GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #750: WESTERN THEMES

 You all know I love westerns. Many of you know I also like punk music. It should surprise none of you that the Dead Kennedys version of "Rawhide" is in regular rotation in my life. I was listening to it the other day in my car when I thought, why don't we have more awesome covers of western TV theme songs?

Gunsmoke can't be done. There aren't any words to the theme. But I think a prime candidate would be Have Gun, Will Travel. I feel like there should be a metal version of this one. Maybe Megadeth could do it? I know Mustaine is a fan. They already a song called "Have Cool, Will Travel." I could see them doing a version of that song.

Maverick would be a lot trickier. Punk and metal wouldn't be able to do it justice. It's a bit more lighthearted than the others, so maybe hard rock? Here's an unconventional idea for this one. I think Sammy Hagar could do it. It's got to be someone who likes to party but doesn't like to get dark. Something a bit laid back. He fits the bill, I think.

Anyway, your thoughts? (And before you start thinking about classic SF shows from that time period, look no further than Monster Magnet. They get to do all of them.)

PS: If you're interested in the Dead Kennedys version of "Rawhide," here's a nice behind the scenes look at recording it.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #125: THE FENIAN BROTHERHOOD

Watching the Fenian episode of MAVERICK earlier this week reminded me that one of my ancestors was a Fenian. Nicholas D. Shannon, born in Ireland, moved to America, where he became a Chicago police officer. In his obituary, it says, "He was always an intense Irish Nationalist, belonged to the MacManus Circle, and the company of the Fenian Brotherhood, and went with the Fenian regiment to Canada at the time of O'Neill's invasion in 1866." Their mission was to take Canada by force and exchange it for Irish independence. They tried this three times.


So yeah. That episode wasn't fucking around. The Irish really did try to invade Canada. Weird, huh?


As a side note, his son was also a Chicago cop, and he wound up getting injured severely at the Haymarket Riot. The police report says that he received a "bullet wound in the back, [and] seventeen shell wounds in the lower part of both legs." It caused him pain for the rest of his life, which would turn out to be 12 years.


History is full of surprises like this. You never know what lurks in your family tree. Before this turns into a commercial for ancestry.com, I think I'm going to call it a night. Goodnight, fuckers.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #99: THINGS I DID TODAY INSTEAD OF WORKING

OK, so I had to go to a retina specialist today to make sure I wasn't going blind. My eye doctor said that he saw something that might be diabetic retinopathy, which eventually leads to blindness, so you can imagine the fear involved in going to the specialist. Luckily, the guy told me he saw nothing to indicate diabetic retinopathy, so it all worked out. However, it took me three hours to get that answer. Plus, they put a lot of drops in my eyes because I wasn't dilating properly. This took such a chunk out of my day that I might as well have not been off from work, since I didn't have a lot of free time to do things I wanted to do, namely write my ass off. It's hard to write with dilated eyes. I'd say it's near impossible. By the time clock I had in my head, the drops should have worn off by eight, and I could get to work. It wound up lasting a lot longer.


But never mind that. All of this happened in the afternoon and evening. When I woke up, I felt amazing. I had this whole day to myself, and it's only the first day of the week I have away from work. What did I do instead of working today?


Well . . . I had a couple of drinks, just to show the world that I could enjoy alcohol--strictly prohibited in the office--when I should have been at work. Then I looked at very questionable websites, which led to me jerking off a couple of times. Oh, how glorious it was to fuck around doing unimportant things when all of my coworkers were slaving away!


And then I watched MAVERICK while eating lunch. I washed up. I got some reading in before I had to go to the retina specialist. But goddammit, those first few hours when I woke up today were fabulous. I won't be doing that tomorrow, because I have a lot of shit to do, but just to do it ONE day was incredibly satisfying.


Hey! I'm 99 GF's into this thing. The 100th post will be something special. Maybe it will be tomorrow, if I'm not too busy. You'll definitely want to read the next one, though. It will be about my grandfather, and I know how you guys all love him.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #74: ERIC FLEMING

Those of you who have followed me a long time know that GUNSMOKE and MAVERICK have had a major influence on not just my writing but also my life. There are a few others, namely HAVE GUN-WILL TRAVEL and WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE, but there is yet another . . .


