Buster Saddlesore Finds Enlightenment
Published: June 15, 2022
Yet another tale from the files of the crusty Cowboy club in its seemingly endless promotion of: The Crusty Cowboys Ride Again!
Usually as quiet as the rust eating the subframe of your Barina, Buster Saddlesore recently claimed to have had an epiphany. Not that this is anything special; I had one too but the gears on the carburettor seized up.
Anyway, Buster claimed the epiphany came from the realisation that after spending decades as a drummer he’d never actually seen the front side of the people we was working with. In fact, when he meets them at a gig he doesn’t know who they are until they turn around face the other way. Buster said he has spent years looking at the backs of these people wondering what the fuck it is they were doing up the front. His epiphany told him that he must seek enlightenment — or at least try to find out what was going on up the front.
‘Not much,” I explained to him
“Aaaahhh! Well, matey. I think there must be something beyond that; gotta be,” Buster said, meaningfully, “… and I’m going to seek out a guru or a Llama on a mountain top to find out the truth, the meaning, the whatchamacallit of life. Im going to Tibet!”
You’ll lose,” I said.
Buster explained that Tibet wasn’t a TAB! Not a place Asians went ‘to bet’; that the Dalai Llama wasn’t a fukken hairy mountain-trashing animal – in fact, I discovered, he was bald! And Tibet was apparently bristling with Yogis and Gurus atop-a-mountain-tall waiting to give wealthy twats enlightenment. Not that Buster is money-wealthy; he is calmer-wealthy. Not Karma… calmer.
Have you any idea how hard it is to get to Tibet? It’s worse than going to Melbourne. And there’s fukken hills everywhere. And let me inform other seekers of self-knowledge, the road to enlightenment is long and not very well paved. The Himalayan council needs a kick up the arse or, at the very least, a MacPherson Report about the use of their ratepayers money.
And the hills are alive with the sound of Tibetan prayer wheels; every mountain has a monastery, every monastery a Llama or Guru. Sensibly, Buster hired a bunch of Sherpas to take him to the one that would rain enlightenment on him like a golden shower in a foreign movie.
So, after weeks of trudging, fighting his way through hordes of abdominal snowpersons, paying off the sherpas with bitcoin, Buster finally got to the right monastery.
“Where’s Yogi Bear?” he asked of some clown in an orange toga.
The man stared through him. “Where do you imagine he might be?” he said.
Buster looked around, down and up and saw, up at the summit, a dude in a red toga, looking across the mountains; staring across the valley to the other mountain.
“That’s the dude I want to have a chinwag with,” Buster said with satisfaction and re-commenced his ascent.
When he got up to the top he saw that the Yogi bloke was still sat there, statue-like, not moving. Just staring across the valley to another mountain top.
“Howdy, Matey, Mr Bear,” says Buster. “I have come seeking enlightenment. Can you tell me what I have to do?”
“Yes. you must get down low.” The Yogi replied.
“Ah, Righto. Bit of respect and all that; prostate yerselluf in front of the Guru, eh?” Buster explained mainly to himself. “On me knees, then; izzat ok, d’yer reckon?” … as he knelt down.
“Lower.”
“Eh? Oh, so me head’s gotta be lower than yours? I get it. Humble; real humble.” Buster dropped to the ground.
It was freezing. After a few minutes his dick went numb so Buster looked up at the Yogi and said: “Can I get up now? I already feel a bit enlightened.”
“I feel you are not yet aware. Do you know what day it is?”
“Not exactly, but I could check me diary….?”
“Don’t look in your diary; I don’t care what time it is in your world. I only ask if you know what day it is today – up here.”
A window opened in Buster’s head. “So… this is the start of the enlightenment thing – the old magical ‘Tibetan Time’ must have something to do with it.” As he thought about it he could feel it …. ‘Enlightenment’ was pouring over him like sump oil out of fukked Subaru.
“Gotcha….” Buster said, with an enigmatic smile. “So, Yogi … can you tell me what day it is … up here?”
“Yes. It is Tuesday …. up here.”
“Righty-ho! So… Tuesday … is a good day for getting enlightenment… up here?” Buster asked, getting up off the deck and looking the Yogi square in the eye to show that he was pretty fukken serious about his personal enlightenment campaign.
“I don’t know,” The Yogi said, and slowly raised his hand to point across the valley. “ But I do know that Tuesday is bath day in Tibet and you are blocking my view of the lady monks in that monastery on that mountain over there, taking their showers in a waterfall. Now get the fuk down!”
Anyhoo, come along and see and hear Buster Saddlesore whack the drums and stuff with The Crusty Cowboys at Diverse-City on Saturday July 2 for their cracking new but still a bit old yet slightly updated show: The Crusty Cowboys Ride Again!
At the Best Little Show House in the City!
Book here.moshtix.com.au/v2/event/t-crusty-cowboys-ride-again-/139846
Or use this thing:
