Cowboys Fan Quotes

What advice would you give to a smart, driven college student about to enter the “real world”? What advice should they ignore? I’m probably hopelessly out of date but my advice is get real-world experience: Be a cowboy. Drive a truck. Join the Marine Corps. Get out of the hypercompetitive “life hack” frame of mind. I’m 74. Believe me, you’ve got all the time in the world. You’ve got ten lifetimes ahead of you. Don’t worry about your friends “beating” you or “getting somewhere” ahead of you. Get out into the real dirt world and start failing. Why do I say that? Because the goal is to connect with your own self, your own soul. Adversity. Everybody spends their life trying to avoid it. Me too. But the best things that ever happened to me came during the times when the shit hit the fan and I had nothing and nobody to help me. Who are you really? What do you really want? Get out there and fail and find out.

Damn. Totally forgot. Guess I just got my man card yanked for not realizing football season had started. In my defense, I am a college fan (Go Longhorns!) and they don’t follow the same schedule as the NFL. I’m from the South, what can I say? It’s all about the college ball down here. I glanced up at the TV to see the Cowboys were indeed playing, and shook my head. Not a fan. Nope.

And for the first time in years, Rick realizes how fortunate he is and was. All the wonderful actors he's worked with through the years—Meeker, Bronson, Coburn, Morrow, McGavin, Robert Blake, Glenn Ford, Edward G. Robinson. All the different actresses he got to kiss. All the affairs he had. All the interesting people he got to work with. All the places he got to visit. All the fun stories he got to live. All the times he saw his name and picture in the papers and magazines. All the nice hotel rooms. All the fuss people made over him. All the fan mail he never read. All the times driving through Hollywood as a citizen in good standing. He looks around at the fabulous house he owns. Paid for by doing what he used to do for free when he was a little boy: pretending to be a cowboy.

The conversation swings from the brothers Bush to the war in Iraq to the emerging rights of Muslim women to postfeminism to current cinema—Mexican, American, European (Giorgio goes spasmodically mad over Bu-ñuel), and back to Mexican again—to the relative superiority of shrimp over any other kind of taco to the excellence of Ana’s paella, to Ana’s childhood, then to Jimena’s, to the changing role of motherhood in a postindustrial world, to sculpture, then painting, then poetry, then baseball, then Jimena’s inexplicable (to Pablo) fondness for American football (she’s a Dallas Cowboys fan) over real (to Pablo) fútbol, to his admittedly adolescent passion for the game, to the trials of adolescence itself and revelations over the loss of virginity and why we refer to it as a loss and now Óscar and Tomás, arms over each other’s shoulders, are chanting poetry and then Giorgio picks up a guitar and starts to play and this is the Juárez that Pablo loves, this is the city of his soul—the poetry, the passionate discussions (Ana makes her counterpoints jabbing her cigarette like a foil; Jimena’s words flow like a gentle wave across beach sand, washing away the words before; Giorgio trills a jazz saxophone while Pablo plays bass—they are a jazz combo of argument), the ideas flowing with the wine and beer, the lilting music in a black night, this is the gentle heartbeat of the Mexico that he adores, the laughter, the subtle perfume of desert flowers that grow in alleys alongside garbage, and now everyone is singing— México, está muy contento, Dando gracias a millares… —and this is his life—this is his city, these are his friends, his beloved friends, these people, and if this is all that there is or will be, it is enough for him, his world, his life, his city, his people, his sad beautiful Juárez… —empezaré de Durango, Torreón y Ciudad de

Billy was displayed there in the zoo in a simulated Earthling habitat. Most of the furnishings had been stolen from the Sears & Roebuck warehouse in Iowa City, Iowa. There was a color television set and a couch that could be converted into a bed. There were end tables with lamps and ashtrays on them by the couch. There was a home bar and two stools. There was a little pool table. There was wall-to-wall carpeting in federal gold, except in the kitchen and bathroom areas and over the iron manhole cover in the center of the floor. There were magazines arranged in a fan on the coffee table in front of the couch. There was a stereophonic phonograph. The phonograph worked. The television didn't. There was a picture of one cowboy shooting another one pasted to the television tube. So it goes. There were no wall in the dome, nor place for Billy to hide. The mint green bathroom fixtures were right out in the open. Billy got off his lounge chair now, went into the bathroom and took a leak. The crowd went wild.

