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New Term: Buffalo Catcher September 15, 2009

Posted by Who? in 1356.

Gather round, for I have created a new term. It is the latest term created by yours truly. You may or may not recall- PAFR or people are fucking retarded (rhymes with laugher (yes I’m aware that laugher is not a word(and yes I’m aware of that it might not make sense to use a non-existent word as a frame of reference))). The new, and wildly improved, addition is buffalo catcher. As in “what a buffalo catcher”.

It is an American Indian term that stretches back to the earliest times and is strangely tied to the long lasting success of their culture and society. The story of its origins goes something like this…

Once upon a time in an undiscovered land far, far away… Well it wasn’t actually that far and it was already occupied, but that is neither here nor there. (Back in ’97 near Sumner Tapps Hwy just doesn’t have the same ring…)

The people of this land lived in relative peace and in harmony with nature- Eden, Shangri-la, Heaven on Earth. A veritable utopia filled with bountiful cornucopias, if I might be so bold. A good life indeud- food aplenty, no traffic, no shitty reality tv and…no (EDIT). Life was gooooo-ooood (said like Cousin Eddy from Christmas Vacation circa 1981.)

These “primitive” people flourished and thrived in a land that “only the bravest of pioneers could survive in”. But wait a tick young Billy might protest, how could they be pioneers if they just moved into an area that Native Americans had occupied for many moons(that means long ass time)? Doesn’t that make them more like over-active squatters? Thieves? Trespassers?

But little Billy needs to shut up because winners write history and we gave them casinos and let em fish with nets so shits kosher. Anyways, back to the story. Twas 1997, and like 126 days before Christmas, when Lewis and Clark first set out to cross “the Lake Tapps”- they came upon a tribe hunting buffalo just outside Sumner in the strangest of ways.

This region was once home to an egregiously large buffalo herd; the only remaining remnants of which are the two buffalo housed in their native habitat where the old putt putt place used to be by the pawn shop. Lewis and C-dizzle, as his friends called him, were amazed by the Indians and their society. They watched in awe as the entire tribe participated in the buffalo hunt. These two crackers had never witnessed the hunting technique being employed by the wild savages. Lewis was all like ” I do say old chap, this technique is strange and erotic. Shiver me timbers.” And Clark texted him back on myspace and was all like “ur a fag ttyl”.

Lewis, being the ever inquisitive bastard he was, approached the chief and asked him, “How it worked”. This worked to Lewis’s benefit as he unknowingly greeted the mighty chief with the traditional Indian greeting.

The gregarious chief proceeded to explain their gentle and subtle hunting technique. Members of the tribe would spread out and form a half circle around the herd. Then, upon a wild shriek from the hunt leader, everyone would begin making a greate (historically accurate spelling) and terrible sound while charging the herd and lighting fires. The half circle formation funneled the herd towards a cliff and,ultimately… (pause for effect) their death (organ music from Casio 8915 Electronic Keyboard- overspent and had to trim the budget). They walked to the edge of the cliff and spied upon the floor 1,000 feet below.

Lewis got scared, cuz he’s a fag, and Clark was like “jesus christ!”. And the chief laughed and was like ” Who?”

The chief continued, “Yah shitz (he said it with a z) pretty cool to watch a buffalo drop from a thousand foot cliff”. He lol’d.

The herd was fast approaching.

Just as Lewis stepped back from the precipice he stopped- was that a person running around at the bottom with something on his right hand. He strained to listen and swore he heard “I’m ready der da der”.

“Chief! Chief! There’s someone down there.” Lewis exclaimed with a lisp.

“Calm down fancy pants. (His pants were quite fancy and this was a compliment at the time) I know. He is supposed to be there.”

“What!? What do you mean? We’ve got to stop the herd.”

“How do you propose to do that Einstein? Just chillax, it is his time to fulfill his purpose.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He is a ri-tard. Like Rainman.”

“What? Are you high?”

