A cowboy rides into town in the Wild West and shoots an artist.
The sheriff asks him, “Why did you do that?”
The cowboy says, “I thought he was going to draw.”
A lot of conflict in the Wild West could have been avoided if town planners had simply made their towns big enough for everyone.
A cowboy rode into town. He walked into a bar where the locals had a nasty habit of picking on strangers, cowboys included.
After he finished his drink, the cowboy went outside to discover his horse had been stolen. So, he went back into the bar, flipped his gun into the air, caught it above his head without looking and fired a shot into the ceiling.
He then angrily yelled, “Which one of you fools stole my horse?”
No one answered, so the cowboy yelled even more angrily, “Alright, I’m gonna have one more beer, and if my horse ain’t back outside by the time I finish, I’m gonna do what I did in Texas! And let me tell you I don’t want to have to do what I did in Texas!”
Some of the locals shifted nervously in their seats.
The cowboy had another beer and then walked outside. He found his horse tied to the post where he originally left it.
So, the cowboy saddled up and started to ride out of town. As he did so, the bartender walked out of the bar and asked him, “Say partner, before you go… what happened in Texas?”
The cowboy turned to him and said, “I had to walk home.”
A cowboy appeared before St Peter at the Pearly Gates.
“Have you ever done anything of particular merit?” St Peter asked.
“Well, I can think of one thing,” the cowboy offered.
“On a trip to the Big Horn Mountains out in Wyoming, I came upon a gang of bikers who were threatening a young woman. I told them to leave her alone, but they wouldn’t listen. So, I approached the largest and most tattooed biker and smacked him in the face, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring, and threw it on the ground. Then I yelled, ‘Now, back off or I’ll beat you all unconscious’.”
St Peter was impressed, “When did this happen?”
“Couple of minutes ago.”
A tough old cowboy from Texas one day told his granddaughter that if she wanted to live a long life, the secret was to sprinkle a pinch of gun powder on her oatmeal every morning.
The granddaughter did this religiously until the age of 103, when she died.
She left behind 14 children, 30 grandchildren, 45 great-grandchildren, 25 great-great-grandchildren, and a 40-foot hole where the crematorium used to be.
A big Texan stopped at a local restaurant following a day roaming around in Mexico.
While sipping his tequila, he noticed a sizzling, scrumptious looking platter with a small parade of enthusiastic trumpeters following it as it was served at the next table.
Not only did it look good, the smell was wonderful. He asked the waiter, “What is that you just served?”
The waiter replied, “Ah Senor, you have excellent taste! Those are called Cojones de Toro, bull’s testicles from the bull fight this morning. A delicacy!”
The cowboy said, “Wonderful! Bring me an order!”
The waiter replied, “I am so sorry, senor. There is only one serving per day because there is only one bull fight each morning. If you come early and place your order, we will be sure to save you this delicacy.”
The next morning, the cowboy returned and placed his order. That evening the delicacy was brought to his table followed by a somewhat less enthusiastic band of trumpeters.
After a few bites, inspecting his platter, he called to the waiter and said, “These are delicious, but they are much, much smaller than the ones I saw you serve yesterday.”
The waiter shrugged his shoulders sadly and replied, “Si, Senor. Sometimes the bull wins.”
A cowboy walks into a bar in Texas and orders three beers. He sits at the bar, drinking a sip out of each glass in turn.
This goes on for a few weeks till the bartender says, “You know beer goes flat after pouring – why don’t you just buy them one at a time?”
The cowboy replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Arizona, the other is in Colorado. When they left our home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So, I’m drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself.”
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom and leaves it there.
The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.
One day, he comes in and only orders two beers. All the regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss.”
The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs. “Oh, no, everybody’s just fine,” he explains, “It’s just that my wife made me quit drinking, but my brothers are always keen on a beer.”
If you enjoy our content, don’t keep it to yourself. Share our free eNews with your friends and encourage them to sign up.