Bad Lands By Lee Pitts •

“Badlands” is a new game about the apocalypse, where players are tasked with exploring an abandoned Chicago. It’s all funded by crypto currency and built on blockchain technology.

Bad Lands is a game that was released by Lee Pitts The game has been called “one of the most challenging games ever made” and has received many positive reviews. Read more in detail here: badland .

Lee Pitts is a columnist for The and Paso Robles Press who can be reached at [email protected]

I’ve never been the victim of a rustler, sometimes known as a brand burner or blotter. But a new neighbor, a want tobe cowboy who’d got his money elsewhere and understood less about ranching than I know about quantum physics, accused me of being one. His charge was absurd; I was losing money on every cow I had at the moment, so why would I want more? I had no desire for his cows, even if they were significantly superior than my collection of gummers, gimps, evening calvers, and crazy cows.

My new neighbor may have grown up watching too many cowboy movies. He drove home every day via the rear corner of the ranch my wife and I rented, and he regularly observed his cows on my side of the fence, assuming I’d rustled them. While I confess to having “too many irons in the fire” on occasion, and while I do possess a running iron that was used to change brands in Colorado 150 years ago I swear on a stack of bibles that I’ve never used it.

Even though I’ve never contemplated taking someone else’s livestock, it’s simple to understand the benefits. For one thing, cattle may be stolen far quicker than they can be raised by a rancher. Who wouldn’t desire super cows capable of producing eight calves each year or a 300-head cowherd capable of producing 2,400 calves per year? That’s a thriving herd of cows!

Still, being accused of being a rustler irritated me. From my side of the fence, the part of the ranch where he viewed his cows was literally unreachable. It was similar to the Hole In The Wall where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid used to hang out since getting in was so tough. When my calves were about 200 pounds and the cows were milking well, I always kept the pasture for them. The calves grew like weeds in the meadow, which had a natural spring at the bottom and knee-high lush grass. Then I had to wait until the cows had eaten all of the grass and deliberately entered the “badlands” of the ranch via the Hole In The Wall. If the new neighbor wanted his cows back at any moment, he just had to open a gate, and they’d return to his side of the fence after grazing on my grass.

We’re going to get through this together, Atascadero

It’s been stated that a horse can travel everywhere a cow can, and although that may be true for certain horses, it’s not true for Gentleman, my $700 “wonder horse.” I say “wonder horse” because getting him to trot, gallop, or even wake up was a miracle. I once attempted to persuade Gentleman to descend the high cliff into the badlands, but because to his slicker-than-owl-snot shoes, we flew down the mountain like I was skiing down a triple black diamond ski slope.

I needed to find out how my neighbor’s cows were getting on my side of the fence after the third time of being accused of rustling his cattle, so one day after the neighbor had recovered his animals, I sat on the top of the mountain and observed for a while through my binoculars. It didn’t take long for me to figure out what I needed to know. Then, when he’d recovered his cows again again, I asked my new neighbor to join me in my truck on top of the mountain. Indeed, one of his cows slipped her head beneath the bottom wire and raised the fence 20 yards in both directions. Then she was joined by all of her sisters in wandering under my luscious fields. All the posts slid back into their holes after everyone was comfortably ensconced on my side of the fence, and the fence looked hog tight once again. Every one of my neighbor’s nine wires on the fence had done nothing except strengthen the fence, making it easier for the cows to pull it up.

My neighbor was so humiliated by my accusation of being a rustler that he went home and had all of the fence posts replaced with concrete. He even paid the ludicrous grazing costs bill I gave him.