Jango Fett vs. Obi-Wan Kenobi HD

Hey Chief (2)

   
   "Hey Chief (2)"
    
   Paul piloted his CRF 250 Honda, a dual sport cycle to the edge of a cliff in his native Arkansas; next, he cranked the motor off, unseated himself, and looked around at the animal-haunted nature of his woodland scenario, spotting the Totem of a fleeing skunk.  A lonely barber, having embraced dandyism, yet as redneck as they make them, putting some chaw inside his oral cavity and giving it a big spit, wishing he had a bottle of Southern Comfort; also, the respect of people--well, at least Mexicans hadn't thieved away his job; still, nobody respected a Caucasian barber.
   He figured that he should lose the mustache and shirts with a collar, unless they were flannel, but that would prove only the regularity of normality.  After all, what do they say in these back-wood hills he knew: "It's freaking Arkansas fella--same shit happens."  

The Man from Laramie (1955)

   
   "The Man from Laramie (1955)"
   
   Snowing in Nashville/Franklin area today--a dreary day; thus, just watched The Man from Laramie starring James Stewart with Mom and step-dad--it was awesome!  Double talk, repeating rifles, Apache, a mystery; plus, a beautiful girl that never gets kissed, for Jimmy Stewart is a true gentleman--he's got couth.  
   Having seen Day of the Evil Gun (1968) starring Glenn Ford at my Pap's house when I was a teenager, I figured there could be no better Western; at the same time, when I saw Silverado starring Kevin Kline in 1985  during a vacation to Colorado years before, I figured the same thing, at that particular flux of time.  Next, Tombstone starring Kurt Russell lit me on holy fire, but truly--The Man from Laramie is the freaking metaphorical bomb concerning an unwanted anti-hero doing his best to solve a crime, stay alive, and remain as innocent as a dove.  It lassoed my lonely heart.  

Cloudsong

Hey Chief (1)

   
   "Hey Chief (1)"
   
   Paul didn't like the feeling of arousal, not since youth.  Felt like toxic slime in his pants.  He had overcome his desires, morphing frigid without being cruel, yet standing up for the weak, when necessary, and washing like Tobias.  
   Paul was a barber.  Had a fancy mustache, like Tesla and Proust--those dudes could pass as brothers, though one wore a fur coat--go figure.  Too, Paul was Catholic, and took it to the next level of intensity, being an ascetic with a fondness for dipping; next, giving it a redneck spit, so uncouth, but his only non-dandy habit.  
   He had a friend that owned his own perversion--Trevor.  He liked Trevor cause Trevor was totally honest.  Dude would tell you he was a fink; hence, a nice fella--in Paul's opinion.
   So, Trevor was in the barber's chair and Paul was giving him an elegant Errol Flynn haircut.  It was a nice day to be dandy.  

The Millenium Falcon Escapes Tatooine [1080p]

Umbrage over watching football

   
   "Umbrage over watching football"
   
   On 1/20/1980 I cried and became as annoyed as an angry baby when Vince Ferragamo and the Rams lost to the Steelers--even though born in Pittsburgh, due to the fact that the Steelers had beaten the Cowboys (my team) twice in the big game; thus, I had no choice but to hope for the Steelers to lose, and that was stupid on my part.  Ferragamo played a great game, and as my mother calmly explained:  "They get paid tons of money, and they're more unhappy for losing than you."
   My biological father, a hardcore Steelers fan, once pulled a bathroom sink out of the wall after the Steelers lost a game, according to my mother.  Just don't get pissed if your team loses.  Those dudes are filthy rich, and most of us have nothing in comparison.  Just enjoy the game, pray that every player does their best with their God-given talents, and eat some cheese dip.  That's all you can do.