RAWHIDE is one of the best written western TV shows in history. It's not my favorite, but I have to admit that a lot more writing went into these episodes than any other show, at least in the first five seasons. After that, things went downhill, even though there were still great episodes.


That's not what I'm here to talk about, though. I want to discuss the unsung hero of RAWHIDE: Eric Fleming.


Most of you know me from my horror writing, so I'm pretty sure you'll mostly recognize Fleming from his work in a movie called CURSE OF THE UNDEAD. It was one of the very first Weird Western movies EVER. It was shit. I'm sorry, but it was. Yet it was the first outing of one of my favorite sub-genres.


To those of you with longer memories, you'll remember Fleming as the star of RAWHIDE. He played Gil Favor, trail boss. Clint Eastwood was equally billed, but let's face it. He was second fiddle to Fleming, the real star of the show for seven seasons.


Again, that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about Fleming, not Favor.


I knew he'd had a shitty life, but I didn't realize how shitty it was until I read the recent history of RAWHIDE by David R. Greenland. But before I get into that, let me give you my impression of Fleming as Favor.


When I was a kid, I hated him. I always sided with other drovers because I thought he was being unfair. He's the boss, and fuck him. But . . . watching the series as an adult, I understand him a lot more. Yes, he was stern, but he had very good reason to be. If he couldn't get these crazy drovers into line, he would never succeed at getting these steers to market. As an adult who wants to succeed at things, I totally get that. Fleming had the right stuff when it came to portraying a firm leader. He had a human side, but he didn't tolerate disobedience. He was fair, but he didn't let shit go. You had to do what he commanded, or you were out. Fair enough.


Fleming was an unlucky son of a bitch. Seriously. You'd think a TV star was in a good position, but he wasn't. Let me explain.


I was an abused child. You know that. I've also surrounded myself with people who were abused children. You probably also know that. However, Fleming was so abused that there's only one person I know who had it worse: Robert Tannahill, my partner on THE COCAINE! BROS. Rob had it rough, worse than anyone I know which is why I give him a lot more latitude than I'd give anyone else. I love him as I've loved no other male human being in my life. We've had our rough patches, but, well, you get it.


I don't know what Rob would be OK with me talking about, so I'll skip it. Instead, I'll talk about what Fleming had to go through. Fleming, who was born as Edward Heddy Jr., was once beaten by his father so bad it kept him in bed for a few days. Young Fleming got stuck with a bone disease when he was a kid, and his father didn't visit him in all the six months he was in the hospital. However, when Fleming came home, his old man had no problem beating the shit out of him, even though he needed crutches to get around. Could you imagine beating the daylights out of a kid who got around on crutches? Me, neither.


Fleming's dad was such a cunt that Fleming tried to shoot him once when he was nine. According to Greenland, the gun jammed. He doesn't explain the momentous beating Fleming must have gotten due to this attempt. I know my stepfather would have at least cut my balls off for something like that. Regardless, Fleming hopped a train to get away from his family and wound up in Chicago, working for gangsters during Prohibition. The poor kid wound up getting shot for his troubles, and the authorities decided to return him to his father. This happened AT THE AGE OF 11.


Luckily for him, the cops saw how afraid he was of his old man and left him with his mother instead.


Six years later, he ran away from his life of poverty to join the Navy. It was during this time that he wound up getting terribly injured in an accident. Two hundred pounds of steel fell on Fleming's face, completely destroying it. I'm surprised he survived such an accident. It took four plastic surgeries to reconstruct his face, including an eye he thought he was going to lose. From all accounts, he was ugly before, but this actually made him look better. Hollywood better.


Did I mention that he had a club foot that he had to wear a brace for? That would probably explain his life of going barefoot, since shoes tended to fuck with him pretty badly.


He gave acting a shot and got reasonably good success at that. However, I think he would have been happier being a writer. Whenever he wasn't in front of the camera, he was reading a book, which understandably put off other actors on RAWHIDE. Clint Eastwood was wrestling with the other actors--literally--and pulling pranks and generally having a good time, but Fleming was too busy reading. He wrote a couple of episodes of the show.