As Americans embraced Wild West mythology by ignoring inconvenient facts and exaggerating or inventing more palatable ones, they also altered the meaning of a traditionally negative term. In Wyatt’s real West, anyone referred to as a cowboy was most likely a criminal. But in movies the word was used first to describe hardworking ranch hands and then, generically, those who rode horses, toted six-guns, and, when necessary (and it always became necessary) fought to uphold justice at the risk of their own lives. Cowboys were heroes, and their enemies were outlaws. So far as his growing legion of fans was concerned, Wyatt Earp was a cowboy in the new, best sense of the word. B

He could handle his former lover under his roof for a couple of days. No sweat, right? But when Trevor’s eyes caught Edgard’s, the punch of lust whomped him as sharply as a hoof to the belly, making him just as breathless. Dammit, don’t look at me that way, Ed. Please. Edgard banked the hunger in those topaz-colored eyes and Trevor silently breathed a sigh of relief. The blank stare was a reaction they’d both mastered during the years they’d spent together on the road. If sponsors, promoters or fans caught wind of his and Edgard’s nocturnal proclivities they would’ve been blackballed. Or would’ve been beat to shit on a regular basis if the other rodeo cowboys suspected he and Edgard weren’t merely traveling partners. There’d been no choice but to become discreet. Nothing discreet about the way Edgard had eyeballed him. “Trev, hon, you comin’?” “Go on. I’ll be right in after I take care of this motor.” He retreated to the barn, needing to find his balance after being knocked sideways. Edgard was here. Trevor’s gut clenched remembering the last time he’d seen the man. Remembering the misery on Edgard’s face, knowing his face reflected the same desolation when they’d said goodbye three and a half years ago. Crippled by pain, fear, and loss, Trevor hadn’t had the balls to wrap Edgard in his arms one last time. He’d snapped off some dumbass comment and done nothing but sit on his ass in the horse trailer like a lump of moldy shit and watched him go. No. Let him go. He’d gotten drunk that night. And every night after for damn near six months. He’d f**ked every woman who’d crossed his path. Sex and booze did nothing to chase away the sense he’d made a huge mistake. Or on the really bad nights, his all-too smug relief that he’d never really felt “that way” about Edgard and he was glad the too-tempting bastard was gone for good.

Delicious” might sound excessive, but it was the only word that properly described how he looked in worn blue jeans and chaps. Since she’d started coming down to the barns, she’d seen the other hands wearing chaps, but those cowboys hadn’t made her heart thump painfully or feel as if she should suddenly start fanning her face. Ward wore the kind that zippered down his long muscular legs, hugging them. Made of dark tan suede, they didn’t have the fringes or ornamentation that she’d noticed on some of the ones worn by the wranglers. There was nothing to distract her eyes or to keep her gaze from zeroing in on where the chaps buckled, framing the bulge of his sex. Her internal thermostat soared just from not looking at that particular spot. But the brim of his hat was angled downward—the better to study her new boots, she assumed. With his gaze shielded, she found the temptation impossible to resist. Yup, his crotch was truly the finest eye candy: yummy and calorie free.

Shakespeare. I can’t believe I let a Colorado cowboy win an argument with a sneaky massage and Shakespeare. I don’t even like Romeo and Juliet. I’m a Puck fan.” “Did

Our attitude is a result of our perception of reality, which is as much a reflection of time as anything else: what we have encountered in the past, our present situation, and how we see the future unfolding. People of faith can put their past behind them; all has been forgiven. We can also be buoyed in the present by the realization that all things must pass. That leaves the greatest source of optimism for the Christian: the certain future that lies ahead. Christ has replaced death with immortality. With our souls entrusted to God through faith in our Savior, a glorious future with God is ours.