“Yes. You’ve never seen Rainman? Movie with Cruise and Hoffman. I have the Laser Disc back at my teepee if you want to borrow it.” He turned, eager to display his vast wealth contained in his movie collection.

Dozens of buffalo hurdled over the cliff. Amongst the raucous and carnage, Lewis swore he heard again “I got it der da der! YEAY!!” just before the deadly rain of buffalo poured down. The rest of the herd diverted and headed along the cliff and headed for the Old Country Buffet (herd is now fat people). All that could be seen was a pile of dead buffalo and a baseball glove sticking out. (Author note: I realize that a baseball glove might be hard to distinguish from 1,000 feet above, but I’m driving this choo-choo train so just go with it or get out of the kitchen.)

Lewis dropped to the ground, wept and shouted at the Chief. “Why?” Clark was confused but more than that, he disappointed by his flaming friend, “Dude, seriously? I thought we said no crying”. But Clark knew with a name like Merriweather, you had to expect shit like this.

The Chief sighed and explained. “Your people, The White Bread, are always trying to deny the truths of Mother Earth. Stupid people will eff your society’s sauce and must be dealt with.   If ya know what I’m say-innnnn” Twisting his torso and arms while raising his left knee for emphasis on the last word.

Clark knew, but Lewis wasn’t listening. He sobbed and sang “Like a Candle in the Wind!” while playing an imaginary piano in the dirt.

Clark thought this was harsh but he slowly began to understand the method behind the madness.

The chief went on “Pimpin aint easy but someones got to crack a few eggs if you don’t want idiots fucking up society.”

Clark wanted to point out that the chief was mixing a couple saying that didn’t really fit. He quickly decided against it as he noticed the Chief’s intense, gel-free mohawk and battle hardened tomahawk on his belt next to his beeper. Some things never change and you just don’t correct a man sporting the “double-hawk” (couture in ’97) And besides he knew what the Chief was getting at.

Merriweather Francis Lewis wailed as he brought home the chorus and focused more now on the saxophone (still imaginary), “”YA CANDLE BURNED OUT LONG AGO (sniffle sob sniffle) (much quieter now) but your legend nevva wi-hillllllll”.

The Chief looked and at Lewis and shot a glance to Clark like “Is he serious?”. Clark rolled his eyes, shook his head dismissively and flopped his wrist out towards the Chief.

The Chief nodded. He motioned over the cliff with his thumb and raised his eyebrow as if to say “want to give him a push?”.

“I’m just Frank’n you, Clark.” (Historical note: Indians didn’t have anyone named Josh yet.) This again seemed confused but Clark didn’t say anything (see above: double-hawk rule).

Clark peered over the edge again. The bloody baseball glove seemed to stand out even though it was almost the same color. It was brutal, but like the  Chief had said, pimping truly was not handled with ease.

“I see what you’re saying Chief.”

“When in Rome.” Clark confused, but again, double-hawk.

“Let’s go smoke some grass and sacrifice some virgins,” the Chief suggested. Clark thought this was a dumb ass idea, not the grass part, but again, I really can’t stress this enough, double hawk.

As they walked back to the village, Clark asked “what’s with the guy wearing a baseball glove?”

The Chief chuckled as he picked at his teeth, “You know how retards love baseball. Buffy was all ‘tard in that regard. Hey! That rhymed.” Chief was proud of his sick flow but Clark didn’t seem impressed. Lewis is way the fuck back there and not really a part of the story anymore so it’s not really important if he heard or not.

“Buffy? Like from that shitty show on WB?”

“WB? No, who the fuck watches channel 22? It was his nickname. Everybody called him that.”

“No shit? Same channel for you guys too? Small world.  Clark paused, then said, “What was his name?”

The Chief replied, “He comes from a long line of his kind” Trying the rhyme thing again but this time wasn’t as good and Clark gave him no props. He continued…

“His name was Buffalo Catcher.”

-the end


Lewis and Clark circa 1997. Lewis, the one with the flaming ribbon on his gun, demonstrates his lack of hunting prowess.



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