You should never meet your hero's feet.

So we did a lot of landmarks and touristy shit when we went to California. The Hollywood Sign. Beverly Hills. Grauman's Chinses Theatre.

I wanted to find the John Wayne Plaque. You know what is about there right? They put concrete out and the star puts his feet or his hands and signs it with a message to the guy who owned the joint. I looked and I looked but I couldn't find it.

On meeting your heroes

The wife and I were talking about autograph shows for some reason and she asked a great question. If I had a choice, who would I like to meet at a show or a Comic Con or something like that? It sort of took me aback. Because most of the people I would want to meet are dead.

We were talking about how many of the people who were on sit.coms or TV drama’s go to conventions and make a good living meeting and greeting fans who loved their shows. They bask in the love that these people have for their characters and even if they are long out of show business, they still make some coin. I think of people like Burt Ward who was Robin or Buzz Patrick who was Eddie Munster. They go to autograph shows every other weekend. Lisa has a friend who goes all the time and has tons of photos and stories about meeting some of these stars of yesteryear.

So, I came up with my top ten list. In reverse order

You're a Lying Dog Faced Pony Soldier!

Crazy Alzheimer's Patient Creepy Uncle Joe pulled another one. No not someone's finger.

He calls a voter who asked him a question that he didn't like a "Dog Faced Pony Solder!"

What the fuck?

What kind of insult is that anyway. I wish I was a pony soldier. Riding with the Duke and Ben Johnson and Hank Worden while we are shooting minorities and banging Maureen O"Hara. I guess he must have been listening to Elizabeth Warren. She said that was an old family curse that they used to use around the wigwam. Then I realized why he did that!

He plagiarized it.

The Duke knows what he is talking about

Angie Lowe: Anyway, I don't believe a dog can smell Indians. 
I mean, as different from anyone else. You and me, for instance.
Hondo Lane: Well they can. Haven't you ever been to a 7-11. As a matter of fact, Indians can smell white people.
Angie Lowe: I don't believe it.
Hondo Lane: Well it's true. I'm part Indian and I can smell you when I'm downwind of you.
Angie Lowe: That's impossible.
Hondo Lane: No, it isn't impossible, Mrs. Lowe. You baked today. I can smell fresh bread on you. Sometime today, you cooked with salt pork. Smell that on you, too. You smell all over like soap: you took a bath. And, on top of that, you smell all over like a woman. Or fish. Like a trout left out in the sun. I could find you in the dark, Mrs. Lowe, and I'm only part Indian.
(Hondo, 1953)