Paul Gauguine Goes All Buffalo Bill And Little bbb Mourns BB

 December 28, 2025

   Just finished a book on Colonel Greene the Tombstone Tycoon who built up a massive copper mine industry in Cananea, Mexico then died in an odd accident. Strange cat. But he is excellent stock for a character in my upcoming Border Trilogy.

Coming From Boze Studios

   Before the cultural explosion that ripped the region assunder, the borderlands along the Arizona-New Mexico line were rife with industry and exploration. A new hybrid of the cowboy was being formed on both sides of the line and the style would eventually conquer the world.

A Sonoran Vaquero In Sugarloaf Canyon

   What do we know about him? He has been away for a very long time, he is a wanted man. . .

He Plowed Through Dust, Headed for Home

Daily Whip Out:

"Home Is Where The Bridle Is"

   

BB & Little bbb Sittin' In A Tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

   Yes, I had a crush on her when I was 14.

Brigitte Bardot (1934-2025)

   It lasted until the eighties. Not the 1980s but when she was in her eighties and got so crazy with the bizarre political rants.

Paul Gauguin Goes All In On Buffalo Bill

   Vincent van Gogh's roommate in Arles attended the Buffalo Bill Wild West Congress & Rough Riders of The World show several times in Paris in 1889 and became so infatuated with the American showman and the Wild West, that Paul Gauguin bought a revolver,  a big ol' hat and—get this!—"yellow-high-heeled cowboy boots" and practiced shooting tin cans.

Daily Whip Out:

"The Buffalo Bill Hat Painter"

   All this is according to the author of Wild Child: A Life of Paul Gauguin by Sue Prideaux. She adds that Paul painted with the Buffalo Bill hat on for about a decade. 

   All I have to say about that is—Piker!

Going On My Fifth Decade Painting With Hat On

(Photo by Scott Baxter)

"I shut my eyes in order to see."

—Paul Gauguin

The Guess Girls & The Norsky Sock Queen

 December 27, 2025

   Thanks to Andy Sansom, here's a high school photo of my mother I have never seen before.

Bobbie Guess, Class of '39

Mohave County Union High School

   As you many know, my mother was the middle daughter of the five Guess girls, legendary cowgirls in the Kingman area. My mother was born in Lordsburg, New Mexico and here she is after landing at Tap Duncan's Diamond Bar Ranch in northern Mohave Country from the Duncan (no relation) area.

Bobbie On The Hood

   My Kathy got me two presents this year:  One hilarious and one hits me right where I live. The first involves a fave family story from when we lived in Iowa, before our final move to Arizona in 1956. On Christmas Eve, my dad drove us from Swea City to the family farm north of Thompson for a present exchange, then Santa came in the middle of the night and we opened those presents and then we went to Dina Madison's house in Thompson for a Christmas Day luncheon and gathering. Dina was my grandmother Minnie's sister. Dina was a teacher and on a tight budget so when we opened presents there, I got a pair of socks, "one for my birthday (Dec. 19) and one for Christmas." When anyone talks about the curse of being a Christmas baby, that is the story I always tell. This Christmas, Kathy had two separate packages under the tree in Issaquah, and yes, they were a pair of socks, one for my birthday and one for Christmas. And, yes, it was very funny and it should be noted our Deena is named for the Norsky sock Queen Dina Madison.

   The other present from Kathy, which I got for my birthday, is a book. . .

"There's nothing stronger than an unwritten book's fascination with its author."

—A. J. Hackwith, author of The Library of the Unwritten"

Cat On A Hot Tin Cave Creek Roof And Humor to Heal Our Damaged Social Fabric

 December 26, 2025

   Back from Issaquah and four days of great food, big love and lots of laughs. Last Tuesday we attended The Nutcracker in downtown Seattle. It was festive and fun. Hard to believe an opera that was first staged in 1892 is still relevant, but here we are, still showing up.

Space Needle over "The Nutcracker"

   Full Disclosure: the above photo was actually taken from the parking garage where we landed to go see The Nutcracker. I took it through the air vent inside the bridge tunnel entrance on the way back to the car.

   And, yes, at 133 years and counting, you might say the Nutcracker has legs. And, speaking of legs, I just found out the oldest cafe on the planet just turned 300. Yes, Casa Botin in downtown Madrid is still in business. What is their secret?

"Casa Botin is about traditional flavors. We have lasted this long because we have great respect for authenticity."

—Antonio Gonzales, co-owner of Casa Botin

   My favorite part of visiting with the grandkids is giving them support and encouragement on art projects and prying them with little tricks to make art more fun. We had some "fan-brush fun" and here is the proof in the pudding.