Our attitude is a result of our perception of reality, which is as much a reflection of time as anything else: what we have encountered in the past, our present situation, and how we see the future unfolding. People of faith can put their past behind them; all has been forgiven. We can also be buoyed in the present by the realization that all things must pass. That leaves the greatest source of optimism for the Christian: the certain future that lies ahead. Christ has replaced death with immortality. With our souls entrusted to God through faith in our Savior, a glorious future with God is ours. - Ed McMinn, Daily Devotions for Die-Hard Fans: Oklahoma State Cowboy

Chiefs Kingdom Forever” (Verse 1) We’re Kansas City Chiefs fans born and raised, True and blue, we stand amazed, Mahomes and Kelce, leading the way, With their trick plays, they light up the day. (Chorus) We’re goin’ for three in a row, To the Super Bowl, let’s go, let’s go! Chiefs Kingdom, loud and proud, We’ll cheer 'em on, in every crowd. (Verse 2) From Arrowhead to the big stage, Our team’s the best, we set the gauge, With every pass and every run, We’re in it till the game is won. (Chorus) We’re goin’ for three in a row, To the Super Bowl, let’s go, let’s go! Chiefs Kingdom, loud and proud, We’ll cheer 'em on, in every crowd. (Bridge) Through the highs and the lows, In the rain, in the snow, We’re Chief fans till the end, With our team, we’ll always stand. (Chorus) We’re goin’ for three in a row, To the Super Bowl, let’s go, let’s go! Chiefs Kingdom, loud and proud, We’ll cheer 'em on, in every crowd. (Outro) So raise your voices, let it be known, In Chiefs Kingdom, we’ve found our home, Mahomes and Kelce, leading the way, We’re Chiefs fans, come what may.

Go Chiefs, Go!” September 5, 2024 at 1:54 PM (Verse 1) Every Sunday afternoon, it’s the same old scene, She’s in the kitchen, saying she don’t like the game. But when the Chiefs hit the field, she’s rooting for the other team, I just shake my head and smile, it’s always the same. (Chorus) Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, She can cheer for whoever, but my heart’s painted red and gold. Go Chiefs, go! We’re on a winning roll, No matter what she says, I’m shouting loud and bold. (Verse 2) She’s got her reasons, says it’s just a game of men, But I see that twinkle in her eye when the touchdowns begin. She’s pretending not to care, but I know she’s having fun, Even if she’s cheering for the other side, I know I’ve won. (Chorus) Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, She can cheer for whoever, but my heart’s painted red and gold. Go Chiefs, go! We’re on a winning roll, No matter what she says, I’m shouting loud and bold. (Bridge) Maybe one day she’ll wear that red and gold, But until then, I’ll keep cheering, never getting old. She’s my number one fan, even if she won’t admit, Together we’ll watch the game, every single bit. (Chorus) Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, She can cheer for whoever, but my heart’s painted red and gold. Go Chiefs, go! We’re on a winning roll, No matter what she says, I’m shouting loud and bold. (Outro) So here’s to the Chiefs, and here’s to my girl, We’ll keep this rivalry going, it’s our little world. Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, With her by my side, it’s the best story ever told.

Go Chiefs, Go!” September 6, 2024 at 11:19 AM (Verse 1) Every gameday, it’s the same old scene, She’s in the kitchen, saying she don’t like the game. But when the Chiefs hit the field, she’s rooting for the other team, I just shake my head and smile, it’s always the same. (Chorus) Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, She can cheer for whoever, but my heart’s painted red and gold. Go Chiefs, go! We’re on a winning roll, No matter what she says, I’m shouting loud and bold. (Verse 2) She’s got her reasons, says it’s just a stupid game. But I see that twinkle in her eye when the touchdowns begin. She’s pretending not to care, but I know she’s having fun, Even if she’s cheering for the other side, I know I’ve won. (Chorus) Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, She can cheer for whoever, but my heart’s painted red and gold. Go Chiefs, go! We’re on a winning roll, No matter what she says, I’m shouting loud and bold. (Bridge) Maybe one day she’ll wear that red and gold, But until then, I’ll keep cheering, never getting old. She’s my number one fan, even if she won’t admit, Together we’ll watch the game, every single bit. (Chorus) Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, She can cheer for whoever, but my heart’s painted red and gold. Go Chiefs, go! We’re on a winning roll, No matter what she says, I’m shouting loud and bold. (Outro) So here’s to the Chiefs, and here’s to my girl, We’ll keep this rivalry going, it’s our little world. Go Chiefs, go! Three-peat to the Super Bowl, With her by my side, it’s the best story ever told.

