Waking up in the savannah, wearing chaps and eating beans for breakfast. Jumping in the saddle and heading into the hills before lighting the fire and settling into another night on the trail.
cowboys are found in texas. they usually work on ranches. they’re representative of the masochistic notions in society. typical macho men and portrayed as aggressive, heroic characters in western novels. however i don’t really know what they’re like, for all i know they’re quiet and cool people. i haven’t met any cowboys ever.
Cowboys look like lonely mascots on their high horses. They feel alone. That’s all they ever do – ride alone in the boiling hot deserts. They never think about other people. Just pull out their guns and look good… Cowboys are just lonely mascots without any girl to love them. Poor lonely them…
the cowboy said to the indian that he was going to kill him in the wild west of colorado and the indian shot an arrow at him. the cowboy lay there barely alive and apologized, removed his hat and died. he never got to arizona to see his son before he met his demise.
I mean, really, is there a better catch-all phrase for homosexuals, homophobes, pretty people, ugly people, risk-takers, automobile salesman, bad cooks, lousy dates,
the brilliant imagination of a human society where the good always wins by means of force and bravad. although the concept is fun to be told as a story to kids, does it hold good intoday’s society? one must contemplate so and decide as to whether such legends are still required.
give a man a rope and he thinks he’s a cowboy! no truer words were spoken of that one! i mean really! where does he get off with that kind of attitude! doesn’t he realize the problems that kind of behavoiur will get him in?
My son wanted a cowboy hat for his birthday. He father was supposed to go and buy it in a cowboy shop in Dallas but he forgot. I ended up creating paper cowboy hat as I couldn’t drive and well the party was to start soon. I couldn’t ask someone else to go and buy it.
Riding in the wilds of the American west, with a big white had and rough jeans, he makes cattle move this way and that, always in the direction he wants to go. He never has a roof over his head, only the stars at night and the sun and clouds during the day. The cowboy is friendly, chewing tobacco and making friends as he goes. Though he does carry a gun and occasionally shoots bad guys, especially those with evil names like “Melvin” or “Brian.” The cowboy is mostly friendly, however, and likes to eat beans and potatoes au gratin. We like cowboys, they are true Americans.
tall horse ride lazo aaaaaaaaa
green there was a lazoon the green lawn and that horse was running all over it but then it fell and hurted himself oh my god said the cowboy and died poor cowboy i love you so much uhm uhm uhm lassooooo
i need a horse
hilarious people galloping for pure joy, a personal quest for excitement, fulfillment, joy, euphoria, through a unique environment and excess of physical activity, hard lives healthy soals
He is up at dawn with his cup ‘o joe and pack of smokes to start his day. The sound of his horse anxious to ride makes him put his cup down for a few strokes. Then with one last swallow he finishes his coffee and mounts his animal. A rough ride is ahead ’cause they’re on his trail.
I wish i was a cowboy, to go out west and start a new life. It is all about the American Dream. Too bad it is all a hoax. The American dream does not exist, what does exist is violence and greediness. American expansionism was all a bunch of bullshit. Is America an empire? You bet your ass it is.
Once there was a cowboy. Did he love cows, boy!?! Cows were this boy’s passion, and this boy was passionate about cows. So if you ever eat a cow, boy, think about this cowboy. Think twice before eating the cow, another cow’s boy.
he walked down the long corridor his boots jangling behind him. he grabbed the side of his belt where his gun bounced back anf forth against his thy. he looked rom behind the brim of his hat and licked his lips. perspiration was forming at the nape of his neck, he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. he turns, grabs the trigger, kills him in one shot. its over, as quick as it began. bends down dusts off his boots and turns to leave. job well done, he says to himself. he pulls an apple from his pocket and sinks his teeth into it, taking a large wet bite from the firm red apple we chews twice and swallows stopping only once while walking across the yard. he mounts his horse, throws the core in the ditch and classically rides off into the sunset. the town gathers in the center, mourns over its fallen soldier.
i think of the dallas cowboys. i like them for purely sentimental reasons. i have a friend who loves them and he was one of my best friends. now he’s over in iraq =/ stupid war.
He had a ten gallon hat and spurs on his boots. His horse was grey. I was a mighty stallion. They had traveled so far together. They were like brothers. Nothing could separate them.
