There is a funny thing about me. I am addicted to old western movies. I love John Wayne and Audie Murphy’s movies. I also like Gary Cooper and Glenn Ford. Perhaps my favorite western of all time is Gregory Peck’s The Big Country. In that particular picture, Peck is a man who seems out of place but is very much aware of his surroundings. And he kicks Charlton Heston’s gun toting ass to boot. My second favorite has to be Stagecoach with the Duke.
Please keep in mind that I watch these movies over and over again. I always root for the Indians but they never win. I keep thinking about it as a comprehensive immigration control plan. But it is what it is. What really bothers me is the fact that in all of the shoot outs, the so called American’s always shoot the Indians but never the horse. What’s up with that?
Keep in mind that whenever an Indian gets shot, the horse always falls down but gets right back up either making his way back to camp or dragging an Indian to his impending doom. Is this a testament to the marksmanship of the Calvary Soldiers or the horse’s uncanny ability to dodge bullets? I would suggest that it is the latter.
You see, I was given a horse at an early age by an overly generous Godmother. The horse that I named Kemosabee was an ornery son of a Philly. After biting me repeatedly trying to give him sugar cubes and carrots, I tried to bust a cap in his ass. And wouldn’t you know it, I never came close to hitting his ornery ass. Just like in the movies, the horse had mystical powers and could not be shot.
But I finally got my revenge on Kemosabee, I got him loaded onto a truck and shipped off to a dog food factory. In what must be described as bad Karma, Kemosabee got his revenge. I fed my dog a can of Alpo and Tonto started to bite me every chance he got… I wonder if I can get him deported.