Freedom's Call [Verse 1] The wind's whisperin' warnings, the sky's turnin' grey, Our freedoms are vanishin', slippin' away, From the hills to the valleys, each small-town street, They'll take what we cherish unless we rise to our feet. [Verse 2] The big shots in charge, they just don't seem to care, Leadin' us blindly to who knows where, But we ain't just pawns in their twisted game, If you stand, I will too, let's fan this flame. [Chorus] If you don’t get active, if you don’t take a stand, They’ll take all you love with an iron-clad hand, Demand better, my friend, from those who lead you, Or the chains of control will bind me and you. [Verse 3] There's dust on the fields and rust on the plow, Work hard for our keep, but it's harder now, Politics and power play tricks with our lives, Hold tight to your values, keep freedom alive. [Verse 4] From the honky-tonks down to the church hall pews, The heart of our country beats strong and true, Let's raise up our voices, let liberty ring, For the land that we love, let's all dare to dream. [Chorus] If you don’t get active, if you don’t take a stand, They’ll take all you love with an iron-clad hand, Demand better, my friend, from those who lead you, Or the chains of control will bind me and you.

Actually, it would seem I’m just a big fan of Rhett Eaton, and not the cocky cowboy everyone else gets to see. The man who kisses me sweetly, who makes me feel taken care of, like I’m not a burden—the one who’s just a little bit vulnerable and insecure. The man that no one else really sees. I’m not sure why he’s opted to show me that side of himself, but I know I need to handle it with care. I know Rhett is far more sensitive than he lets on. His wounds run deep, and he’s patched them with a public persona and a cocky grin that doesn’t match the soulful man I’ve come to know.

Sarah Kellar is a mom, a social worker, a Dallas Cowboys fan, and a world traveler.

I got to meet interesting people with diverse talents, like Rex Allen, a western actor and singer who invited me to his home when he was throwing a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party for Slim Pickens and his wife, Margaret. There was a story making the rounds that night about the time when Rex was waiting for a plane in the Los Angeles airport, and a fan rushed up and cornered him. "Mr. Autry," the man said, "would you please give me your autograph?" Rex signed the autograph, "Gene Autry, who will never be half the cowboy Rex Allen is.

She was what he’d been craving. Brice deepened the kiss, letting the taste of Naomi fill every fiber of him. His body burned for her, and she fanned those flames by returning his kisses with such fervor that his knees went weak.

NOVELS Coetzee, J.M. Disgrace. Exley, Frederick. A Fan's Notes. Kohler, Sheila. One Girl. Miller, Henry. Tropic of Cancer. Salter, James. Light Years, A Sport and a Pastime. Stone, Robert. Dog Soldiers. Welch, James. The Death of Jim Loney. Wharton, Edith. The Age of Innocence. White, Edmund. The Beautiful Room Is Empty. SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS Bloom, Amy. Come to Me. Cameron, Peter. The Half You Don't Know. Carver, Raymond. Where I'm Calling From. Cheever, John. The Stories of John Cheever. Gaitskill, Mary. Bad Behavior, Because They Wanted To. Houston, Pam. Cowboys Are My Weakness. Johnson, Denis. Jesus' Son. Nugent, Beth. City of Boys. O'Brien, Tim. The Things They Carried. O'Connor, Flannery. The Complete Stories. Paley, Grace. Enormous Changes at the Last Minute. Perrotta, Tom. Bad Haircut. White, Edmund. Skinned Alive. Yates, Richard. Liars in Love.