Get it on! Another da bomb of a Wild Western Web find! Michael Jackson as cowboy, circa 1977. *swoon*
Even through the anemic strains of a stoopit disco arrangement, you can discern the moves that made MJ great. Taking on the butch character of a cowboy/gunslinger, Michael Jackson’s dancing transforms classic western movie clichés into fetish objects. Check . . . → Read More: Get It On; or, Western Fetishes, from Michael Jackson to Appaloosa
Some days of Wild Western Web trolling yield zero results. Some yield perfect storms of epic perfection and all kinds of wonderful.
God bless the Cowboy, especially in an Italian theme park.
Cue Sauerkraut Cowboys.
Once I got the memory of the taste of pickled-ish cabbage from my mouth (avoiding sauerkraut most assiduously since I was a . . . → Read More: The Wild Western Web; or, Sauerkraut Cowboys and Le Far West
“Gimme a whiskey.”
Straight up. The man’s man manly drink.
Not milk (which got Destry roundly mocked by Marlene Dietrich in Destry Rides Again) or “soda pop” (which got Shane a fistful of trouble in Shane). And my god–no red wine (I got mocked for that in one little town–ever since then I only drink the best the . . . → Read More: The Drinks of Westerns; or, Wild Western Whiskey
Poor Real just wanted to see palm trees and movie stars. What Real got was Corpus Christi.
I’ve been there. Beautiful vistas and epic moments have sparkled like stars in my eyes and then been ground into affluvial dust in slogs up and down ridges with a laden pack and no trail and wondering if my urban . . . → Read More: Death Valley Daze; or, Just Abandon Hope Already
Here’s another vintage postcard, courtesy of Bob Heman. Its hokiness portrays one of the most desolate, awe-inspiring, and dangerous national parks in the United States, Death Valley. (Well, dangerous for the unobservant tourist who forgets water or relies solely on their car’s GPS system.)
For me the front symbolizes those postcard-selling havens of air-conditioning that . . . → Read More: Ten Feet from Hell; or, Tell It to the Vintage Postcard
There are those people who stand in the middle of fragrant sage or wide, billowing prairies,
amidst Joshua trees or whispering pines
and LIKE IT.
And then there are those who DON’T.
Poor Real. Probably missed the lawns and picket fences . . . → Read More: The Muse of the West, Too; or, Vintage Postcard Tells the Other Side
When I took my first step out West–off a Greyhound bus onto the soil of Colorado–I said, “No.”
No meant N-O to being a teacher there, to living there, to being part of its Flatirons and Rockies. It was the part of me that wanted the concrete canyons of New York (and still does). But like a . . . → Read More: The Muse of the West; or, Vintage Postcard Says It All
There are good saguaros and bad saguaros.
Good saguaros (in films) are those that highlight the epic awesomeness of a shot.
From an otherwise cardboardish Ten Wanted Men (1955), this scene features the grand stoic himself, Randolph Scott, amid the scattered saguaros above Old Tucson Studios–I mean Ocatilla. He is of the land, by the land, and for . . . → Read More: Classic Western Props; or, Saguaros Gone Wrong
Nothing says “West” like saguaro.
Leaving aside the buttes of Monument Valley, Carnegiea gigantea is the muse of Westerns. If a scene isn’t quite “Westy” enough, the director will prop up a Sonoran desert saguaro in the shot, even if the film is set in Chihuahuan desert Texas. (For you coastal elites, that would . . . → Read More: Classic Film Setting 3; or, Old Tucson and the Saguaro Pinup
Billy the Kid pardoned????
Say it isn’t so. He wouldn’t be the archetypal 1880s bad-boy outlaw anymore–that sexy beast who wants to be tamed, played by handsome hunks in 46 (no lie) silver-screen westerns.
If he is pardoned by New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson, it would be
a.) justice finally given to the young man who . . . → Read More: Pardon Me?; or, Clemency for Billy the Kid, 129 Years Later