Of Boots and Bores - Guest post by Blue Orchid

Thank you  Blue Orchid of Texas for this guest post. If you have craving for some humor and twisted take on mundane things, please check out his blog.  It is wild alright and lot of spice and humor, be careful Texas -  Land of NASA , Land of Bush, Land of Horses and lot of yeaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaas
The land where you can buy 1 beer and get 2 guns and 4 boobs or boob enhancements free as long as you wear boots and hat, Blue Orchid gives you this post peppered lot with sarcasm and Texas humor. Welcome to Dixie!
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Writer’s forward: The etymology of the term; bore, especially as it is applied to human beings has faded from usage in today’s culture. I’m not sure whether that is because we are running low on our supply of bores or today they are so populous as to no longer merit any serious mention. Nevertheless, the term once implied that someone was being obnoxious, annoying, pushy, loud, unruly or perhaps relentless in just going on about themselves. Thus the boring might not be so much as having nothing to do with yourself as having nothing to do but try and escape from a particular jackass. Of course to be a boorish person would be to live in the way of the jackass. Naturally, this is not to be confused with the way of the curmudgeon – which is my own charm and gift for our culture. The bore being one who entertains himself at your expense while someone like me entertains you at my own damn expense. Feeling better? Then on with the show.

Having lived in almost as many cities and towns in the United States as my age – and that’s a lot of them, I have come to appreciate a peculiar cultural oddity involving Texans and their bores. But before I get to our Texan bores, let me say that I have seen a plenty of them coming from all directions and locales on this planet. I’ve met them at dinner parties in Washington D.C., gone sailing with them in the Chesapeake Bay, been trapped with them at a conference in New England, couldn’t shake them off in a bar in Mexico and been cornered by them in a hotel lobby in New York City. Still, regardless of the place they call home, they tend to all share the same endearing quality that while believing that they are just being social and friendly, they’re actually about as welcome in your personal space as a nasty case of the flu.

So if bores are bores, then what could be different about good old Texas bores? Well, I’m glad you asked. You see, in Texas there is most definitely a unique way of looking at life and the odd cultural lens of most Texans see the bore in a different light than most of the rest of the world. I’ll clarify that to say that if you are a native of Texas or otherwise thoroughly ensconced in the culture of this land then you will know what I mean. It often happens that some folks will come here and enjoy the friendliness of the place but the rest of the Texas package is just too overwhelming for them so they either live hunkered down or bail out of here as soon as they can. They say Texas is no place for amateurs and you better believe it. So, what is the difference between say a New York state bore and a Lone Star state bore? I believe that it could be summed up in a couple of key characteristics. Let’s just call them verve and nerve. Nice and pithy you say? Right, well the Blue Orchid of Texas is just that sort of fellow. And I’d add that being a fifth-generation whose Great Granddaddy was a rancher who drove cattle up the old Chisholm Trail in the 1890’s, I know my Lone Star landscape mi amigo.

Verve? Your average bore in most of the other states of this delightful Union will usually make a fairly decent attempt to fit in. Now the exception would be if we are looking at someone with a mental health issue but then that changes the bore status from being one who ought to know better than to drive you batty to one who is unable to do anything other than drive you batty due to the fact that they’re simply a lunatic doing what lunatics do best. This might be an observable phenomenon in terms of dress as your average bore will often have decent oral hygiene practices, comb their locks and wear snappy looking khakis or skirts while the mental health challenged may be chewing on bits of an air conditioner filter, sporting a whack job hairdo and wearing a girdle and lawn and leaf garbage bag for a top. They tend to stand out in a crowd, unless of course they are living in an area that expects one to dress as though they just shook hands with a tornado. But in Texas, the sane but boorish person takes their personal package to a whole new level of game. It’s verve all right – it’s a verve on crack cocaine.

It was a couple of months ago and I was attending a black tie dinner event in Central Texas. Shoes were shined to a high gloss, bow tie at correct angle and my cummerbund was snug against my steely tight abdomen. Like James Bond only not packing and minus the supermodel on my arm. Still the martini in my grasp did the job in a pinch. In the middle of two hundred people in tuxedos and lovely evening dresses, he stood out like a longhorn steer in the middle of a pasture of goats. His salt and pepper crown was adorned with a black cowboy hat, while he wore a tuxedo jacket with a Lone Star state emblem cummerbund. His belt buckle was yelling all rodeo while holding those blue jeans secure on his ample frame. The well worn Texas cowboy boots completed the wardrobe storm nicely. Tanned and sporting a fearlessly large handlebar mustache, he grinned under that cowboy hat like a mad hatter at the Queen’s ball. In one hand he held a bourbon and in the other a small electronic device – like a psycho toy with batteries – that would make noises ranging from applause to flatulence with the press of a button. His fingers knew their way around the buttons on the small plastic box so that he could very adeptly cheer you or fart at you with great speed and cunning. On either side of him where two sexy older gals dressed impeccably in their long evening dresses and heels. What? Wait! How does a guy like that get to have his own harem while my own hands are only wrapped around the hips of a martini glass? One word: nerve.

Texas bores don’t just have nerve themselves, they engender it, caress it and grow it in the fertile soil of other Texan’s mojo. If it’s loud, colorful and goes stomping around in cowboy boots and big hair then Texans are going to draw near to it and start a sing-along. I have personally witnessed men do things in Texas that would have earned them a drink thrown in their face in the South but only get them a giggle and playful slap on their chest here - the kind of slap that communicates that they think that you’re a nut and they really like it. Let me stop here and say that if you are going to be a Texas bore then you had better be genuine about it because real Texans can sense it in a minute if you are not valid about being a true blue whack job. I recall some years ago being at a party in San Antonio and a dude who just moved here from the Northeastern part of these United States making crack about my rather worn jeans and boots. He was dressed quite prettily in his sports coat and snappy little deck shoes. Perhaps I was a little blunt with him when I swallowed my mouthful of margarita and then with a big grin and a low but firm voice told him that if I needed “any goddamn fashion advice, I’d be sure and look him up”. Let’s just say that didn’t go over well with him but he was a good sport about it and I didn’t have to kick his ass either that night.

It would be fair to say that Texan’s love our bores. You know it’s just not enough to just simply be a cow around these parts. Hell no, our cows have to have a twelve foot long spread of horns that can easily be used to gore a human or throw a coyote fifteen feet into the air. The nerve of it is two-way because you have to have the nerve to pull off being a brazen jackass well and then the nerve of your audience will rise to the occasion and celebrate your boldness. Say what you will but both sexes down here have a deep fondness for those who live life outside the lines. And honestly if you have to be a bore then please do it with some style. Here, let me buy you a drink and then we can dance on the tables and shoot out the lights together. Bor-ing here we come! Yeeehaaaaaaaaaaaa!
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Yeehaaaa - Blue Orchid. Thank you for the guest post.

What a treat right? I wish I was good in drawing, picturing every single narration in my mind made me laugh so hard.