Hey Rob the funnyman, I'm still posting!

Hey funnyman - I'm talkin' to YOU! Now go find a nice private place and do some "cow punching".....

Cowboy Henk

The Horrors Of It All have several nice examples of this cool absurdist comic.

Yee-Haw! Cowpokes "Lose" Leger Painting

Léger Painting Lost

Oklahoma- From Wikipedia:

"Major land runs, including the Land Run of 1889, were held for settlers on the hour that certain territories were opened to settlement. Usually, land was allocated to settlers on a first come, first served basis. Those who broke the rules (emphasis mine) by crossing the border into the territory before it was allowed were said to have been crossing the border sooner, leading to the term sooners, which eventually became the state's official nickname."

Now who their right mind would loan anything valuable to residents of a state that is proud of the fact that cheaters established it? I mean look at the musical, chicanery, knives in shoes it's not just bad, it's bad. In addition, they call northerners "Yankees" and many of them consider themselves southern (most notably Merle Haggard)despite them being a Western/Midwestern state, establish in the 20th century. The gypsies have a saying: "After shaking hands with an Oklahoman, count your fingers."

Luckily no Oklahoman has slept with my wife, but they probably have slept with yours. Think back - you know I'm right. Moving on- Leon Russell, prominent Oklahoman "rustled" the Bangladesh concert away from George Harrison as well as appropriating the Mad Dogs and Englishmen show from a pre-suckfest Joe Cocker - Oklahoman trickery again! Jim Thompson the great noir writer and Oklahoma transplant, tell story after story about cheating Hotel guests in Bad Boy, and draws a pretty grim picture of what to expect if you're an Oklahoma cowboy in King Blood....all learned from people in the land where the corn grows as high as an elephant's eye. Then he wrote The Grifters. Hmmmmmm....

Plus, Doctor Phil. No explanation necessary- right Britney?

Mark my words: Some var-mint is at this very moment eating a chicken fried steak while Woman and Child look on.....

Oh yeah, kidding, my OK buddies! Haw! Please note: I have at no time used the pejorative "Okie" to refer to y'all. Now put away yer six-shooter - you know I'm hotter than a road lizard!

Border Patrol

Okay, maybe I'm not Bibi, but I still am amazed at Archive.org as a resource. I'm reading Robert Mitchum - "Baby I Don't Care" by Lee Server, a bio of the undisputed king of calypso and sometime movie actor, most notably famous for his role as the killin' preacher in Night of the Hunter.

His first movie role was in Border Patrol, a Hopalong Cassidy film.

A couple of cool things:

When Mitchum arrived on the set, everyone was mourning an actor who had been killed the day before by having his head crushed under the wheels of a stagecoach he was driving in a scene. When Mitchum was issued his cowboy costume he noticed the interior of the hat was a little "crusty".... the prop man gave it a brushing and informed Mitchum it was the hat the dead man was wearing at the time of his fatal accident. Gruesome.

Server notes that the script was by Michael Wilson, who went on to write It's a Wonderful Life, A Place in the Sun, Bridge on the River Kwai Lawrence of Arabia and Planet of the Apes. Some list of hits, huh? Many of his scripts went uncredited because of a HUAC ban, and Server points to the content of Border Patrol- good guys busting up slave labor, as one of the contributing factors to his suspicion by the HUAC. Funny.

Lastly, and this is the coolest thing of all, it was there on Archive.org! You can own it for free...




Lastly, it's definitely a B movie, but the backstory's so cool it deserved a mention. Plus we don't charge and neither does archive.org.....

A Recommendation

Went on my annual pilgrimage to See Reverend Horton Heat last night, who put on a spectacular show as always, with an added "History of Music" that left one feeling as if the price of the ticket was well worth it.

I came to the conclusion that mosh pit people are basically unable to get laid. This is, in effect, moshing's raison d'etre- a sexstitute. They just have that look. A look that says, "I will somehow lack whatever it is you need to be attracted to in order to tryst." How the f*@k do you mosh to "Happy Camper"? Anyway, a bit of advice: when they come for you, lean in.

The real treat, for which, due to scheduling conflicts, we were only able to hear the last three songs of, was what I as of last night, consider to be possibly the greatest rock n' roll band ever: Nashville Pussy.
I felt like I dropped into a Robert Rodriguez film.

They were.......

Van-Tazdick.

Not only was the outrageousness turned up to 11, they were mixed well and tight. Others only hope to rock; Nashville Pussy is the touchstone for rocking. They could be the house band for House of 1001 Corpses, Kill Bill 3, and any other film with guts and elan you can imagine. The stage presence is amazing: stringy-haired trucker-hatted front man with two wild uber babes on guitar and bass, with a drummer that looked like he was ripped directly from the pages of an EC Comic. Here's their wiki, 'cos I still don't know who they are or anything. They're in Washington tonight, NYC tomorrow. GO. They're on first, like who, so get there early and don't make my mistake.

In the middle was Hank III and unfortunately, despite a great fiddler, slide guitar player, and bassist, it fell short - followed by the grandson of Hank Williams playing 45 minutes of non-sequituresque thrashmetalpunkyellingchants as their alter ego, Assjack. The first half's sound could've been at a casino (as my son so aptly put it) and the second half just was like a 200 decibel explanation of the rules of cricket. Don't get me wrong - there was a lot of good about his band, but Nashville Pussy pretty much killed them for me.

I was however mesmerized by two band members: The fiddler, who possessed an expression of such deep-seated glee at playing the fiddle, that I don't think you could find a happier more authentic looking country fiddler in all the picture books of country music in the universe. And the bass player- who provided an unrelenting kaleidoscope of asexually framed hatred, pain, confusion, hurt, indignance, and perverse introversion on his face - he was fascinating, and if I were casting a horror movie, this guy would have a job in about 5 minutes.

This picture doesn't even come close to the experience of him gesticulating wildly with obscene and/or hostile finger positions (like mudras of hate and pain and anger) while screaming profane epithets at the audience at the conclusion of a song....... Genius:



Last: Here's some images- the futility of phonecamming in that type of environment leads one to get all impressionistic as a way of salvaging them - first Nashville Pussy Followed by two Horton Heats:




But - OHHHHH! None are wallpapers - f#@*k it!

Frontera Violenta: El Todopoderoso

Mexcian Comic featuring loads o' whippin', punchin' & shootin' - brightly colored cactus drama with an dissapointingly Aryan protagonist.



Mira!

What's inside my brain today?

This pretty much sums up the core visual theme for me from my earlist childhood memories
-of smoke wafting off the pages of a flip book that had Roy Rogers firing his six-shooter - I swore it happened...
-of my sister preventing me from looking at the rainbow-colored box a plunger-style top came in, its compelling colors tractor-beaming my mind
-of the lady on Romper Room turning to me adressing me personally
-of flicker cards
-of little viewers that were junk
-of Kenner Give-A-Show
-of Viewmaster

YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED TO CLICK ON THIS PICTURE TO SEE THE BIG ONE. REALLY.


Know my brain. It's safe to do so.

Seen in Salt Lake City Airport Men's Room

I thought they were seat covers.....