Wednesday, January 28, 2009


There's a little RIFLEMAN in all of us.

Thursday, November 27, 2008


Much like the turkey, this lame duck's days are numbered.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


Remember, Mr. President-elect, there's only one Rifleman at a time.

Friday, November 21, 2008



Life gets pretty lonely out here on the range. Seldom anyone to talk to, much less any kind of entertainment. That's why I was so delighted when I recently discovered a parcel from an old trail mate in the post. Inside, The Delirious Fictions of William Klein. The fine folks at Eclipse have released a boxed set containing the three fiction films of noted shutterbug and expat filmmaker William Klein. All of ‘em are worth a watch. But my favorite by far is Mr. Freedom, Klein’s ferocious satire of American foreign policy in the 1960s (and, by extension, the 1980s and the early 2000s).

It’s impossible not to laugh at the wild, amped-up buffoonery as uber-American superhero Mr. Freedom becomes a one-man occupying force to rid France from the red Commie scourge. But every laugh comes with an uncomfortable pang of recognition. One can’t help but see George W. Bush as the titular red, white, and blue clad bubba, his unhealthy idealistic balance of jingoism and xenophobia threatening to destroy everything he professes to defend.

In this so-called year of change, Klein's poisonous cynicism is almost enough to knock the idealism right out of you by bolstering the distressing old adage "the more things change, the more they stay the same." In four decades, it’s only the style and not the substance of Mr. Freedom that has aged. Its trenchant humor remains thoroughly current. While recent events suggest that America just had a collective laugh at Mr. Freedom in all his incarnations, I'm pretty sure Klein, like me, is a "see-it-to-believe-it" kind of guy.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone

For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win

For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls

For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand

For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last

For the times they are a-changin'.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


The sun may rise in the east, but it sets in the west. That’s where I spend most of my time, and I’ve been privy to more than my fair share of staggering sunsets. Yesterday, as I watched that blood red ball of fire once more melt the sky before descending into slumber, I realized that I’ve been waiting to see that sunset for a long, long time. And in all my years, I’ve never been so nervous to see a sunrise as I am this morning.

Yet there it is, a pale yellow sliver peaking over the distant hills. The sun is rising in America once again.

Wake up, fellow rangers. There’s work to do today.

Monday, November 3, 2008