Dead As A Beaver Hat

When I was a kid, I didn’t just watch John Wayne movies—I entered into them. When The Duke mounted a horse, I could smell the saddle leather. When he walked into a bar, I caught the smells of booze and fear in the room. When he drew his gun, I’d duck. I used to lie on my stomach for hours, chin propped up in my hands, watching that gunslinger be his own man. Nobody bossed him around. Nobody stopped him from doing what was right. Nobody got between him and his conscience. … [Read more...]