The Best Movie Ever (For 20 Minutes)

I have to agree with the nebbishy nerd who made this video. "Streets of Fire" is one of my all-time favorite films. It is a retelling of the classic John Wayne movie "The Searchers" with bikers replacing the Apache's. The music was composed by the great Jim Steinman who wrote every one of Meat Loaf's hits. In fact, if you love Meat Loaf's music then you love Jim Steinman. Directed by the best Western director since John Ford in the amazingly talented Walter Hill, this movie is a classic. The first twenty minutes and the last ten are amongst the best movies I have ever seen. Nobody could keep that up for an entire film. Nobody does. Yeah, it's pulp. But it is sublime pulp.

Do yourself a favor and rewatch it. You won't be dissapointed.

When you think you are the Duke but you are actually Hank Worden.

While the handfasting was going on I was filming it with my phone. I happen to have a phone case with a painting of the last scene of the Searchers where the Duke stands in the doorway of the house holding onto his arm.

As soon as the ceremony is over this dude rushes up to me to tell me he teaches film at a college and that he saw my phone case. He tells me that he always teaches the Searchers and that surprisingly his students actually pay attention to it and enjoy it unlike some of the other famous films he teaches. He then askes me if I know the significance of the pose and of course I told him it was a homage to Harry Carey who was a mentor to the young John Ford. He was a little nonplussed that I knew but we had a nice discussion about film so there was that.

The other thing that happened was that there were two dogs at the wedding. One was the overweight bulldog owned by the bride who wandered around and followed me all the time because he thought I might be dropping some food. I guess he figured that us fat fucks had to stick together.

The other dog was a rambunctious puppy who was running around all over the place. Everybody was trying to pet it or play with it but he was dashing around non stop until he was exhausted. Of course at the end of the night he comes over at sits at my feet. Actually on my feet and under my chair to go to sleep. You see animals love me. They always come over to hang out with me. I tell my wife that it is my calm spirit. You see I am saintly. Like St. Francis of Assisi. I'm a freaking saint I tell you.

I was just lucky that Winston didn't decide to sit on my feet.

Informers....they are sure different the they used to be.

One of the seminal works in the oeuvre of the great Director John Ford. Won best actor for Victor McLaglen and best director for Ford. A story of the IRA and an informer who sold out a patriot for money.

Gypo Nolan informs on a fellow IRA member for twenty pounds in order to use the money for passage to America for him and his streetwalker girlfriend. Of course being Irish he gets drunk and throws the money away buying drinks in a bar. The IRA gets wind of it and holds the trial you see in the clip. (Notice you can't be an IRA guy unless you have a cool trench coat) Eventually Gypo escapes but the IRA finds him and kills him.

Now we have a story of an informer. They call him a whistle-blower. A card carrying member of the Deep State who worked for that commie Brennan he made up a bogus statement based on second hand knowledge. He coordinated with the Intelligence committee staff and Congressman Shit for Brains and started the impeachment ball rolling. Everybody knows his name but we have to pretend that we don't because they claim his life is in danger.

Well we know it is not but it should be. Snitches get stitches.  We need him to testify under oath so everyone can see how he is part of the Deep State plot.

Then he should get the Gypo Nolan treatment.

They can even give him an Academy Award.

Posthumously.

Ladies of the West

She leaned back in her chair and adjusted her shawl over her ample bosom. Mr. Ford glanced at it appreciatively even though she was an old, old woman. He was a man made for appreciating women. No matter how old.  It was clear as the nose on her face. A nose so large that she was known as Big Nosed Kate to most. In the old days. The days he wanted to hear about.

Ford took a pipe out of his pocket. He absent-mindedly started to fill it with tobacco and lit it. I reckon he didn't think a little smoke would bother me. The ash tray full of butts must have been a clue.