Well it’s a Texas thing. Astrodome. Rodeo. And what about the real deal. The people who make their living by working with steers, horses, and what a hard life it must be. But satisfying I think and very real.
It’s probably a bad sign, and a significant symbol of our culture, that the first thing I think when I see “cowboy” is “gay”.
I didn’t even see Brokeback Mountain, but the thought still comes to mind. Among my other scattered thoughts is that I was born in the town whose claim to fame is “The World’s Oldest Rodeo”…
John Wayne, I remember hearing that he was dead when I was a kid, and not really understanding why he was dead. I mean, he’s on tv all the time. When I was a kid there were always movies on tv, usually older movies that were obviously a cheap way to fill in the schedules. And at least once a week I saw a John Wayne movie. I can’t remember specifics, and I wouldn’t call myself a fan. But I remember a Wayne movie was always interesting, entertaining and well made.
The thing I remember most was the feelng that movies star should be indestructable. They shouldn’t die. they should go on and on forever.
I think this was the first time I honestley realised that movie stars were real people, and films a mere collection of fictions. That was the really heart breaking thing for me. Suddenly knowing that the magical world of movies was fake, and that I could never, ever become a part of them.
there was a cowboy and his name was roy. i loved him and he loved me– our love was the kind that even angels covet. with a soft whisper goodbye, he rode off; never to be seen again. momma said men are like that.
The lonesome cowboy rode into town. He was worn and hard looking. One could tell he’d seen a lot of misery and yet had a optimistic outlook on life. His head was high and his back was straight in his leather saddle. No
really good looking and exciting. kinda hot. endearing. manly and able to take care of anything fearlessly. very in shape and healthy. kinda scruffy and messy looking. maybe not too smart. down to earth nice guy.
Rides through the sunset with his cap on his head. Doesn’t know where he is going but continues regardless. Shadows stretching out into the distance. Sunlight leaking out from over the horizon. Is it me, or is it the cowboy?
The cowboy had a sexy hat and all about him knew he was into it. All knew the cowboy for what he was, and that there was not really anyone waiting for him behind the flapping doors of the bar to duel with. His horse was hungry and he was out of mony for hay. No out laws to cash.
Bye bye, cowboy.
One day the cowboy said to the man ‘What are you talking about?? My boot is perfectly fine where it is! If you have a problem then just move your face instead.’ And thus people started dodging before they get kicked in the face with a cowboy boot.
i once met a cowboy. He was rough, tough, and curt. His mannerisms were unlike anything I had seen before. His vernacular was a speak of the old west even though it was modern day America. He spoke slangs like m’am, ya old son of a skunk and other odd occidental speak that seemed that he should have lived in the early nineteenth centry
cowboy. A bcow with the head of a boy who wonders around looking lost and forlorn until the savoir comes.
The savior? The maiden comes running for her tower to rescue him from his life of…
wait… have I got confused?
Cowboy… there’s another meaning in there somewhere. Two children, blood-brothers, the frotn and the back in the costume of a cow.
No…
I want to be a cowboy but I can’t cause I am a girl. A dusty dirty cowboy roping and riding in the hills. Hat shading my eyes from the blazing sun and dust flying as I ride into the sunset.
He was a drifter not knowing where his next day would be. He had a fine looking horse to ride on the ranches he worked but he owned nothing else except his horse and saddle. He liked it that way. No responsibilities other than working hard during the day and being tired at night.
Sauntering into the sandy landscape, without a single care – only an identity that comes with a set of behaviours, attitudes, and of course the attire.
A comboy is a guy, with a stupid hat. He is a macho and drinks a lot of beer at a saloon. He rides with a brown horse and has two pistols.
Waking up in the savannah, wearing chaps and eating beans for breakfast. Jumping in the saddle and heading into the hills before lighting the fire and settling into another night on the trail.
cowboys are found in texas. they usually work on ranches. they’re representative of the masochistic notions in society. typical macho men and portrayed as aggressive, heroic characters in western novels. however i don’t really know what they’re like, for all i know they’re quiet and cool people. i haven’t met any cowboys ever.
