Cowboy Rump Wranglers

Country music is popular, and I can’t disagree with anyone for enjoying the way something sounds. In fact I want to come out right away and say that old cowboy movies do hold a special place in my heart, like a beer flavored nipple. I will also agree that the persona of a real cowboy is respectable. When I think of John Wayne, or Clint Eastwood portraying the quiet, rugged, tough and humble character, it’s a rough sounding guy. These are not the cowboy attributes that exist today. There are old timers around who actually seem like cowboys or ,pray tell, worked in some fashion as a cowboy at some point in their life. I don’t have any beef with these guys either. The people that I find ridiculously stupid are the city type who idolize Tim McGraw, Toby Kieth, etc… They were born and raised in urban areas, never worked an agricultural position in their whole lives, would piss their pants if someone pointed a pistol at them, and generally don’t know anything about real cowboys. These urban poser cowboys are roughly the equivalent of the those disco people back in the 70’s who would wear the pastel westernish outfits. Another way to describe them would be a flamboyant metro sexual manifesting itself with a western fashion accent. I’m not a huge country music fan. I like Garth Brooks, thats about it. Every now and again while channel surfing I see a clip of CMT or an awards show. I always notice how well plucked, manicured, styled, and pampered looking our male country stars appear. I am certain that their shirts alone are probably thousand dollar pieces of armani or versaci rag that were custom tailored just for the night. (Very Tough Sounding) If you ever listen to the lyrics of new country music it’s weird and gay as fuck in many instances. In fact McGraw speaks volumes in his song entitled, “Don’t take the Girl.” I assume he’s a bald homosexual with a decoy wife to cover up his anal oral reach around desires. What needs to be created is a popular social opinion that separates our urban rump wrangler cowboys from anything masculine. If they will admit that playing western dress up and singing along to the sensitive stylings of Kenny Chesney is pretty gay, I will be satisified. Half of them just do it to impress our fake cowgirl wanna be sexually desperate mediocres. Nothing wrong with trying to snag girls or no pride nights, just sayin you can make yourself look like an idiot while doing it. Kenny Chesney is probably the epitomy of how non masculine and sexuality wavering today’s cowboy scene has become. Which is why I will give you this…

Kenny Chesney birth till now.

Kennith Arnold Chesney, born in the city of Knoxville, was child to a hairdresser and an elementary school teacher. He quit playing guitar in his youth because it hurted his poor fingees. (Already demonstrating the rough upbringing of a western star) He didn’t get enough attention during his youth. When the guitar had proved to vicious of a beast to tame, he decided to be a tiny 2nd string receiver on his high school football team. (I’m sure that was tough for him, I will give props) (Having all the big boys pick on him probably wasn’t easy) He then became a frat boy at East Tennessee State. With his hands growing tougher from all the demeaning acts he was forced to commit during initiation to his frat he decided to give the geee tar another try. It was painful, but several finger tip implants later he could handle it. His early western career began with him sitting in dorm rooms stumbling over Boy George songs attempting to woo the male members of the campus GLBTA club into his lofted bed. His first real break came when joined the mechanical band at Chucky Cheese. This gig lasted until local authorities got word from his robotic band mates that he wasn’t allowed within 200 feet of children. Kennith (as he has always stongly preferred) was dragged out of the Chucky Cheese establishment by the mothers of a local girl scout troop. While being removed he continuously screamed at the children and his robotic band, “You used to be about the music.” Kennith went into his dark days where the only thing he wanted to do was dance with Ross Jahnke to, Everybody Dance Now. After a several hour dance jam with Ross, Kennith got jealous of the normal sized calves of other men. He sold himself to the traffic of the local Honky Tonks to save up money for chest and calf implants. He succeeded, while having the west beat in and out of him for months. Armed with a a fake body he decided to start writing music about a fake life he never lived. The rest was history, the music business can be good for someone who is willing to do what it takes. Everything was shiny gold for him until that gossipy Renee Zellwegger almost leaked that their marriage was a multimillion dollar cover up deal, to hide the fact that Kenny was in love with Zach Efron. Luckily the legions of country posers turned a blind eye to this, since it would force them to admit a lot of things about their own lives. Kennith continues to hide his bald head under beanies and cowboy hats and is now a country immortal. He is severely afraid of horses and women due to an accident involving numerous deep tissue bites from all parties involved. This is our metro country music scene today.

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3 thoughts on “Cowboy Rump Wranglers

  1. Only thing Garth Brooks rides is a bus. There’s probably no bigger doughnut puncher in the top 40 country[?] bubble gum scene than GB excepting of course Toby Kieth and Tim McGraw. Chesney.

    Real Country went underground after that old horrible Travolta movie came out, the one with the mechanical bull, and now rests safely in the hands of the neo outlaws i.e. Steve Earle, Joe Ely, Jerry Jeff Walker, Guy Clark, Townes Van Zandt, Tom Russell to name a few.

    • wachmonster says:

      I agree completely, I only like Brooks because my elementary teachers played it in our classrooms during art time in the mid 90’s. I actually know the words to some of the songs because of it. It’s the only time during a country song, when I’m in a car with people that would castrate them selves for one of those flimsy straw hats and a free trip to We Fest I can sing along. As for what GB is riding these days… I think he is now posing as an artist named Adam Lambert, but I’m not sure. The only way to tell is a small tat on his unmentionables. He also possibly has an accountant who figures that one “comeback” every so many years equals the same dinero as working hard for many years in a row.

      • I had a teacher play brooks for the class as well, 7th grade, the one about Standing Outside The Fire or something. I guess she believed it was the motivational pep song of the decade. In retro, I don’t think I gained much from it. Guess I stood outside the fire too long.

        If she wanted to teach me something useful it would be to stay out of the country bars as there is always going to be some drugstore Tim McGraw look-alike that wants to wait for me outside in the parking lot with his buddies [Toby and Kenny]. Cowboy Rump Wranglers Indeed!

        Unless you happen to love Tim McGraw, look like Tim McGraw and/or are Tim McGraw it’s best to stay out of these places as it is very hard to escape the man. They have life-size anatomically correct posters, beer advertisements and neon signs [fuck sakes] all in his likeness. All electric Red and Blue complete with bad gene pool handlebar mustachio.

        Adam Lambert, you funny shit. As for a comeback I’m waiting for the GB leaked auto-erotic sex tape, celebrity rehab, schizo-suicide attempt. There’s no such thing as bad press I’m told and I type on.

        These guys make millions while real art goes largely unnoticed, WTF America.

        I guess I’ll have to get me one of those black spray painted straw hats and a diesel pick-up to ‘black smoke cloud’ anyone behind me at the stop light to compensate my blue dog gone missing, the trailer my ex took in the annulment hearing, my boozy step dad and minuscule tackle. Don’t it make my brown eyes well…brown.

        I dig your article, don’t be a stranger.

        blood on your saddle.

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