Legend of the West

1 November 2025

I bought a new dress the other day.  The garment was advertised/labeled as “Wedding Guest Dress”.

I laughed as I pulled the trigger on the online purchase.  The thing is semi-backless.  You tie two fabric sections in the back to create your own level of special and unique decency, or indecency, at the Sacred Event.

Weddings sure aren’t what they used to be.  Then again, neither are marriages!

I recall my own wedding.  One of my much older sisters served as the matron-of-honor.  The hired photographer fell in love with her cleavage, resulting in about 86 pictures of the busty bleached blonde, compared to perhaps 20 pix of the non-stacked natural-blonde bride.  When a male friend of mine perused the Purchased Professional Photos with me, he asked,

“Has this sister always been this tacky?”

I thought for a few seconds, then replied, “Yes.”

She was wayyyyy ahead of her time, in terms of what today’s Online Parasite-Post presents daily as Publicized Nuptials for what has to be the most vulgar of vixen to ever enter into holy matrimony.

Vixen aren’t what they used to be either.

In the 1962 John Ford film, “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”, one of the closing bits of sage advice given by what used to be a Journalist (Newspaper Editor) is:

“This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

It’s not easy, creating a Legend of the West.  Jolene du Près, however, IS the Legend of the West.

A few weeks ago, she tree’d a bear one night.  It was a smallish black bear, young-adult sized, about 4 feet tall.  There was no moon during that midnight outing, so she accomplished quite a feat, witnessed by Dear Master.

There’s been no living with her since then.  She’s on the lookout, each night, expecting that bear to return.  Dear Husband told this tale to a couple of little girls, about seven years of age, playing at the local park.  Girl A had stated, whilst petting Jolene:

“Beagles are fearless.”

Dear Husband then explained the canine feat of tree’ing a bear.

Little Girl B, with hugely widened eyes, asked, “Really?”

A week later, Dear Master brought Jolene to the park (her daily appearance is eagerly awaited by both humans and dogs).  They encountered Little Girl B, and her Grandma.  The child pointed out:

“Look, Grams.  This is the beagle that tackled the bear!!!!”

Grams made no comment, but it was clear she wasn’t believing any of it.

At that point, it’s just easier to tell/print The Legend!  There’s no intent to deceive, unlike the decades-long business-model of the going-bankrupt FauxNews.

This morning, The Houndette-Legend of the West showed up at the kitchen door with some kind of stuffed animal, stuffed into her mouth.  I let her in, and then Dear Husband promptly showed up to explain that toy doesn’t get let into the house.  It’s a beaver.

“A real one?”

“No, a stuffed one that she found up that way, by where the coyotes gather.  A coyote probably stole it.”

“So Jolene is a re-collector?”

The nod was affirmative from the Master of the Bear-Tackler.

Dear Jolene then high-stepped, with intensely focused determination, up the stairs, with perfect form, one step at a time to my Sewing Room.  There, she worked intensely to find a place to hide her prey.  There are so many nooks and crannies in that chamber, which is precisely how I designed it — for the purpose of creating an inventive sense of space for Me and My Muse.

I’ve no idea where Stuffed Beaver got shoved, but it’s since been re-re- collected.  The ersatz critter is outside now, and so is Jolene the Re-collector.

What is a Re-collector?

The term, re-collector, is derived from Episode 6, Season 2 of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. — The Re-Collectors Affair.

In this classic TV spy caper, Napoleon Solo figures out that the supposedly good-guys, who re-collect stolen art, namely priceless paintings, from The Bad Guys, the Nazis who stole those priceless works of art — are actually the Third-Reich-Thieves themselves.

Yes, the Nazis raced to Paris to conquer France, and all of that decadent art, culture, food and wine — that they so virulently despised.  All the better to loot it, steal it, plunder it, swill it, vilify it, along with vixens of the long-ago!

The present “hypocrisy” of the Left (not the bank, but the banksters bankrolling protests, parades, and geriatric gatherings) is nothing, compared to the gargantuan duplicity, fraud and villainy of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party (Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei or NSDAP).

Today’s Socialist-Hypocrites aren’t truly hypocrites because they do not believe in anything, so there’s no moral standard to two-face.  The closest approximation to the “belief system” of these lazy, spoiled dullards is quick-and-easy money, slothlike greed, conspicuous and covert consumption, garbage-gut mentality, and godless materialistic living.

They like booty, but they like just as much to shake their booty, all over Social Media.  These lazy attention-whores will, one day, be receiving Soche payments and their frame-of-mind will not have changed one iota, much like their fraudulent, freaky forebears, those scions of Self-Entitlement:  The Baby Boomers.

This rather dramatic episode of U.N.C.L. E. has a fascinating plot, which gave me enormous pause for thought, for enormous thought, to answer the question that Solo pointedly poses to Illya:

How do the good-guys know the locations of all of the stolen treasures?

I’ve consequently come up with a new name for our Corrupt Political Class:

The Re-Collectors.

Here’s one instance where the Legend and the Fact are one, and the same!