a better gunfighter?"
"No," said the old man, "But when Wyatt Earp gets done playing that
piano he's going to shove that gun up your ass, and it won't hurt as
much."
An eccentric billionaire wanted a mural painted on his library wall,
so he called an artist.
Describing what he wanted, the billionaire said, "I am a history buff,
and I would like your interpretation of the last thing that went
through Custer's mind before he died. I am going out of town on
business for a week, and when I return, I expect to see it completed."
Upon his return, the billionaire went to the library to examine the
finished work. To his surprise, he found a painting of a cow with a
halo. Surrounding this were hundreds of Indians in various sexual
positions.
Furious, he called the artist in. "What the hell is this?" screamed
the billionaire.
"Why, that's exactly what you asked for," said the artist smugly.
"No! I didn't ask for a mural of pornographic filth. I asked for an
interpretation of Custer's last thoughts!"
"And there you have it," said the artist. "I call it, 'Holy cow, look
at all those fucking Indians.'"
