Archive for September, 2013
If you head south out of Tucson and continue driving across the goddamn great state of Arizona it’s hard not to feel the mysterious, silver mine magnetism of a certain town called Tombstone. It got its name from a movie way back in nineteen ninety and three. And if you believe that you can suck my dick because you’re probably blond, hot, have nice boobs and are good at sucking dick. But seriously, suck my dick! Even more seriously if you haven’t seen the movie inspired by “The Town Too Tough to Die” take a moment to go and fuck yourself! It’s an amazing movie based on an even more amazing place that has admittedly seen bigger but I wouldn’t say better days. Any day spent in a historically laden Wild West location is a balm to the soul and should be filled with laughter, whiskey and respect.
Plus there’s still a lot to do in Tombstone despite its boom going bust back in the late 1880s and besides fine food and drink there’s an abundance of entertainment to be had in the name of satisfying the now predominantly tourist driven local economy. It’s like Disneyland with dusty streets, dirty whores and dagnasty gunslingers on every corner and for my money the best show in town is the Helldorado Town Gunfights located at 4th and Toughnut inside Helldorado Town Western Theme Park. Here’s the surly sonsabitches who won’t really shoot at ya’ but will end up leaving you in stitches nonetheless.
One them is probably drunk, the other one certainly is and that other guy doubled Val Kilmer’s Doc Holliday! Who is who? Shit, I don’t know…I was also drinking. Which makes everything better in my humble opinion (and also in fact). Another point of non dispute is that Helldorado Town will have you conjuring up nostalgic feelings of heading to your local carnival all kid-like ‘cuz admission is free and all the things to do (including a shooting gallery, jailhouse and mini-golf course) cost just a few bucks here and there. And take this from a guy who’s gone to see the “official” re-enactment at the O.K. Corral, any dollar spent on this show or tipping the actors afterwards is terribly well spent as the Helldorado Town Gunfights are worth every penny and then some while “The Main Event” at the Corral as they call it is about as much fun as having a badger rape your face. And for all those badger balls in your mouth there’s not even any audience participation unless you count the paramedics taking away everyone who died of boredom. The boys in Helldorado Town do it right and get you involved from the get- go. Just look at this fine piece of saloon girl sassiness they brought down to bring some justice.
That’s Angie my wife up there with the Kyle my hetero life mate. They’re both handsome creatures plus both are accomplished actors so I’m not the only one with a throbbing erection at the moment right?
Something else you can do with your sweaty hands is gun spinning.
And this guy here is good. Real good. As in a lifetime of movie stunt work good. He carries off casual with ease yet still somehow subtly conveys this aura of badassery that tells you if shit were for some reason really going down you’d want this guy on your side. Unfortunately he was the bad guy but that didn’t scare our intrepid marshal one bit… because he just had Angie face the guy down instead.
Either that or he just wanted her to touch his gun instead of me. Why not me Kyle? Is it because of the badger Kyle? It didn’t matter in the end anyway as Angie just winged the desperado on a ricochet so another duel to the death was headed our way. Right after the good marshal jerked off the Invisible Swordsman.
Alright, that didn’t happen (or I don’t think it was happening) but the plot still thickened. Once the law left to go nurse a hangover Terry Bellefleur from True Blood showed up dressed as a miner.
Accusations were then made about a stolen piece of ass. He is a miner after all and does need his mule but sadly his pick ax was no match against a pistol and the marshal’s liver was no match for how much he’d had to drink that afternoon.
So without giving away who wins it was the good guys yo! (Sorry, just got into Breaking Bad…yo!)
Why would I reveal the ending? Why would I do such a thing? Besides the fact they run several versions of the show it still doesn’t matter if you already know the outcome because you will enjoy every minute of this performance. Ang and I saw it last year and made a point to drive back down and see it again once we returned to the AZ. It is that fun and even informative if you pay attention. Billed as “hysterically accurate” it’s apparent even between the jokes, slapstick and mild innuendo that those involved have a passion for not just the stage but for our rich history as well. And when it was all said and done, I was first in line like the giddy twelve year old pretend cowboy that I am to get a picture with the cast.
