You know how when you count something down, you and your partner need to be sure whether to go on "one" or "zero?" Well, at no time is that more important than when in a pistol duel.

People in the old days must have been really angry. Every confrontation, however innocuous, prompted a duel. Can you imagine living like that? I'd be pissed off, too, if I'd lived before cable TV. But I'd like to think I could get through the day without fighting to the death for something stupid like taking cuts in line at the bank.

"I beg your pardon. Did you cut in front of me?"

"On the contrary, dear sir. You cut in front of me."

"I'll not tolerate you insulting my honor. I propose a duel. We draw at 10 paces."

(Here's where reason would get the best of me)

"Uh, nah. That's alright. You go ahead. No, really, it's fine. I'm on my lunch hour, anyway. I've got plenty of time. In fact, here's some of my money. Just go fill out a depost slip. I'll wait."

Nowadays, we keep our duels respectable; we reserve them for the freeway, a la road rage. Idiot drivers notwithstanding, there's no reason to shoot anybody. What's the worst thing that could happen to you in the Old West? You step in some horse plop? Just shoot the horse and make some glue.

And why did all the cowboys carry two guns -- one in each holster? How many people do you plan to shoot that one gun isn't enough? I figure if you kill a couple of people, you ought to be done for the rest of the afternoon, anyway. Even if you have to double-tap 2 or 3 guys who poked fun at your 10-gallon hat, one gun will do. Trust me, when you're committing an act of vengance with a firearm, less is more.

People challenged duels for every the slightest offense. Basically, it's all about honor. If somebody insulted your honor, you had to challenge them to a duel. I'm glad we've renounced that tradition, because on a typical day, my honor gets insulted 10 times before noon. Between work, morning traffic, my family and the clerk with the attitude at the coffee shop, I don't have any honor left to kill for. On a really bad day, so many people hack away at my honor that I wish somebody would just go ahead and shoot me.

Hey, maybe I should challenge somebody to a duel after all!


Jack Mercer said...

Hi Bug!

Would like to invite you to the News Snipet Blog to weigh in on the Social Security issue.


Gil The Carnie said...

Ah, Bug’s Butt. You’ve resurrected ma’ honor wit yer’ witty, yet sarcastically bitter blog. I callin’ out DarthMoridin fer a Duel for callin’ me an old drunk guy. A carnie slap fight at 10 paces. Thank you Bug’s Butt fer inspirational words.

Wyatt Junker said...

In San Francisco, Polk Street to be precise, duels are still quite the go-to-method for resolving disputes. Except its done with their cocks and there really doesn't need to be any dispute at all.

I would be excellent at duels back in the day. I'd wait for the fucker to start walking, then I'd turn on pace 1, and blow the fucker away. Either that or I'd chase him down on pace 1, pistol whip him on the base of his cerebellum, then pants jack him and assrape him in front of the preacher, saloon owner and the banker.

darthmoridin said...

Gil, I'd gladly accept your challenge, but I have a firm policy about not fighting drunk seniors. I don't like it when they start crying.

Useful Idiots said...

Hah I remember the time a gal offered me her honor and I honered her offer and all that night it was honor and offer honor and offer.

Nettie said...

Because two guns look so much cooler than just one. I think it's a matter of balance.

You've Got What I Need... said...

What about a good old fashioned dance off? I rule at those. BAM!

Or, better yet, a sing off. It's like a circle jerk but to music.


sCruuw said...

I think American Idol is A pistol whipping for the entire world!

Jack Mercer said...

Reminds me of the New York lawyer whe went duck hunting in the deep South.

He arrives, sets up, and almost immediately up comes some ducks and wonder of wonders, he shoots and hits one. It falls on the other side of a fence, marked, "No Trespassing." "Hey," he figures, "Big deal, what're some hayside farmers gonna do to a big shot like me?" So he climbs over the fence and goes for the duck. A voice calls out he looks up and sees an old geezer on an even older tractor.

"What 'ya doin', boy?"

"Getting my duck," says the lawyer.

"No yer not, that there's my duck it landed on my propity soes its mine."

"Listen old man, you know who you're dealing with? I'm one of the biggest, baddest attorneys you ever saw I'll sue you and take everything you own."

"Tell 'ya what, Sonny. Let's take it to our little way of settlin' legal matters around these here parts, let's do it the 'Three Kick' rule."

"What's that, old man?"

"It's simple, I start by kickin' you three times, then it be your turn to kick me three times, last one standing wins."

"OK," says the lawyer, "give it your best shot."

The old farmer slowly climbs down from his tractor, takes aim, and swiftly kicks the lawyer right between the legs causing him to fall to his knees, then the farmer walks around and kicks him in the kidneys. The lawyer falls over and the farmer walks around again and kicks him in the head.

Slowly the lawyer gets to his feet, groaning, but mad as heck and ready to get even. But he sees the farmer sitting back on the tractor and calls out,

"Hey, old man, what about my turn?"

"Ah, that's okay, you can keep the duck"