Cowboys look like lonely mascots on their high horses. They feel alone. That’s all they ever do – ride alone in the boiling hot deserts. They never think about other people. Just pull out their guns and look good… Cowboys are just lonely mascots without any girl to love them. Poor lonely them…
cowboys wear stylish hats and eat beef and ride horses and carry ropes ans shout yeha
cowboys are people who roam the wild west and travel on horse back and they use lassoes and pistols as weopons. they wear cowboy hats and waistcoats
the cowboy said to the indian that he was going to kill him in the wild west of colorado and the indian shot an arrow at him. the cowboy lay there barely alive and apologized, removed his hat and died. he never got to arizona to see his son before he met his demise.
Some people call me the space cowboy.
I don’t really understand what they mean by that. It upsets me… that I have a nickname that could be an esoteric offensive joke directed towards me.
Maybe like crater face? Is it that?
I’ve had bad skin for a long time and it’s no joke.
It’s very sore.
I mean, really, is there a better catch-all phrase for homosexuals, homophobes, pretty people, ugly people, risk-takers, automobile salesman, bad cooks, lousy dates,
the brilliant imagination of a human society where the good always wins by means of force and bravad. although the concept is fun to be told as a story to kids, does it hold good intoday’s society? one must contemplate so and decide as to whether such legends are still required.
give a man a rope and he thinks he’s a cowboy! no truer words were spoken of that one! i mean really! where does he get off with that kind of attitude! doesn’t he realize the problems that kind of behavoiur will get him in?
My son wanted a cowboy hat for his birthday. He father was supposed to go and buy it in a cowboy shop in Dallas but he forgot. I ended up creating paper cowboy hat as I couldn’t drive and well the party was to start soon. I couldn’t ask someone else to go and buy it.
Riding in the wilds of the American west, with a big white had and rough jeans, he makes cattle move this way and that, always in the direction he wants to go. He never has a roof over his head, only the stars at night and the sun and clouds during the day. The cowboy is friendly, chewing tobacco and making friends as he goes. Though he does carry a gun and occasionally shoots bad guys, especially those with evil names like “Melvin” or “Brian.” The cowboy is mostly friendly, however, and likes to eat beans and potatoes au gratin. We like cowboys, they are true Americans.
tall horse ride lazo aaaaaaaaa
green there was a lazoon the green lawn and that horse was running all over it but then it fell and hurted himself oh my god said the cowboy and died poor cowboy i love you so much uhm uhm uhm lassooooo
i need a horse
hilarious people galloping for pure joy, a personal quest for excitement, fulfillment, joy, euphoria, through a unique environment and excess of physical activity, hard lives healthy soals
He is up at dawn with his cup ‘o joe and pack of smokes to start his day. The sound of his horse anxious to ride makes him put his cup down for a few strokes. Then with one last swallow he finishes his coffee and mounts his animal. A rough ride is ahead ’cause they’re on his trail.
I wish i was a cowboy, to go out west and start a new life. It is all about the American Dream. Too bad it is all a hoax. The American dream does not exist, what does exist is violence and greediness. American expansionism was all a bunch of bullshit. Is America an empire? You bet your ass it is.
Once there was a cowboy. Did he love cows, boy!?! Cows were this boy’s passion, and this boy was passionate about cows. So if you ever eat a cow, boy, think about this cowboy. Think twice before eating the cow, another cow’s boy.
he walked down the long corridor his boots jangling behind him. he grabbed the side of his belt where his gun bounced back anf forth against his thy. he looked rom behind the brim of his hat and licked his lips. perspiration was forming at the nape of his neck, he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. he turns, grabs the trigger, kills him in one shot. its over, as quick as it began. bends down dusts off his boots and turns to leave. job well done, he says to himself. he pulls an apple from his pocket and sinks his teeth into it, taking a large wet bite from the firm red apple we chews twice and swallows stopping only once while walking across the yard. he mounts his horse, throws the core in the ditch and classically rides off into the sunset. the town gathers in the center, mourns over its fallen soldier.
i think of the dallas cowboys. i like them for purely sentimental reasons. i have a friend who loves them and he was one of my best friends. now he’s over in iraq =/ stupid war.
I really hope that not all cowboys are gay. That would really kind of hurt.