And Ang was right there with me. By the way, if you’re mesmerized by the eyes it’s not just you. I mean the beard is a bit off putting (and Angie’s boobs are way nicer) but damn!
Now, if you’ve ever felt the Call of the West you will undoubtedly make the pilgrimage to Tombstone at some point in your life. With any luck and a good portion of providence I’ll be back for many more adventures myself before that final sunset comes down the trail. And whenever those adventurous times come I’ll be sure to visit the Helldorado Town Gunfights, gun slung showbiz at its finest. 6 rounds in the cylinder this week for one damn pleasing production.
To everyone involved there with keeping the spirit of the Old West alive I tip my hat and raise my glass. Most wait for the next iPhone like unsatisfied vultures, texting and Facebooking the hours away between clawing for whatever it is the Joneses have to make themselves feel worthy and alive. Me? I walked past Boot Hill Cemetery, across boardwalks a hundred years old and dined at the Crystal Palace Saloon with pals. I wandered a timeless town as both the daylight and the triple digits dissipated sharing in more toasts than I can remember. I breathed in deep that feeling your’re right where you belong even if you’re a century or so late. The mines might have run dry, or rather a bit too wet, but the American Southwest still holds so much worth. That’s my idea of livin’. And as long as I can ride it, I will. And me and mine will always ride true.
Thanks my Arizona amigos, for doing the same.
Reddish muscles ache
Exertion means suffering
Growing hurts a lot
Quick note…this didn’t auto-post so here I am doing it by hand. Which is fine as I just got back from a 7 hour ride deep into the Sonoran Desert ergo this review is even more fuckin’ awesomely cowboy legit. Enjoy.
Australia is an exotic and beautiful land located somewhere near the Shire if I remember correctly. It’s green and a lighter green and also tan in some areas according to this map.
And if Mad Max taught us anything it’s that everyone there will try to rape you to death and steal your water. But that’s all in the future (and then only if Tina Turner ends up running the place) so it’s a good thing Quigley Down Under takes place in the kinder, gentler past. A past where almost everyone tries to rape you to death and steal your water. Note the subtle difference. And this one is different. It’s a Western set about a far as you could get from the American West. Exit Cactus, enter this guy!
He’s like the Ron Burgundy of the animal kingdom and a reflection of the natural gorgeousness and unfettered machismo than runs rampant all over the Outback. So if we’re gonna send some Yank on a field trip to the Land of Oz we had better choose wisely as the home of Crocodile Dundee, Hugh Jackman and Zartan does not suffer fools. Enter a man who’s one part tough guy, one part comedian and 100% mustache: Tom Selleck.
Yeah, I couldn’t find a good full shot of Matthew Quigley I felt was properly representative of the full rigidity of my erection when thinking of just how much manliness was injected into the role so I went with Magnum. Just imagine him with a cowboy hat and you’ll be fine. Something I was not when I inadvertently stumbled onto a picture of Mr. Selleck clean shaven which is kind of like watching two virgins have sex. It’s uncomfortable because you know how it should be but it’s all gone horribly wrong and all you can do is sit back and hope it gets better with time.
Some of us are destined for that sexy grass grin and some of us are not. Just like some of us are destined to be crazy bitches. Like this crazy bitch!
That’s Crazy Cora and she is. Very much so. She’s played incredibly well by Laura San Giacomo who’ll you remember as the girl from that show you can almost also remember. She’s surley but also sweet. And it’s that important journey this character takes over the course of the movie that reminds us all that under that gruff exterior, past that smack-you-upside-the-head visage, beyond the terribly traumatized mental state there’s a very real and very vulnerable soul with huge tits!
