Bob Dole & the Price of Bull Semen

Blogging has made me look through my older writing, and I had to share this one just for the weirdness of the bull catalog. This was written around 2001:


I must be on every junk mail list in the country, and I mean EVERY SINGLE ONE. Oh, I know other people say, “Oh, look at me, poor me, I’m on so many junk mail lists!” But what they really mean to say is, “Oh, look at me, poor me, I’m on almost as many junk mail lists as David Wallace.”

What has landed me on so many lists, I think, is cross-pollination. That, or someone is having a great deal of fun at my expense. Which I can respect; don’t get me wrong. Some of the best fun you can have is usually at someone else’s expense--not a pretty fact of life, but as those boozy old smoking redheaded waitresses say in shithole diners, "Life ain’t always pretty, ain’tcha mama ever told ya that?"

Anyway, you know how when you subscribe to certain types of magazines, you then get all kinds of junk from similarly-aligned groups and what not? Like, you subscribe to “Mother Jones,” and you start getting stuff from the ACLU, the Sierra Club, Greenpeace, etc. You subsribe to “National Review” and you start getting stuff from the NRA, Charlton Heston, and those Michigan Militia groups.


Anyway again, I used to belong to the former category solely, and got lots and lots of fun stuff; at least what I considered fun stuff. Then, either someone read the little “D” on my voter’s registaration card as an “R” or, as I mentioned earlier, someone decided to have a little fun with me , coz I was suddenly getting stuff from BOTH sides of the fence.

Guns & Ammo catalogs. Trial subscriptions to conservative magazines so unspeakably vile they burned my hands. Invitations to join the NRA. Letters from Bob Dole! As most of you know, my “political sympathies” lie somewhat to the left of Ted Kennedy; so I was quite distressed by this recent twist to my junk mail woes.


I mean, sure, it’s fun filling Bob Dole’s business reply envelope with sand and sending it back to him to pay the mailing costs; but once you’ve crossed into the land of getting mail from both sides, you seem to hit junk mail warp speed and stuff flies out of your mailbox like, well, like hateful epithets flying out of Bob Dole’s mouth.

I also get those fun puzzles from clearing houses. “Add these three columns of numbers in this ‘skill’ test and you can win $10 gazillion dollars! And it’s okay to use a calculator!! Reply within ten years and you’ll get this pewter armadillo ABSOLUTELY FREE (all you pay is the $9.95 shipping and handling charges).”


But the best came today. The best came in a large manilla envelope with a return address from a place called ABS. I thought I was getting some wonder booklet, “free just for ordering,” on how to get one of those stomachs-of-death everyone but me seems to have these days.


I couldn’t POSSIBLY have been more off.


ABS in this case stands for the American Breeders Society. At first, I thought, “Mom will be so pleased,” but then I saw what was inside. A brochure listing “Fall 2001 Beef Semen Prices;" the 2001 Holstein AND Protein Breeds Sire Directories; a Dairy Semen Price List; and, best of all, the “2001 Beef Sire Directory.” This last item is like a yearbook for cows. Excuse me, BULLS. It’s filled with pictures and bios of the ABS “Superior Sire Lineup.” Of course the photos of these fine potential-sire specimens comes AFTER the shot of the family of four gathered around the dining room table at home about to enjoy a big steak dinner (“Mom, who are we eating tonight,” asks Junior, flipping through the 2001 beef sire directory, “Sir Duke’s son or Flying Magnum’s daughter?”)


Let me stress that I am not lying. The 2001 Beef Sire Directory lists the potential sire’s name, stats, and “plusses.” The names are fun; like racehorses. We have Spade Flush, Merlin, Stemwinder, Bootjack, and Performer.


Performer.


Could you ask for a better name for a sire? Also, just like in the yearbook when they mention your accomplishments (Glee Club, Editor of the School Paper, Class Clown, etc.) and run fun quotes under your photo like “Still Waters Run Deep,” The 2001 Beef Sire Directory lists little extras and plusses for each potential sire.


For instance, High Time “sires stylish calves”; FCC Epinal has “extra muscle with good eye appeal”; the owners of Husker suggest him for “use on small to medium sized cows” (???); fortunately, the owners of the sire Iose promises to “sire correct feet and legs” (whew!); from Black Hockeye you’re promised that “daughters have excellent udders and small teat size”; and, for all of you Republicans out there who are sire hunting, Skyway promises “pigmentation and CONSERVATIVE markings”!! (emphasis mine).


But if *I* were choosing a sire, I’d have to go with Coirneal. Not only does this bull have long hair, making him look kind of like a wooly mammoth without the trunk, he is sired by the popular bull, Jock 26th of Leys!


But wait, there’s more!

His maternal grandsire is used in the queen's own herd! Awesome! Sign me up (as soon as I find a cow that needs a sire, that is--where's that teacher I hated now, when I need her?).


Needless to say, after receiving a gem like this in the mail, I am no longer quite so upset over being on so many junk mail lists. In fact, I’m hoping to do a little cross-pollinating of my own in regards to the mail I’m getting. For instance, maybe I can forward Bob Dole’s next letter on to ABS and they can find him a nice sire. Perhaps Rocky, who is “recommended for mature cows only.”