Fleming clashed with the supposedly creative forces of RAWHIDE often, but it wasn't for his own betterment. It was for all actors. At one point, he made some labor deals which benefited everyone on the cast.


He hated working in front of the camera. He wanted to write novels, and he was planning on doing just that. He had a few contracts to work through, and then he could retire to the home he'd built on RAWHIDE money. All he had to do was get through one last movie role, which he'd scored after being fired from the show that had made him a big name.


(Wrongly, by the way. Even Clint Eastwood, who had publicly feuded with Fleming many times, said that the network was making the wrong choice by firing Fleming and promoting Eastwood to the star of the show. It should be noted that Fleming was approached by Sergio Leone, who wanted an American actor for FISTFUL OF DOLLARS, the first great spaghetti western to ever be made. Fleming, along with other American actors, turned Leone down. However, unlike others, Fleming suggested that Leone might want Eastwood for the role. As all of you know, even my non-horror fans reading this now, Eastwood accepted the deal and became an international star because of his involvement with Leone. (For $15,000, no less!) Because of this moment, we have Academy Award-winning director Clint Eastwood. Instead of getting Eric Fleming as the Man With No Name--who really did have a name, by the way--we got Clint Eastwood, who really was the best choice. However, Eastwood wanted to get out of his CBS contract for RAWHIDE in order to make movies, which is why he suggested that CBS should fire him instead of Fleming. It didn't work out that way.)


Which brings us to the final moment in Eric Fleming's life. You'd think that a guy who suffered as badly as he did would get some sort of reward, right?


According to Charles Marquis Warren, the creator of RAWHIDE, Fleming was "a miserable human being." Greenland goes so far as to say that Fleming agreed with this assessment, calling himself "bitter" and "twisted."


Shortly after being fired from RAWHIDE, Fleming got a job for a movie being filmed in South America. He was filming a scene that should have probably been performed by a stunt man when his boat capsized, and he was dragged down by the undertow.


It is irrefutable that Eric Fleming was devoured by piranha. However, no one knows if he drowned first or was eaten alive.


I desperately hope that he drowned first, but from all accounts, he was very athletic. He was an able swimmer.


I personally think the piranha killed him.


I hope for his sake that I'm not right. I can't stand the idea of someone like him, abused from his earliest moments on this planet, dying in such a hard way.


He was forty-one and the first RAWHIDE actor to die.


I feel a great deal of kinship toward him. I hope his passage from this world wasn't as hard as I think it was.


But I know his luck was shit. From what I could tell . . . I can't say it.


If there's an afterlife--and I highly doubt there is--I hope Eric Fleming has found some kind of reward there.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #65: CHANGING HORSES IN MIDSTREAM

I find myself in an odd situation. I'm watching three old TV shows on DVD, and they've kind of synched up so that they've all reached the point of changing casts near the end of their run. People lose their shit over TV shows that suddenly have drastic cast changes. Not me. I mourn for the past, of course, but I look forward to any new cool shit that might be in store.


Take STARGATE SG1, for example. (And STARGATE ATLANTIS, for that matter.) I always loved the show, but it went over several personnel changes over the years. I'm totally happy with how it turned out, though. Great characters were replaced with great characters. That's the key: you can't get shit shit to replace cool shit.


But with the changes in these three shows? I'm a bit nervous. Let's break it down a bit.


MAVERICK. I've been a huge fan of the show my entire life (for more evidence, see this old entry in the Goodnight, Fuckers series), but I've never seen anything beyond two episodes of the fourth season. Why? No one gave a shit about them. Not even Columbia House wanted to bring them back. Let's face it: James Garner is the best Maverick you can get. Jack Kelly is great, but he just can't match Garner's charisma. I just got season 4 on DVD, and Garner is only in one episode, which was filmed for the third season but got delayed due to contract disputes. He's replaced by Roger Moore, a cousin Maverick from abroad. I like Moore, but I just can't see how he can fill Garner's shoes. Not to mention the fact that there's another Maverick cousin that's going to be introduced soon. Jack Kelly's Bart Maverick is great, but I don't think he can carry the series without Garner's Bret.


