High Altitude Hell, part 8: Prude Ranch and the anti-LMNO

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Most of you know LMNO.  He's that Big Gay Cowboy that rides the plains, serenading his wife by playing the drum solo to I want Candy.  It's always Saturday Night™, and if you can't dance for shit, he isn't concerned.  The Lady don't mind.  And before the end of each episode, he deals with the banditos and great white sharks, his sequin shirt glittering as he smiles and deals death though his pearl-handled revolvers.

But that's in Montana.  Things are reasonable sane there...Unlike, say, West Texas.  For in West Texas, among other things, dwells the anti-LMNO.  He's the mean cattle rancher from the Prude Ranch, out to shut down those lousy sodbusters.  The anti-LMNO is that greatest of sinners:  A man who can dance, but won't.  He is Stop That.  He is Get Back to Work.  He is We Need You in For a Full Day This Saturday or don't bother coming in on Monday.

He worries about Gay folks doing their thing, and whom is in which bathroom.  He does not approve of Saturday Night™.  It's frivolous, and causes people to stop thinking about important things:  Patriotism.  God.  Mom & Apple Pie.  If he knew Bearforce1 existed, he'd have them all killed.  He is unsure if Conway Twitty is dangerous to our youth, and doesn't believe in taking chances.

So what DOES the anti-LMNO do?  Why, he externalizes his core competencies.  By which I mean, he raises cattle and sends them off to be slaughtered.  This is, after all, why ranches exist.  It is their purpose, their function.  Everything else is a distraction and should be avoided, though if the hands are feeling very bored, he might allow one of them to play the harmonica at night.  As long as that person doesn't know how to actually play it well.  Or at all.

They are Team Weak Coffee, and if they wanted music, they'd buy an iPod.

Legend has it that the two LMNOs will one day meet.  What happens then is anyone's guess.  They might mutually annihilate like matter and antimatter.  They might fight to the death.  The might have one of those horribly dangerous and destructive Charleston dance-offs.  Nobody knows. 

And if you think about it, none of the possibilities matter.  If you jump off of a cliff, is it worse to land on jagged rocks, or worse to land in molten lava?  It doesn't matter, because dude, you just jumped off of a cliff.

Or Kill Me.

[LMNO]

This post has been...

[Cainad (dec.)]

We all knew he had to exist somewhere. Where else but Texas?

See, New England is crowded to the gills with weirdos and prudes alike. It is an environment in which the LMNO thrives. The perversity of the universe flows freely here and the LMNO can flow comfortably with its current.

But the anti-LMNO lives in a place where The Desert is King, and humans are but its tiny treasonous subjects who try to scream louder than the hot wind. They scream with their fireworks and flags and talk radio, and sometimes they fire bullets into the vast emptiness just to remind it they exist. It is here that the anti-LMNO must exist, because here he must scream and scream and scream into the void so that it will KNOW that we don't take kindly to your kind around here.

[Cain]

Prude Ranch.  Just....no.  No.