All of this reminds me; did ya’ll hear about Bristoe talking with a Montana rancher out in front of his ranchette?

Anyway………Brsitoe was leaning on his mail box out along the road like he does every evening in his favorite wife beater shirt, and a Montana rancher who was in Kentucky looking at horses sees him and stops while driving by. They start up a conversation and the rancher asks Brisote if he owns the place. Bristoe proudly tells him that he owns all 6 acres that are fenced. (And he further clarifies his comment by saying he’s about to replace all of the fence as soon as he cashes in a few $20 Lotto tickets)

In return Bristoe asks the rancher about his ranch in Montana and how big it is. The rancher, not wanting to embarrass Bristoe by comparing acres, simply says that his ranch is big enough that he can leave the ranch house on one end of the ranch in his pickup truck when the sun comes up and he can’t get to the other end of the ranch before sundown.

Bristoe puff his chest out and quickly states, “Imagine that. I have a pick-up truck just like that one”.


It's official. I missed the selfie deadline so I'm Maser's sock puppet because rene and the Polish half of the fubar twins have decided that I am.

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