Western Watchins Week 47
A quickie can be fun. You don’t always have time to lay out rose petals or spend eight hours going Tantric unless you’re Sting and then you know you’ve got all the time in the world because Kyle MacLachlan won’t stab you until right around the year 10,191 (that joke makes sense on only one planet in the entire universe!) So spicing up your life with some speed sessions is a great idea and let me tell you this applies to both sex and Westerns. And I guess light meals and workouts too. Oh and showers. A quick, refreshing shower always helps you feel better. Holla!
With every application of acceleration in our feverishly blurred lives we speed further and further away from our collective past and a brief little black and white ditty like Black Hills Ambush can serve to show us where we came from and where we can go from here if we choose. Sometimes I don’t know where I’m headed with these reviews. Most of the time really. All of almost every time actually. Psychoanalysis and soapbox sermons seep onto the page and then the hilarity tends to suffer. Or skip the honest introspection, because I know these ain’t so much reviews as they are my usually immediate gut deep reactions to a particular film oft devoid of technical merit or art house huff and puff, but skip the critical thinking and Rango gets buried under a mound of shit and dick jokes. And shit covered dick jokes. And Rango doesn’t deserve that. Hooded Angels and The Wild Bunch do but not Rango and not most others neither. So it’s a fine line I tread amigos in literature and life. Shooting from the hip is a pretty satisfyingly sanguineous way to get through every day whether that day leads to heaven or hell or little bits of both. It’s not perfect, never perfect, but it’s mine. I own it. Lock, stock and proverbial barrel. And I’m healthier despite the risks I reckon. Gotta kick hard and ride fast, like this new hero of mine.
That’s Allan Lane and his horse Black Jack. That’s also Allan “Rocky” Lane and his horse Black Jack. What do I mean? Well, from what I can gather Allan Lane found his fame in B-movie sagebrush sagas as himself. Starring in what may be the very definition of a “shit-ton” of films he wasn’t Allan “Rocky” Lane playing such and such or who and who. He was Marshall Rocky Lane, Sheriff “Rocky” Lane and holy fuckmyface it’s plain old Rocky Lane! This cat was so cool he didn’t need a role he just showed up on his trusty steed and started firing off rounds and instantly classic one liners. Like this one he never said:
“Hey nugget, hold my sack while I go kick it up in that bandit’s asshole!”
The crazy thing? That old dude was really named “Nugget”! And although Rocky didn’t exactly say “asshole” he did kick, here we go again, shit-tons of it in just fifty two minutes. Can this guy land a punch? Does a bear shit on your mom’s face in the woods after he’s left her filled with grizzly creampie? FUCK YES HE CAN PUNCH!
Two man-made objects are visible from space. The Great Wall of China and Rocky Lane’s goddamn balls. And while a quick fact check will reveal that the whole “Great Wall from space” thing is a lie nothing can be found to debunk the fact I know in my heart to be true, that Rocky’s awesome balls were exactly that big. In Black Hills Ambush you will see him dodge bullets, save a troubled youth, tell a joke, solve a mystery, ride like the wind (on his buddy Black Jack!) and use his fists to pummel anyone who gets in his way. Look here as he prepares to makes a man eat his own dick all in the name of rough justice!
And rough justice is really the best kind. But like I said he has a sensitive side too. He’s not all fists and fury. Like here when he and his young ward invented the “Reverse Dutch Rudder.
So maybe he is just all fists and fury but would you expect any less from a guy named “Rocky” playing himself ad infinitum? Plus I don’t fault any man for using his fists anyhow long as he’s not hurting anyone. Anyone who doesn’t deserve to eat his own dick of course. And in case you still had any doubts about the fucking awesome factor of one Allan “Rocky” Lane allow me to educate you real good like. Class is in session and this sumbitch was Red Ryder!
This mother fuckin’ Red Ryder!
Side-note: that blue Indian on the left in the poster looks like a quizzical Navajo raised Gerber baby! Back on task! Allan “Rocky” Lane was not only himself annnd Red Ryder but he was none other than the voice of Mr. Ed.
Je-he-he-sus Christ Wilber! Mr. mother fucking Ed! Though he never was credited with the role when it first aired as he thought it was beneath him (until it became a huuuuuuuuge hit) it just can’t be an anymore perfect cap to your cowboy career to go down as the one of the most beloved TV critters of all time. So class dismissed. I’ll bet you learned a thing or two even between all the dicks and shit.
And I learned (or re-learned or just remembered) from this week’s watchin’ that short can indeed be so very sweet. 4 rounds in the cylinder for Black Hills Ambush. Black and white honestly bores me to tears most of the time but a few have surprised me and none more than this one. I was ready to grin and bear it through an hour of what I felt assured would be torture but this just goes to show I don’t know everything. I finished my dinner and kicked back on the floor like a kid in front of cartoons and for a time I was a kid again. Plastic six-gun on my hip and adventure in my heart. Life goes by way too quick and sometimes all we can manage to grab are the brief moments. Never let a one slip by. The story of your life is written in both grand chapters and solitary words. Both can be impressively meaningful. And both are waiting for you right now.
Ride on amigos.
And always ride true.