The fat cats are out and about. Pass the courvoisier. $600 bottles of wine at lunch.

Everyone here in cowboy land struts tall these days. Cigars and smokes are a plenty. It is very easy to spend a few extra bucks when you think you might be missing out on the good times. Strangely enough, 80's music is playing in the background.

The waitresses know better. They know this boom is something to ride. Their surfboards are their bodies. The boards are all the wannabe cowboys with their cellphones in their holsters. They don't ride the boards as much as they are walking all over them. The waitresses are sporting knee high boots and cleavage is evident and I don't mind. Why fight it? Why complain?

People don't tell jokes anymore though. They talk about the joke they received on email. The laughs are as booming. HA! They aren't as confident anymore. People are getting old and realizing that they might be missing out on something. It's too late for those people. They died years ago but their bodies are still here.

The boomers are dying and they will be buried with silver and gold in their mouths and large houses that will be empty. The weather is abnormal and the water tastes like the chemical spillage from the plant down the road. Let's inherit it all!

The cowboys are encouraged to drink and drink and speed in their new vehicles. At the same time, they tell war stories of how they were pulled over by the police for speeding or for drinking and driving. So much FREEDOM perceived! Enjoy these times. You want to be famous and the photo radar will take a picture of you speeding. Send the cheque to you right in the mail. Hang it up on the fridge and show all your friends. An A+ 'AAA' steak and I'll chew the fat and stay and sit around and chat. Of course.

I taste my first buffalo burger and it is not a moment to remember or forget. Do you want gravy, sir? As long as there is some juicy and steaming oil in it, ma'am.

But there isn't. It's in reserve. 79.9, 78.9, 77.9 - the '.9' fools us all.

So long, and thanks for all the cleavage.

somewhere in alberta