LXXXVII. Give Me More of that Western Store
“Well Hey Yourself”
God I feel like so much more of a man every time I say that... or “howdy”... or “fella.” I’ve been a huge western kick lately. It started with movies (3:10 to Yuma, No Country For Old Men, Tombstone, Brokeback Mountain), but now my hobby has become a full-fledged obsession. I’ve bankrupted myself on 10 gallon hats, spurs, saddle blankets and more spittoons than you can shake a stick at. Why I just spent all my money I saved from the summer of 2006, when I donated semen 3 days a week, on a pair of authentic Doc Holliday worn boots from ebay ($1,850).
But it’s not a waste - not to me. Think of the romance of it all. The worn wood creaking under your feet as each new hit of the heel of your boot strikes the plank announcing your presence as you make your way to the Saloon. Double swinging doors fling open as you take in the scene, peering across the room with squinted eyes. Evaluating, making sure there are no itchy trigger fingers because you never know, at any instant, a man may toss his table over with his knees and draw two 6 shooters from his hip, but not before you skin your own smokewagon and make a canoe out of his head. (Thanks Wyatt Earp).
You throw caution to the wind, pace on in, challenge men to card games and light a match with your beard stubble. You take slow, strong puffs off of your cigar to calm the nerves of your own itchy trigger finger. “Barkeep - fetch me a bottle of your strongest gut rot!”you say just before you drown out the screams of the men you’ve killed with a bottle of whiskey and a syphilis ridden local maiden. You awake, don’t consider showering, and ride off the next morning to your next bank heist or dentist appointment.
Ahh the “Wild West.” They didn’t call it that for nothing. Now the closest thing most have to that experience is the “western omelet” special a your local Applebees. Sure it’s delicious, but where’s the excitement? What has become of our country? I long for a simpler time. When banks could be robbed and draws at high noon settled disputes. No “rush hour.” No “traffic jams.” No “lawyers.” No “class action lawsuits.” No “sexual harassment in the workplace.” None of it! Just good ole fashioned men being men and women being there. The way it was and is meant to be.
Alas this is the dream of a hopeless romantic. But the good news is that in addition to the obvious solution of watching any western you can get your hands on, there are other means to preserve the feeling of a old west lifestyle. Here are my personal recommendations:
1. Rape and Pillage. Literally. You know how in movies you always the ‘badass’ say something along the lines of “when I see something I want, I take it.” So next time you’ve got your eye on your coworker’s stapler or wife, let your sense of entitlement take over and have your way with it/her.
2. Carry a Six-Shooter. That should be obvious. No man is truly a man unless he’s carrying weapons. And the more the better. A good rule of thumb is that if it doesn’t make a loud noise when you use it, it’s not a weapon (i.e. throwing stars - only cool during a “ninja phase”).
3. Go by a Nickname. For instance, if your name is Steve and you’re good at cards, you can be “Ace Sleeve Steve.” All the best legends of the Wild West had a nickname of some description. If you’re really lucky, your name is something like Stifle, Biskey, or Churder and the nickname is basically already done for you.
4. Ride a Horse. Anywhere and everywhere. Living in Washington, D.C. it’s more commonplace to see horses than most. Feel free to gun down any other man you see on horseback and take his horse back to your stable/garage.
5. Play Cards Nonstop. It really doesn’t matter where you are cause gambling is universal. From Saloons to bathroom stalls, no place is off limits. A word of caution though. Try to utilize a “home court advantage” so to speak by playing somewhere that you can easily mount a gun to the bottom of the poker table in case you lose the deed to your house and need to get out of a pinch.
Remember, nobody ever remembers the guys that pay taxes on time and stay faithful to their wives. When your heart beats no more, what will it say on your tombstone?
I’m off to Subway.. And Hell’s comin with me!!
God I feel like so much more of a man every time I say that... or “howdy”... or “fella.” I’ve been a huge western kick lately. It started with movies (3:10 to Yuma, No Country For Old Men, Tombstone, Brokeback Mountain), but now my hobby has become a full-fledged obsession. I’ve bankrupted myself on 10 gallon hats, spurs, saddle blankets and more spittoons than you can shake a stick at. Why I just spent all my money I saved from the summer of 2006, when I donated semen 3 days a week, on a pair of authentic Doc Holliday worn boots from ebay ($1,850).
But it’s not a waste - not to me. Think of the romance of it all. The worn wood creaking under your feet as each new hit of the heel of your boot strikes the plank announcing your presence as you make your way to the Saloon. Double swinging doors fling open as you take in the scene, peering across the room with squinted eyes. Evaluating, making sure there are no itchy trigger fingers because you never know, at any instant, a man may toss his table over with his knees and draw two 6 shooters from his hip, but not before you skin your own smokewagon and make a canoe out of his head. (Thanks Wyatt Earp).
You throw caution to the wind, pace on in, challenge men to card games and light a match with your beard stubble. You take slow, strong puffs off of your cigar to calm the nerves of your own itchy trigger finger. “Barkeep - fetch me a bottle of your strongest gut rot!”you say just before you drown out the screams of the men you’ve killed with a bottle of whiskey and a syphilis ridden local maiden. You awake, don’t consider showering, and ride off the next morning to your next bank heist or dentist appointment.
Ahh the “Wild West.” They didn’t call it that for nothing. Now the closest thing most have to that experience is the “western omelet” special a your local Applebees. Sure it’s delicious, but where’s the excitement? What has become of our country? I long for a simpler time. When banks could be robbed and draws at high noon settled disputes. No “rush hour.” No “traffic jams.” No “lawyers.” No “class action lawsuits.” No “sexual harassment in the workplace.” None of it! Just good ole fashioned men being men and women being there. The way it was and is meant to be.
Alas this is the dream of a hopeless romantic. But the good news is that in addition to the obvious solution of watching any western you can get your hands on, there are other means to preserve the feeling of a old west lifestyle. Here are my personal recommendations:
1. Rape and Pillage. Literally. You know how in movies you always the ‘badass’ say something along the lines of “when I see something I want, I take it.” So next time you’ve got your eye on your coworker’s stapler or wife, let your sense of entitlement take over and have your way with it/her.
2. Carry a Six-Shooter. That should be obvious. No man is truly a man unless he’s carrying weapons. And the more the better. A good rule of thumb is that if it doesn’t make a loud noise when you use it, it’s not a weapon (i.e. throwing stars - only cool during a “ninja phase”).
3. Go by a Nickname. For instance, if your name is Steve and you’re good at cards, you can be “Ace Sleeve Steve.” All the best legends of the Wild West had a nickname of some description. If you’re really lucky, your name is something like Stifle, Biskey, or Churder and the nickname is basically already done for you.
4. Ride a Horse. Anywhere and everywhere. Living in Washington, D.C. it’s more commonplace to see horses than most. Feel free to gun down any other man you see on horseback and take his horse back to your stable/garage.
5. Play Cards Nonstop. It really doesn’t matter where you are cause gambling is universal. From Saloons to bathroom stalls, no place is off limits. A word of caution though. Try to utilize a “home court advantage” so to speak by playing somewhere that you can easily mount a gun to the bottom of the poker table in case you lose the deed to your house and need to get out of a pinch.
Remember, nobody ever remembers the guys that pay taxes on time and stay faithful to their wives. When your heart beats no more, what will it say on your tombstone?
I’m off to Subway.. And Hell’s comin with me!!
posted by Max Rays at 12:27 PM
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