Frances Whip Out: "House In The Breeze"

   These same Issaquah kids want to get a cat and this prompted their mother remembering when she was growing up our cats in Cave Creek lived on the roof to avoid getting eaten by coyotes.       Unfortunately, Harris Hawks weren't thwarted by the tactic. Here is one of those long gone cats.

Cat On A Hot Tin Cave Creek Roof

  I found this photo I took of Kathy for her real estate business and if you look closely, you will see one of our cats on the roof of the pump house. 

   I am still on my quest to honor humor wherever I run into it. As I mentioned previously, I tipped the Pre-Flight shuttle driver at Sky Harbor for making a good joke about Seattle and just being overall zany. I wanted to tip the head stewardess on our flight home yesterday because she gave the funniest pre-takeoff instructions I have ever encountered ("Just pretend you are listening. . ."), but Southwest frowns on tipping so I just raved to her what a hoot she is when she brought me a drink (coffee), which she quipped she had added a little Bailey's to give it a little bite. She was joking, of course.

   And speaking of our damaged social fabric. . .

"This glorious, ragged old band, travelling the country, trying to sew our ripped social fabric together once more, one town at a time."

—Alex Abramovich, in the New Yorker, describing Willie Nelson and his band on the road in 2026

Life In The Laugh Lane

 December 23, 2025

   Spent most of Monday fighting our way to Issaquah, Washington. Snarling traffic and maximum humanity all the way. Decided to stop fighting the tide and reward everyone who still has a sense of humor in these trying times. The shuttle driver at Pre-Flight made a joke about us going to Seattle ("Why would you go there?") and it was just so zany, so I tipped him generously and said, "The extra tip is for being so funny in this current climate of Snarkiness. Our country needs you more than ever. Thank you for your humor, sir."

   Landed in Seattle at 11 and we were picked up by this zany crew:

Scenic lunch at The Water Table

   And, so the generous tips continued to anyone who made me laugh. It was a rather expensive day, but it was worth it. Anybody who can be humorous in this current world deserves something extra. That's my motto and I'm sticking to it for the rest of the holiday season.

"If honestly were suddenly introduced into American life, the whole system would collapse."

—George Carlin

A Penny for A Penny vs A Penny for Your Thoughts

 December 21, 2025

   It's the shortest day of the year and I'd like to say this post will emulate that with my own brevity, but, you know me—and Bruce ("they said sit down, I stood up. . .").

Coming Soon From Boze Studios

   West of Patagonia, there was no borderline , at least one you could see. The Rurales and the Rangers knew, of course, but even they had a hard time pinning down exactly where it was.

Daily Whip Out: 

"Rurales Crossing The San Pedro"

Adventures In The Gouache Zone

   I love doing gouache washes to see where it might take me. This morning I got a surprise when I was working on a potential dust storm and I felt something under my drawing table. I leaned back to see this visitor.

Tornado Head

In-din Humor

   Every time Floyd Red Crow Westerman was introduced to someone who claimed a Cherokee grandmother, he would turn them around and look at their butt and say, "I can usually tell by the high cheekbones."

A Penny for Your Thoughts

   When I was a much younger lad, whenever I saw a penny on the ground, I would pick it up, squeeze it and say one word, "Western," and pocket the penny. It was a ritual I followed for decades and I admit it was kind of superstitious and goofy, but personally it was a great way to center my thoughts and efforts and, to be honest, it was kind of effective. Today, I co-own True West magazine, I have authored 15 illustrated books on Western icons and I am a YouTube Western historian with a couple million views. So, goofy or not, it kind of worked for me in a Western kind of way.

   So, it was with great interest I read about a recent end of the penny. Some guy named Jarell Mique, was a co-producer of an event to mark the passing and he claims he was hired to "create a silly moment." He hired actors and comedians to dress up as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and the Lincolns to give remarks at the event. The faux Mary Todd Lincoln asked the audience if they had ever heard of the old "pick up a penny and you'll have good luck" thing. Many raised their hands, including myself. Then she added this: "The penny poured out all its good luck for us and saved none for itself. If only the penny could have picked up another penny for good luck. A penny for a penny."

   Now, that's rich.

"If we all do it and we don't wanna talk about it, it's funny, man."

—George Carlin

Uno Lying Down Comes Around, Sue Is still Waiting And Redneck Mother's Everywhere Are Still Seething

December 20, 2025
   Here's a favorite position of someone in our house.

Uno Lying Down

And here's what that looks like, in stone, on the side of Elephant Butte

Uno Lying Down In Stone

Yes, I am easily amused.

"Now, there's a story for the ages."

