The Saratoga Sun -

Barstool prophet


This story was inspired by true events.

In a small western town there are only so many places to socialize in the winter.

Of course you can go to church (we have plenty of those), you can attend community events (fewer of those), or you can go to a bar.

I have often said that you know you are in Wyoming when there are more bars than gas stations. We have our priorities.

I am not a huge fan of the fact that seeing the friends I do have revolves around alcohol so I try to limit my saloon excursions.

I also have been trying to limit the amount that somehow finds its way down my gullet, too.

Sometimes this works better than others.

I’m not trying to be another Earnest Hemingway.


I’m not.

Anyway …

There are oft- (and easily) overlooked creatures of intense foretelling ability that dwell within the confines of inebriation.

If you can locate one, you too can enjoy the fortunes the likes of which only newspaper workers (like me) can aspire.

The problem is … you have to properly interpret what their actual message is.

If you can unlock these mysteries, the future will come to you like slobber on a sleeping high school sophomore’s desk (yes, I know about the school drool pool).

The way you figure out what these barstool prophet’s message is is to listen to their stories.

Then listen to them as they tell them again.

And again.

The discrepancies or differences between the tellings are where the gems are hidden.

I’ll give you an example:

First Telling

(extremely shortened


“You know that elk I shot nine days ago and couldn’t track down? Well, me and my brother went hunting the other day and he killed it.”

Second Telling

(still abbreviated)

“… that elk I shot twice an lossst itsss blood trail … my bro got him yesssterday with a good shot. Yup. Shot him to a T.”

Third Telling

(we’re getting there trust me)

“I axually got my that elk twice … twice …once in the … rump. Than my bro shot ‘im nine days … nine daysss later. Just got iz rezdent licenz back too”

So you can see what the message is. It’s plain as the nose on your face.

The added “Shot him to a T” in the second gives you a “T”

The additional “rump” in the third telling is a clue along with the also-added “resident”

Surely you have figured out that the clear prophecy is that Trump will be president.

See, wasn’t that easy.

Now you know where to bet.

And it only took four hours.

Listening to boozy Nostradamus’ takes talent though.

Sometimes the proper prediction is hidden in the omissions.

Sometimes the true message is garbled beyond translation.

Any way you slice it though you will find the accuracy percentage of these cocktail prognostications to be on the same high level as those of Nostradamus himself.

I did actually hear further telling of the prophet’s story to other rapt members of the assemblage later that night and I thought I could make out, “ I never would have got tha telk on m’oan …”

So maybe it turns out Trump will never be president.

Like I said … same accuracy as Nostradamus.

Maybe I should just stick to writing funny stories.

My friends won’t talk to me anymore for some reason.


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