In the interest of debunking the theories of the liberal media we sent out Fox News reporter Ace Donahue to speak with Graham Williams, one of the few remaining people alive who claims to have seen and actually interacted with a legendary dannye. Mr. Williams, who goes by the nickname "Codger", is a former soldier of World War II and was a ranch hand in New Mexico in his youth. Although Mr. Williams claims that he was a dannye wrangler during the "good old days" we must point out that he currently resides in the Tahoma Mental Institute for the terminally liberal.

 

Interviewer: So what can you tell me about the dannyes of the prairie days?

Codger: (Coughs) Well, they ran wild over the southwest in those days. Cantankerous little bastards. We'd rope 'em in and corral them at night. They were vicious... damn things, well, the older ones.

Interviewer: So, you actually saw them?

Codger: Saw them! Holy hell, they were everywhere! When I first laid eyes on them I thought we were going to get ambushed. Needless to say I was relieved when all they did was get together and complain a lot about broken windows and spelling.

Interviewer: So they were sticklers for detail then?

Codger: Yep, you could say that. Sometimes they'd sit up late at night correcting the capitalization in the travel logs, or ripping out pages of The Kinsey Report saying, "is this really relevant?" I can't tell you how many times I woke up at three am hearing them arguing over figures: "one to four percent! Not Ten! God Damn it, why can't Edward R. Murrow get anything right?" Every night it was the same damn thing.

Interviewer: So they had a specific routine.

Codger: I'm not sure you'd call it a routine. They were set in their ways, that's for sure. The older ones had a strong aversion to pastel hues and affectionate cowboys.

Inverviewer: So the older ones were more difficult to handle.

Codger: Yep. When a dannye is young they get along with the others, are usually much more mellow. They loved the pipe. Hell, they'd smoke anything that would burn - particularly the neighbors. As they got older one or two would come back from the cool prairie nights all beat up and bloody, swore off long hair and democrats forever.

Interviewer: Democrats?

Codger: Oh hell, ya… the only thing the older ones hated worse that democrats were angst-ridden cowboys trying to win them over with trite poetry. Just imagine the nights, thousands of 'em out there arguing on the best way to handle the intransigent and the proper usage of the word 'whom'.

Interviewer: So, at the time there were thousands?

Codger: Yep, several thousand by my reckoning. You could find them from the east coast to the west. In fact, I spotted one in New Orleans just around the turn of the century… ugly little thing tho. I think that one got beat up a lot. He turned republican faster than Ronald Reagan.

Interviewer: What happened to them all?

Codger: Hard to say really. Personally, I traveled with one for several years before I clubbed him to death with a bong. The last thing he said was "be careful out there". I don't know about you, but it just gave me the willies

Interviewer: Wasn't killing him a little harsh?

Codger: I suppose. But you know, you can only listen to Better Than Ezra so many times before you have to act. One night couldn't get that damn WWOZ out of my head and knew that it was either him or me. Plus, he kept complaining whenever I put on Jeff Buckley, Grace- said it was the worst shit he'd ever heard. It was interesting though. The young ‘uns would be happy and cheerful, they were pretty free spirits. As they grew older they gave up the pipe and started voting for Nixon. You could always tell when one was going through "the change", as we used to call it, because they began to hate the color pink and started complaining when someone invaded their personal space. I tell ya, as soon as I heard the words "that cowboy better stop looking at me or I'm going to bust his ass" I loaded up the shotgun. You couldn't take too many chances in those days.

Interviewer: That might explain their virtual extinction in these modern times.

Codger: True. I also hear a lot of them were killed trying to explain merging to unwary female drivers - these were either hit by oncoming cars or just shot by the surprised and frightened. I hear that a small group just exploded out of frustration while sitting in traffic.

Interviewer: So they didn't have a lot of patience.

Codger: Not much at all. They were even too impatient to let turtles cross the road themselves. Would get out of the damn cars and move them to the other side just so they wouldn't have to watch them clop… clop… along- then some semi or car would just plow them both down. I think traffic was really their big downfall… traffic and women.

Interviewer: Actually, the turtle moving sounds rather nice. Maybe they were just soft hearted.

Codger: (Thinks in silence for a moment) Nah. Just control freaks.

Interviewer: Any more ideas why they're gone?

Codger: Well, they were good eating... they were a little stringy, but made a good soup. You didn't want to let them get too old tho, once they got past the age of thirty they'd get bitter tasting and try to take over the herd. Contradicting the corral master's orders, changing the wording on our street signs, hell they even tried to rewrite the whole wrangling code to delete all of the clichés. I think their motivation was a deep seated hated of sincere cowboy poetry.

Interviewer: As a wrangler, are there any warnings one can give to any who might come across an older dannye? Something that might protect them from their "coming of age"?

Codger: (smiles) Well, I'd say the best thing would be to poke him in the eye. They just hate that. At this point, though, the threat is usually good enough. (holds up his finger) just do that. (nods) Works every time.

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