Heart! A huge, compassionate heart is what I meant to say. Right after I said “tits”. Gentlemen, at the risk of sounding sexist I will assert here and now that it is entirely possible, and in my opinion entirely necessary, to find a woman both booty-ful and benevolent. If you do, count yourself among the most blessed to ever walk this mortal plane and remind her of that fact as often as you can.
See, being on this dirt ball ain’t that fun at times but a big heart behind a big bosom goes a long way to smoothin’ out the rough spots. And speaking of dirt ball rough spots, Alan Rickman!
Before he retired to teach at an exclusive school in England he was actually an actor and a damn good one at that. Some would argue that he’s just a “character” actor but if that character is deliciously fucking evil who gives a shit? And I may have just given away a plot point but c’mon, Alan “deliciously fucking evil” Rickman. It’s like when Clancy Brown shows up in anything you know immediately he’s the bad guy. He could be playing Mother Teresa and you’d be all” bitch is gonna kill someone I just know it!”Evil! And Rickman’s double and death dealing ranch owner, Elliot Marston, is so very evil in an almost hard to watch way as, even though he’s about 8,000 miles from our Wild West, he seems to sum up all that was wrong about our own expansion.
Quigley Down Under was in and out of production for years before finally reaching the silver screen in 1990 and perhaps one of the most important incidents to come out of the delay was the return of what had become a meandering, over the top treatment to a grittier and more historically based presentation. Not that Matt Quigley was a real dude but Aborigines were/are and they got screwed over in much the same way as the Native Americans did. I’m not very well versed in Aussie history but I imagine it could be boiled down like this.
Aboriginal Dude: “Welcome to our land.”
English Dude: “Fuck you mate it’s our land now mother fucker!”
So our story finds the natives getting shot all to shit. That’s when our hero enters whose shooting is the shit!
It’s true, ruggedly handsome boob beacon and boner begetter (or is that just me?) Matthew Quigley is awesome with a rifle. To be more specific he’s goddamn fucking awesome with an 1874 Sharps Buffalo Rifle seen above as Alan Rickman looks on with a note of concern on his face that says either “this Quigley could be trouble” or “I hope no one can tell I have a boner” or both! The Sharps Buffalo Rifle is legendary and deserves every mote of it’s ass leveling repute.
Note the meat sack above flying end over end from a hundred yards out after he mouthed off about Higgins being a bitch or something. The Sharps is powerful, in trained hands it’s downright divine. This man and that rifle become the biggest burr in the saddle for our pistol packed baddies and a glint of hope for all the outgunned locals. And Cora. Who despite being crazy grows on both Quigley and the viewer. Which all leads this extremely southern celluloid toward one of the most satisfying and decisive conclusions to any conflict since we bombed the Japanese!
5 rounds in the cylinder for Quigley Down Under. Simon Wincer directed this one and then went on to direct Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man and then lost a bet and made Free Willy but forget about that last part and watch this one. It’s epic without getting too serious and it makes some points along the way but also makes you laugh. A rare blend of so many interesting and necessary things very much like the country in which it takes place. This flick might seem lost to history between Silverado and Tombstone but like any treasure it’s well worth the hunt.
Go and get it.
That stands for Quigley and whatever you want out of life as well. Don’t wait amigo, this ride is over far too soon. Saddle up, get on the trail and ride.
And as always ride true.
Graveled steps crunching
First steps of our new future
Stop dreaming and go
Disappointment. I’ve gone to the movies a few times in my life and found it filled with disappointment. Top of my head there’s Alien 3, Ultraviolet and every Star Wars prequel. Beyond just a bad day at your local theater, these failed on a monumental, almost cellular, level due to the fact they all had so much going for them. It seemed that they were slam dunks to entertain and excite without even trying. But they didn’t. Not even close. In fact the opposite. They were abject fucking failures right up there with New Coke and the Obama presidency. Dismal and dispirit movies such as these are especially upsetting cause they renege on the promises that their trailers and our preconceived notions came up with.
