Lassiter invents Preventive Health Care.

Doc looked into the steely gray cold eyes of Lassiter the lone gunman, professional killer for hire, and said, "What can I do you for?" Lassiter replied, "I'd like a physical examination." Doc pulled out a bell shaped listening device known as a stethoscope and auscultated Lassiter's lungs and stone cold black hardened heart. He then percussed and palpated his abdomen. When it was time for the digital rectal exam (DRE) Lassiter said "Whoa Doc, ain't no man goes where the sun don't shine. That's enough for one day. So what's your prognosis?" A. T. Still said, "There ain't nothin wrong with you Mr. Lassiter, you're as fit as a fiddle. What's the secret to your good health?" Lassiter said, "Clean livin' I guess." Doc said, "Well whatever it is, keep it up and do more of it. That and good genes are God's blessings." Lassiter didn't think it was a good idea to build and smoke more filterless cigarettes but did think he could consume more cask strength single malt Scotch whisky and made a mental note to do so. As for good genes, if Doc only knew that Pa died of a massive coronary at the age of 42 when he found out that his three older boys moved to New York City and joined the Army of Northern Aggression. Ma at age 37 died six months later of a broken heart. So much for good genes he thought. To be continued.....Slainte, Tommy Maaltman. [Note: This is the second entry written in Ye Olde Knife in the Kidney Tavern.]

Lassiter discovers Osteopathy

Lassiter, after successfully finishing some business in the Northern Dakota Territory, was heading back home to the dusty, dirty, forgotten town of......Forgotten when he stopped to replenish supplies in the small back woods Northeastern Missouri hicktown of Kirksville. As he rode down main street, he noticed a store front with a shingle hanging that read, Andrew Taylor Still, M.D., Osteopath. Having been born in a field when his mama squatted too deep while picking cotton in the hot sun back in Richmond, Virginia, Lassiter had never seen a doctor. Most people only went to frontier doctors when they were dying and the doctor usually sped up the process with unproven treatment and quackery. Even though he felt well, Lassiter thought it might be a good idea to have a physical exam, never dreaming he would spur a national movement of preventive health maintenance and plant the seed for what later would become known as executive health physicals, i.e. costly unnecessary physical examinations and testing of privileged white overfed American males with lots of money. You know the kind, the worried well. Lassiter dismounted and tied Blaze to the hitching post and walked in to the Doctor's office. A.T. Still was just finishing amputating the second arm at the shoulder of Billy, an unfortunate sod buster who stuck both of his arms into a jammed thrasher. He managed to unjam the thrasher but mangled both of his arms in the process. Doc looked up at Lassiter and said, "Make yourself comfortable, this will take but a minute and I'll be right with you." In those days the sign of a good surgeon was one who could amputate an extremity in less than a minute and Doc was a good surgeon having learned his trade as a Civil War Field Hospital Steward where he lopped off more gangrenous arms and legs than he could count. With the last swipe of the saw, Doc said, "there" as the arm fell to the blood soaked wooden floor on top of the other arm. He glanced at Andy, his young French Canadian apprentice and said, "tie off the artery and vein and bandage the stump." He then rinsed his bare hands in a bloody bucket of salt water and wiped them dry on his blood reddened surgical apron as he walked over to Lassiter to shake his hand. To be continued......Slainte , Tommy Maaltman. [Note: This is the first episode of Tommy Maaltman's Wild, Wild West written in Ye Olde Knife in the Kidney Tavern.]

Lassiter meets 'Lil' Madeline.

There was a general feeling of uneasiness ever since Lassiter returned to the dusty, dirty, forgotten town of......Forgotten. Not because the ruthless, stone cold professional killer for hire was walking around town amongst the town folk. No, they were uneasy because nobody was sure if Lassiter knew that Minerva had settled in town, married Jimmy, was working at Ho Ho's Chinese Emporium and was the proud mother of 'Lil' Madeline, Lassiter's granddaughter. Town folk didn't know how Lassiter a lone gunman, professional killer for hire without scruples, was going to take all the news when he found out. What the town folk didn't know is that Lassiter, while camping in the Grand Canyon, found God and became a born again Christian! One day, Lassiter walked into the Forgotten Mercantile and was buying some chewing tobacco thinking it might be a good idea to cut back on smoking a bit. By chance, Minerva walked in with 'Lil' Madeline straddling her hip to buy a new home spun dress for 'Lil' Madeline's christening. Minerva looked into Lassiter's eyes and saw the steely, stone cold eyes of a professional killer and knew immediately that she had finally found here father, the man who walked out on her family many years ago and left them poorly equipped to unsuccessfully fend for themselves. Minerva's heart started racing as she said, "Daddy, I want you to meet somebody." Lassiter, not used to being called "Daddy," didn't respond, as he tucked the chewing tobacco into his shirt pocket. Minerva said, "Daddy, I'm a talkin' to you." Lassiter slowly turned to face Minerva and their eyes locked for a moment. Lassiter then looked into 'Lil' Madeline's eyes and to his surprise saw two little stone cold, steely gray eyes looking up at him. He knew immediately that Minerva was his daughter and 'Lil' Madeline was his first and only grandchild. That night over a drams of 18 year old Highland Park, 43 vol. with a pale gold color, flowery nose, nuts, honey, cinnamon and ginger flavor and spicy, dry, oaky, smoky hot finish, Ginny the cashier at the Mercantile, swore that she saw the permanently downturned corners of Lassiter's scowling lips deeply etched in his granite like face turn upward with a smile when he saw 'Lil' Madeline earlier that day, if only for a millisecond. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

In Tommy Maaltman' Wild, Wild West, Lassiter contemplates retirement.

Upon returning from the Territory of Arizona, having settled some land disputes between wealthy cattle ranchers and poor sheepherders, later to become immortalized as the Pleasant Valley War, Lassiter kicked in the doors of The Hole in the Wall Saloon and walked over to his usual table where Kitty was already sitting. Even in the dim, smokey light of the saloon, it was painfully apparent that Kitty was showing the effects of the hard life of a " Lady of the Evening" in The Hole in the Wall Saloon in the dirty, dusty forgotten town of.....Forgotten. Lassiter sat down and with his stone cold, steely gray eyes, looked at Kitty's deeply lined face, sallow pale jaundiced skin, nicotine stained rotten teeth and thinning gray hair and couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for the once attractive entertainer who was ridden hard and put away wet. Lassiter said, "Kitty, have you given any thought to retiring?" Kitty, somewhat taken aback said, "Colton, my retirement is all planned out for three days before the funeral! How about you? You ain't looking so good neither!" Lassiter said, "I'll retire when the dirt hits me in the face!" They both said in unison, "Let's drink to that." Kitty, somewhat annoyed, got up and walked over to the bar where she slapped Gums, the unshaven, toothless Barkeep for being inattentive. Walking behind the bar, she grabbed a bottle of Dalwhinnie, 43%, 15 year old single malt whiskey with a golden, heather color, heather and peat dry nose, heather, honey and sweet vanilla taste, and a long lingering, smoke, peat and malty finish. Kitty poured two glassed and as they clinked them together, Lassiter said, "Here's to a long productive and successful life and a comfortable retirement." Slainte, Tommy Maaltman