The Holy Grail Press
Proudly Made On Earth By Earthlings
Word of the Every So Often
huckleberry: (noun) other than the actual berry, it’s the man you're looking for; the right person for the job. You need somebody to take care of that problem? No worries. I'll be your huckleberry.
Everyday History
On October 26, 1881, the Earp Brothers, Wyatt, Virgil, and Morgan, along with their friend Doc Holliday, shot it out with the Cochise County Cowboys – a group of cattle rustlers, horse thieves, and thoroughly naughty individuals – at the OK Corral in Tombstone, Arizona. Well, it wasn’t really in the Corral, but that’s just getting picky. The lawmen and the bad guys hadn’t liked each other for a while. And, you see, there was this town ordinance about not carrying weapons into town that the lawmen decided to enforce. And the bad guys said, “Only from my cold, dead fingers.” And the lawmen said, “Ok.” It is estimated that 30 shots were fired in about 30 seconds, killing three of the bad guys – Billy Clanton and Tom and Frank McLaury. And what was settled? Nothing. The “defendants” – the surviving bad guys – were found to have acted lawfully. You really can’t just gun somebody down with little provocation, even if you have a badge. And those survivors really had it in for the Earps after that. Less than two months later, in December of 1881, in an ambush, Virgil Earp was badly injured, and Morgan was killed. Wyatt then went after the remaining “Cowboys,” and... oh, hell. Just watch the movie – there are a lot to choose from.
And, if you’re wondering, the “OK Corral” was probably not called that because it was an “OK” place to leave your horse. They are the initials of the corral’s owners, a guy named Orgill and another guy named Kindersley... maybe.
And all that leads us to the word of the day: Huckleberry.
Cartoon of the Week
"Be one of us. Be one of us."
Stuff
The Dust of Bones
Tonight is the night
when the dust of bones
beneath cold tombstones
Remembers.
They remember.
They remember when
their bones had skin.
And they weren’t buried
quite so deep.
They remember how
their fingers could prove
that dirt can move.
And they’re not buried
quite so deep.
And they remember just why
they shouldn’t’ve died.
And they’re not buried
quite so deep.
And they remember where –
the alleys and the streets,
the course of their feet,
the light and the laughter inside.
And they’re not buried
quite at all!
And know that when –
when the dust of bones
returns to their stones,
they never return alone.
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