   Looking back on my movie deal in the early eighties, I realized a couple of things. One is, Hollywood bought the synopsis of Honkytonk Sue and what she stands for, not the story of Sue. And that has been a question mark that has hung over the property ever since. Columbia Pictures spent $150,000 trying to buy a story and they couldn't land it. They hired Larry McMurtry for God's sake, and he wrote three scripts with Leslie Marmon Silko and they couldn't get it to work. Of course, it didn't help that Goldie Hawn was calling the shots and when she said, regarding one of my synopsis of a possible story, "I don't think Indians are funny." And it was at that point I knew, this project is in trouble.
Speaking of story origination:


Up Against The Wall Red Neck Mother
   I had always assumed the mother referenced in the classic honkytonk song, was short for—mother trucker (that's not the actual swear but you knew that), so imagine my pleasant surprise when Texas Monthly tracked down the real reference:

"In the early seventies, Ray Wylie Hubbard lived in Dallas but spent his summers in Red River, New Mexico, playing music with other long-haired expats, like Texans B. W. Stevenson and Bob Livingston. There were only two places to buy beer in town, a hippie bar and a redneck bar, and one afternoon, when it was Hubbard’s turn to make a beer run, he decided to go to the redneck joint, the D-Bar-D, because it was closer.

"He regretted it immediately. 'I walked in and there were thirty or forty people drinking, including one old woman,' he recalls. 'The jukebox stopped and they all turned and looked at me.' He nervously asked the bartender for a case, and while he waited, he found himself getting baited by the woman and her son. 'How can you call yourself an American with hair like that?' she asked. Her son added, 'You want me to beat him up?' Hubbard got his beer and fled, but not before eyeing a pickup truck in the parking lot with a gun rack and a redneck bumper sticker. Once he was safely back with his pals, he picked up his guitar, strummed a G, and made up a song on the spot, about a redneck mother whose son was 'thirty-four and drinking in a honky-tonk, just kicking hippies’ asses and raising hell.'

"Hubbard eventually returned to Dallas and forgot about the song until a year later, when he got a call from Livingston, who was playing bass with Jerry Jeff Walker. Livingston had performed the song for Walker, who wanted to record it. But it needed another couple of verses. So, standing in his parents’ bedroom, phone to his ear, Hubbard once again made up some lines on the spot, about the pickup he’d seen in the parking lot, the gun rack, and a 'Goat ropers need love too' sticker.

"Walker included the song on his album ¡Viva Terlingua!, jump-starting Hubbard’s career. 'If I hadn’t gone into the D-Bar-D,' says Hubbard, 'that song never would have existed. It’s so strange that it all happened, still kind of a mystery.'”
—Texas Monthly

"He was born in Oklahoma
His wife's name's Betty Lou Thelma Liz
He's not responsible for what he's doing
'Cause his mother made him what he is

And it's up against the wall, Redneck Mother
Mother, who has raised her son so well
He's thirty four and drinking in a honky tonk
Just kicking hippies' asses and raising hell

Sure does like his Falstaff beer
He likes to chase it down with that Wild Turkey liquor
He drives a fifty seven GMC pickup truck
Got a gun rack, 'Goat roper needs love too' stickerM is for the mud flaps you give me for my pickup truck
O is for the oil I put on my hairT is for T-bird, H is for Haggard
E is for eggs and R is for Redneck

Up against the wall, Redneck Mother
Mother, who has raised her son so well
He's thirty four and drinkin' in a honky tonk
Kicking hippies' asses and raising hell"

—Ray Wilie Hubbard, Redneck Mother

Talkin' 'Bout My Generation

 December 19, 2025

   When I was an underclassman at the University of Arizona (1966-67) I was forced to take a ridiculous Physical Education class called Developmental Activities which involved, among other tortures, a graduating scale of squat thrusts and leg lifts, pull ups and sit ups each done in the corners of a practice football field, which we ran around, east of Bear Down Gym. Plus, the class was held at 7:40 a.m. on Saturday. On my way to this torture-fest, I remember walking along with a fellow classmate who remarked out of the blue, "I can't wait until our generation gets in power. All this bullshit will be solved." I remember thinking to myself, I wonder if that will be true? And, so, today, on my 79th birthday I decided to take stock of that question.

   For starters, we have had three presidents who are exactly my age, meaning three Boomer presidents who have taken a swing at all the BS we see today. In fact, the three Boomer Prezes were born in consecutive months: June, July & August of 1946. And, they are Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Donald J. Trump. And as of today, all of us are 79. I know what you're thinking, "Hey, Boze, you are way too old to be president." Yes, that is true. And so are all the other guys, above. 

   "People try to put us down, just because we get around."

—The Who

   On a related note: beware of a new virus spreading throughout the Southwest:

Trump-Vaquero Degrangement Syndrome

   On a happier note, my daughter sent me a nice bottle of Napa Valley Red for my birthday.

A Napa Valley Bottle of Red

& A Dog Named Blue, I mean,

Uno On A Blue Mat!

"I'm getting bugged driving up and down the same ol' strip. Gottah find a new place, where the kids are hip."

—Brian Wilson