So The Wild Bunch, I believe it’s loosely based on that time I had food poisoning and sat fevered on a toilet evacuating every meal I’d consumed since the 2nd grade from both my ass and my face. I wished I was dead. Both when I was watching The Wild Bunch and crapuking all over myself. I’d heard so many good things about this classic like “one of the best casts ever assembled”, “edgy, dark, ahead of it’s time” and even “the greatest Western of all time”. A listless, soulless, meaningless mess like this deserves words but not praiseworthy ones. How do you fuck up Ernest Borgnine, William Holden and a live action John Marston?
Making The Wild Bunch is a pretty good start. This iconic scene summed up all the suck for me. A scene might I add that was improvised (much to the jizzlarity of “critics” everywhere). Here our remaining Bunch members head to one final confrontation. For what purpose? Ah…um…revengeanceing I guess? I couldn’t honestly tell you because the movie barely explains it and I barely cared to follow along enough when it did. Our “heroes” are assholes just like everyone else in the movie except for the whores and that one old guy. We’ll get to him in a minute but first back to a showdown finale, and actually the entire rest of the movie, that would have given Kierkegaard and Nietzsche lifelong boners.
Basically this movie makes The Boy in the Striped Pajamas look comedic. And at least in that one you knew clearly who the bad guys were. This one, not so much. Moral ambiguity is supposedly one of the great thematic accomplishments of this film but I never did drink that particular flavor of Kool Aid they were serving and that’s coming from a guy whose favorite Clint Eastwood movie is High Plains Drifter wherein said drifter whips, rapes and dynamites his way through an entire down! I applaud his efforts while standing very nearly aghast at the Bunch’s exploits including the killing of innocents or just using them as meat shields so someone else can do it for them. It’s one long goddamn mess so by the time you mark off it’s entire running time of just over “way too fucking long” and just shy of “fuck this movie to Hell for ever and ever amen” you’re kind of hoping that the ending will bring some explanatory revelation. It’s not there FYI so no need to look too hard for it. None of The Wild Bunch amounts to anything. But what about that cool train robbery?
What about it? It was there I guess but like every other moment in this film that’s as far as it went. Every build up just led to a let down. It’s a handjob that goes on way to long and just starts to rub you raw by the end of it all. And then it grabs salt instead of lotion and keeps on rubbing. And then you make this face.
That’s Sykes. Here he is in that scene when he shoves a whole ant hill up his own ass. And then lights it on fire because that would be more enjoyable than watching The WIld Bunch! Ant/ass joke-truths aside, for me Sykes held the one bright spot in this entire film. He was telling some dudes to go to Hell. I pretended it was the producers. He also laughs uncomfortably, a lot. But so doe everyone. Once again seemingly for no reason or at least poorly written ones. Shit like:
Bunch Guy #1: “I shot that kid but I got some gold.”
Bunch Guy #2: “Life’s so empty…dead kids…gold…”
Bunch Guy #4: ” Remember that clown that could such his own dick? HAHAHAHAHhHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAROFLROFLROFLROFLROFLFUCKINGFUCKTARDROFL!”
And all the while Bunch Guy #3 is dealing with the murder of his father by drinking and screaming in the middle of a fiesta as everyone else continues to laugh like a huge bag of retards.
The Wild Bunch is the Waiting for Godot of Westerns. I had looked so forward to it and in the end there was simply nothing to look at. It’s vacuous, it pissed me off (yet somehow bored me) and it gets 1 rusty round that I’ll bet you is a dud. No good guys, grey guys or even cool bad guys just a lethal litany of piece of shit guys (and girls!) Even the ketchup colored fake as shit “blood” all over everyone couldn’t cover up the fact this is a puffed up, overwrought and, quite honestly, piss poor excuse for a Western. Real blood wouldn’t have mattered though I reckon, this thing never had a heart to begin with.
But you take heart amigos. Ups and downs, twists and turns, abundance and desolation…they’re all part of the ride. So keep on riding and ride true.