Cowboys Don’t Keto – El Defensor Chieftain
I called someone last week. It wasn’t the first time, and I still feel pretty funny about it, but it seemed to be generally accepted by the other person without incident.
Granted, I’ve always hesitated to address my male friends with that term, but apparently it’s slowly creeping into my lexicon. Maybe it’s an unconscious desire to look young and hip like I’m really okay with it, man… uh… I mean man. I still feel embarrassed using it like someone is on top of me, thinking I’m just an old man doing bad things.
Looking back, I used to think of a guy as something like a well-dressed city dweller who comes out of the west in search of adventure but knew nothing about customs let alone know about cows. , horses or the appropriate vernacular. In old film westerns, the character of Gary Cooper or Joel McCrae showed him the tricks of the trade, with great sorrow. Or be nicknamed Pilgrim, to quote John Wayne in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.
Even today, we see dudes settling into the wilderness of a Socorro or Catron County ranchette to retire to the “real west” and are so shocked when they discover that many of the intricacies they rely on are not part of the “real west,” and there really are bears, pumas and wolves outside the door.
You can sometimes spot them by the way they are dressed. I can imagine them in huge Hoot Gibson hats and wearing leggings over their Calvin Klein jeans. Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch, and I really don’t want to make fun of people who appreciate what we have here. But please, the Wranglers will do, and you don’t have to invest a small fortune in the Man’s Hat Shop to find a decent cowboy hat. I guess they have some really good ones there, but I’m still happy with the one I bought at old Brownbilt 20 years ago.
And that’s where the “dude ranch” comes in.
About five or six years ago, I met a nice couple from northern New Mexico who moved from a place in northern New Mexico and created one. It’s called Concho Hills Guest Ranch, and it’s nestled at the southern end of the San Agustin Plains, on the edge of the San Mateo mountain range.
Based on the past five or six years, it looks like they’re doing well. I would be looking for a few days of riding, lassoing, shooting and jawbone. And to top each day off, an old-fashioned ranch supper of steak and beans, which means leaving your keto diet in the hands of the cattle. Bring the beef!
Plus, no pesky cell service or wi-fi, just a good old-fashioned landline.
I was talking with someone the other day about when making a phone call meant you actually had to sit by the phone. Unless you have a long, curly cord, of course. The phone was black and heavy and wasn’t going anywhere, so the worry of losing your phone was non-existent.
The small town I grew up in had a telephone exchange manned by a row of ladies seated at switchboards who said “number please” when you pick up the handset. The receiver, here is a term which is completely out of our vocabulary.
Back when my parents were young, a lot of people still used phones that looked like a candlestick and had a mouthpiece-like object that you would talk to with a receiver – there’s still a word – that was something. like an oversized headset attached to a lanyard. Simple, I guess, but effective.
Anyway, it goes back to the days before.
From what I can tell, the term “dude” replaces “man” in the vernacular for Millennials and Zs, so what used to be “hey man” is now “hey man”.
And there are, apparently, at least two ways to pronounce it: dood, or dewd, depending on who you’re talking to. There are also the variations, like dudette, and according to Jeff Lebowski, there is also His Dudeness, Duder or El Duderino (if you are not into brevity).
Here is something else. You can talk to a man or a woman, but guy is most often used for a man and is sometimes used interchangeably with “brother”.
But you better be careful who you call bro because bro infers a commonality with the other guy, and if used improperly he can punch you in the nose. This is what I learned on television.
It doesn’t matter what you call someone, really, because we’re all in the same boat, doing our best to – paraphrase Winston Churchill – stay calm and carry on.
Since it’s the first week of June, I would say the keeping cool part is the operational part of it.