21 JUMP STREET. I never thought I'd like this show, but I got the first season for a dollar. I can't express how surprised I was at how good it was. Yet the final season? Johnny Depp left after one episode (which was filmed for the previous season; sound familiar?), and Dustin Nguyen doesn't even make an appearance. Their replacements? Eh, they're less than inspiring. I don't have a great deal of hope for the rest of this final season.


SLIDERS. When this show was first being aired, I kind of made fun of my brothers for liking it. The production value was awful, and it had the fat kid from STAND BY ME as the lead. But . . . they turned me on this one. One of them got me the first two seasons for Christmas, and I couldn't help but be drawn into it. The production value is still awful, but the stories are amazing. The characters are top notch. But . . . we lost one of them last season. We lost another one this season. I've been warned we're going to lose yet another later this season, to be replaced by a brother. This sounds disastrous. When you use a sibling to replace a main character, it's always desperate. But I've made it this far, so you can be sure I'm in it until the end.


It's sad, because you know that such shake-ups are ALWAYS about the actors getting fucked in contract negotiations, but sometimes, it really does lead to great storytelling. Not often, but sometimes. I'll let you know how I feel about these three shows, when all is said and done. (And they really need to release the final season of MAVERICK soon.)

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #15: RIP JAMES GARNER

Many of you who have known me for a while are aware of this: PREACHER is my favorite comic book of all time, but I got more fun out of HITMAN. What you might not know is this: my favorite Western TV show is GUNSMOKE, but I got more fun out of MAVERICK.


Let me shift for a moment. Not a lot of people know this, but MAVERICK creator Roy Huggins, who also co-created THE ROCKFORD FILES, was fond of saying that James Rockford is a direct descendant of Bret Maverick, and it totally makes sense. Sometimes, I wish Rockford would tell Angel (or any of his other friends/acquaintances) about things his grand(-grand)-pappy might have said.


All of that said, I'm almost certain that everyone who knows me now has no idea how much influence James Garner has had on my life. Maverick and Rockford are huge ingredients in my personality. I don't even know where to begin with this.


Let's start with cowardice. I can't tell you how many people I've casually admitted my cowardice to. Bret Maverick (and Brother Bart) did this on a routine basis. Here's the thing, though: none of the Mavericks were cowards, and neither am I. It's just that we hate violence.


Hold on a minute! You all know, through my fiction, that I depict a lot of horrible, psychotic violent scenes in my fiction. I'm sorry, but that's the way of the world. Personally, I abhor violence, just like the Mavericks. I am a pussy-hair away from being a pacifist. But the problem is this: violence exists, whether I abhor it or not. Like the Mavericks, I will resort to it . . . but only if I have to. Unfortunately for them, it's happened a lot. For me, I haven't struck anyone out of rage for more than twenty years. I still feel guilty about that last incident, because I heard that guy hasn't been the same since. It makes me sick to my stomach. But I had to do it, or someone I loved would be hurt even worse.


I'm also kind of mercenary when it comes to money. Maybe I learned that one from my father, because he's much the same way. Regardless, I have done quite a few things that went against my nature for monetary gain, just like the Mavericks and Rockford.


Like Maverick, I have siblings. Bret only had Bart (and there were cousins, but never mind that). In all actuality, my brothers and I have more in common with the Earps. Most of us look the same. Take a look at the Earps and try to point out Wyatt. Try to point out Virgil. Try to point out Morgan. Try to separate me from Dan or Alex or even Bob. (Frankie and Rachael look different from us, mostly because they had different parents. I love them both, but I've only seen them in person a few times, and on each time, they gave me the impression that they could handle anything that came their way. My father and Ann--my stepmother--really did a good job of raising them. My own mother and Bill--my stepfather--were fucked in the head. I loved Mom, but she was never ready to raise kids.) Here's the thing: if any of my brothers got into a fix, I'd let them figure it out for themselves. How many times did Bret abandon Bart to figure his own shit out? Even if Bret caused the aforementioned shit? At the same time, if it was really ugly, something beyond the respective siblings' abilities, Bret would step in and help. Just like me with my brothers. Whenever something happened with them, I'd feel an initial rage, but I knew that they could handle it themselves. If there was something (and there never was) that they couldn't handle, I'd handle it for them.


Rockford shared a lot of these qualities with his ancestors. I'm sure you don't need further explanation from me. You get the picture.


