Just found this little thing I wrote for the Forest Café’s wicked little photocopied zine in Edinburgh last year. Shame that place had to go… For the zine I had imagined a posse of black panther style cowboys rode into town, partly because I’d seen a film the week before called Boss Nigger.
Lemme tell you a thing bout god damn cowboys man, Cowboys don”t need none of your muthafuckin advice, friendship, generosity, ideas, promises, simpa-fuckin-thy, or cows. none if it. We ain’t got it and we don’t want it. We out there, happy to roam, happy to clique up and spit on the ground. See anotha man comin who don’t know the code, he better put up or get out of the road. Yee-ah.
When we pulls up in a town like this on a day like this with its new folk, old ways and bold skies, we gets to thinkin. Deep thoughts that cloud a man’s eyes. Thinkin that makes a cowboy not mind the rain. Now, Cowboys don’t much mind people. By that I mean from townsfolk to city slickers, ain’t no love for nature among all them hungry mouths. And this town is full of those face-fillin muthafuckers.
My pardner spies a stage with some brats a-bawlin on it, ice-cream round their mouths. The sign in back reads “Virgin Money”. Lemme tell you a thing about muthafuckin money, man, ain’t no money ever been ‘Virgin’, all money ever did was fuck people, even a lil bitty twenny pee done fucked someone to get where he was, probably fucked some lil slot in exchange for some nuts. Yee-ah.
So as we watchin the sun escape from our hideout on the hill, saddlebags full of what we thought was wanted posters, faces full of deep-fried shit, pockets empty, we hears the sweet sound of prayer from the toothless old mouth of a Grand Opry haasbeen echoing round the rocks:
Got no money, got no yacht
Still I’m happy for what I got
I got the sun in the mornin
and the moon at night