He had a ten gallon hat and spurs on his boots. His horse was grey. I was a mighty stallion. They had traveled so far together. They were like brothers. Nothing could separate them.
Well it’s a Texas thing. Astrodome. Rodeo. And what about the real deal. The people who make their living by working with steers, horses, and what a hard life it must be. But satisfying I think and very real.
a big fan
tough, rugged,
wears a hat and wranglers
long sleeve shirt
unshaven
tough as nails
rides a horse, get them cows
piercing star and sunburned.
It’s probably a bad sign, and a significant symbol of our culture, that the first thing I think when I see “cowboy” is “gay”.
I didn’t even see Brokeback Mountain, but the thought still comes to mind. Among my other scattered thoughts is that I was born in the town whose claim to fame is “The World’s Oldest Rodeo”…
John Wayne, I remember hearing that he was dead when I was a kid, and not really understanding why he was dead. I mean, he’s on tv all the time. When I was a kid there were always movies on tv, usually older movies that were obviously a cheap way to fill in the schedules. And at least once a week I saw a John Wayne movie. I can’t remember specifics, and I wouldn’t call myself a fan. But I remember a Wayne movie was always interesting, entertaining and well made.
The thing I remember most was the feelng that movies star should be indestructable. They shouldn’t die. they should go on and on forever.
I think this was the first time I honestley realised that movie stars were real people, and films a mere collection of fictions. That was the really heart breaking thing for me. Suddenly knowing that the magical world of movies was fake, and that I could never, ever become a part of them.
there was a cowboy and his name was roy. i loved him and he loved me– our love was the kind that even angels covet. with a soft whisper goodbye, he rode off; never to be seen again. momma said men are like that.
a cowbou looks funny and has a stupid hat.i like the sound of cowboys.i dont no where cowboys really live and i feel th
The lonesome cowboy rode into town. He was worn and hard looking. One could tell he’d seen a lot of misery and yet had a optimistic outlook on life. His head was high and his back was straight in his leather saddle. No
its a type of person who used to live in the times of Westerns and stuff.
Nowadays associated with gay okes. E.G if you dress as a cowboy, you’re gay.
Catches cows on horsback
I wanna be a cowboy baby……
really good looking and exciting. kinda hot. endearing. manly and able to take care of anything fearlessly. very in shape and healthy. kinda scruffy and messy looking. maybe not too smart. down to earth nice guy.
Rides through the sunset with his cap on his head. Doesn’t know where he is going but continues regardless. Shadows stretching out into the distance. Sunlight leaking out from over the horizon. Is it me, or is it the cowboy?
The cowboy had a sexy hat and all about him knew he was into it. All knew the cowboy for what he was, and that there was not really anyone waiting for him behind the flapping doors of the bar to duel with. His horse was hungry and he was out of mony for hay. No out laws to cash.
Bye bye, cowboy.
One day the cowboy said to the man ‘What are you talking about?? My boot is perfectly fine where it is! If you have a problem then just move your face instead.’ And thus people started dodging before they get kicked in the face with a cowboy boot.
i once met a cowboy. He was rough, tough, and curt. His mannerisms were unlike anything I had seen before. His vernacular was a speak of the old west even though it was modern day America. He spoke slangs like m’am, ya old son of a skunk and other odd occidental speak that seemed that he should have lived in the early nineteenth centry
cowboy. A bcow with the head of a boy who wonders around looking lost and forlorn until the savoir comes.
The savior? The maiden comes running for her tower to rescue him from his life of…
wait… have I got confused?
Cowboy… there’s another meaning in there somewhere. Two children, blood-brothers, the frotn and the back in the costume of a cow.
No…
I want to be a cowboy but I can’t cause I am a girl. A dusty dirty cowboy roping and riding in the hills. Hat shading my eyes from the blazing sun and dust flying as I ride into the sunset.
He was a drifter not knowing where his next day would be. He had a fine looking horse to ride on the ranches he worked but he owned nothing else except his horse and saddle. He liked it that way. No responsibilities other than working hard during the day and being tired at night.
Sauntering into the sandy landscape, without a single care – only an identity that comes with a set of behaviours, attitudes, and of course the attire.