“So Mr. Ford do we have a deal. I am willing to talk about those days and give you the true story. Not the one I have seen in the picture show. Where they make that Bastard Earp a Saint. He was far from that. Very far from that. What’s in it for me?”

“I can arrange a stipend for you Mrs. Cummings. Either a lump sum or a smaller monthly payment. It depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you have to tell.”

“Oh I have a lot to tell. You will get your money’s worth. Nobody was ever cheated by Big Nose Kate. You always got your monies worth. So before we palaver  I need to see the color of your money.”

“What do you expect Ma’am? That I put the money on your table? That seems sort of…I don’t know…crass.”

“Put it on the nightstand honey. It’s traditional. I told you. I’m a whore. I was Doc’s whore. Ringo’s. The Earp’s. More swinging dicks than I can count. I ain’t bashful. Show me how much you are putting there and I will tell you some of what you want to know.”

Ford stood up and reached into the front pocket of his tweed jacket. He took out a billfold and removed a $100 bill. He folded it and handed it to young McLemore who was hiding in the background trying to be quiet as a mouse so he would not miss anything. “Put it on the Lady’s nightstand Lad and leave us. I think Mrs. Cummings would like some privacy.”

“Call me Kate. All the boys did. At least the ones that paid me. Where do you want me to start?”

 “In the beginning if you would.”

Ladies of the West

Kate sat in her chair and stared out the window of her small room in the Arizona desert. She was a charity case now. The Pioneers home was where they kept the old fossils these days. Nobody much cared about them. They only cared about the War over in Europe and if we were going to be pulled into it. In 1940 Doc Holliday’s whore was old news.

Baszd szajba az anyadat! They did want her story for free. Some of these newspaper men tried to get her to talk about her life. For free. They should know a whore never does anything for free.

She knew she was a whore. Once she had dreams. When she married the dentist. Silas had been a good man. She had loved him and the baby they had. But the fever had taken them both and she was alone. So she turned to working on her back as it was the only occupation open to her at the time.

Life was strange. She took up with another Dentist. Doc. He didn’t practice much. In fact he was a pretty piss poor dentist. Still the times they had. Until it all turned to shit. Because of those god damned Earps.

There was a knock at the door. Soft. Tentative. She almost thought that she had dreamed it. Then it happened again.

“Who is it?”

“It’s John McLemore Mrs. Cummings. I wonder if we could have a word. I have someone I would like to introduce to you.”

A kurva istenit! What now! McLemore was the front desk clerk. She had to keep him sweet if she wanted anything. Like cigarettes or a newspaper. Baszd meg! She had to let him in.

“Come in. Come in.”

The weedy desk clerk came into the room ushering a tall man in tweeds wearing a slouch hat and an eyepatch of all things. He had a presence. Not like the old gunmen. Still and all he had something. He was a man. A man to be reckoned with. She would have fucked him.

“Mrs. Cummings I would like to introduce you to someone. This is a very famous Hollywood Director. Mr. John Ford. He wanted to meet you.”

Paths of Glory Two

Newspaper reporter: [speaking of Col. Thursday] But what of the men who died with him? What of Collingworth and...

Captain Yorke: Collingwood.

Newspaper reporter: Oh, of course, Collingwood.

Reporter: That's the ironic part of it. We always remember the Thursdays, but the others are forgotten.

Captain Yorke: You're wrong there. They aren't forgotten because they haven't died. They're living - right out there.

[points out the window]

Captain Yorke: Collingwood and the rest. And they'll keep on living as long as the regiment lives. The pay is thirteen dollars a month; their diet: beans and hay. Maybe horsemeat before this campaign is over. Fight over cards or rotgut whiskey, but share the last drop in their canteens. The faces may change... the names... but they're there: they're the regiment... the regular army... now and fifty years from now. They're better men than they used to be. Thursday did that. He made it a command to be proud of.

KLEM FM

Link in case the video doesn't play

Now if Troop would only write some alternative dialog for the movie, I could chirbitize it!