A lot of my friends say that they don't like westerns. It's all the same shit, and for the most part, they're right. For the wrong reasons, because they're blinded by the stereotypes, but still. For them, I recommend MAVERICK. The Mavericks were so unconventional for their time it was ridiculous. It was a western show where the leads were self-professed cowards who used their minds to thwart their enemies instead of quick-draws. They didn't even drink booze. Ask a common person what they think of when they think of westerns, and in the top five is whiskey.


I don't have any enemies today, but the ones I used to have? I never threatened violence. I always outsmarted them. That's the greatest lesson anyone can learn from the Mavericks. If you want to kick someone's ass, don't do it. Just fuck 'em over with your mental or social skills. That will work 100% of the time. No kidding. I've exercised this a lot of times AND IT WORKS.


A lot of my friends say they hate crime shows. It's all the same shit, and for the most part, they're right. For the wrong reasons, because they're blinded by the stereotypes, but still. For them, I recommend THE ROCKFORD FILES. Rockford, like his ancestors, was very unconventional. Given the choice between fighting crime and relaxing while eating tacos? He'd always choose the latter, even though the former would get him some money to survive. The guy lived in a trailer on the beach, for fuck's sake. For the most part, he had to come to a decision between hanging out with women he wanted to fuck or hanging out with his father, expertly played by Noah Beery, Jr. That's how most of his days went. (For those who didn't watch the show: he always chose his father.)


James Garner played regular guys, not superheros like Matt Dillon or whoever the fuck is in charge of LAW AND ORDER. That's why I identify with his characters over anyone else in Hollywood. Watch his episodes of MAVERICK. When he deals with dumb fucks or idiots of any variety, watch him. You'll know exactly how I would respond to the same dumb fucks and idiots. I recently watched an episode of MAVERICK with him in it that I hadn't seen before, and I literally--AND I MEAN LITERALLY--finished his sentences.


Wow. This went on for too long. Didn't mean that. I just meant to say that I'm sad Garner is gone. Did you know that Efrem Zimbalist Jr. died a couple of months ago? Neither did I, until today. I don't know why a big deal wasn't made about Zimbalist's death, because he was--once upon a time--an incredible actor. More importantly, he was one of the biggest villains/friends of Bret Maverick. He played Dandy Jim Buckley, who worked with the Mavericks several times but who always had his own motives. Sometimes, Dandy Jim won. Which is ridiculous for a Western back then. How could the good guy lose? Well, sometimes the Mavericks came up short, despite the well of knowledge Pappy left for them.


I like to think that James Garner found Jack Kelly in the afterlife, and that they're working together to bilk the devil for all he's worth. And I desperately hope the devil is really Zimbalist. Come on, he's got the perfect voice for it.


*sigh* All right. I'll go to bed. Goodnight, fuckers.













Are they gone? Good. This one is only for James Garner: rest in peace. You were great, and for the most part, you were underrated. Time will tell for you. If there's a motherfucker out there who disagrees, they're wrong. If they don't want to look into Bret Maverick or Jim Rockford, there is always SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL SHERIFF and SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL GUNFIGHTER. Those will change their mind.


Seriously, though. Thank you, James Garner. Without you, I wouldn't be the man I am today.








To those of you who have read this far, here's a bonus. My TV Western hero was James Arness as Matt Dillon on GUNSMOKE. He died not too long ago, and here's my tearful goodbye to him.
























You might also wonder why I led this piece with a picture of POKER ACCORDING TO MAVERICK. If you want to know the truth, I'm a really good poker player because of this book. At one point I decided to become a professional poker player, but I was too afraid of the slapdash lifestyle, so after winning about $3,000 at it, I chickened out. I mention this because I feel I would be lying if I didn't. But I saved it for last (and put it so far down in the piece) that I didn't think anyone would see it. Therefore, if I got involved in a poker game, no one would know about this . . . unless they paid attention to this. And who the fuck is actually still reading this? To those of you who have gotten this far, goodnight. Not fuckers. Goodnight, friends.
























You're still here? I'm glad. Thank you for reading this far. Here is the real emotion of what has happened. I'm crying my eyes out right now. Maverick and Rockford were heroes to me, and I can't stop the flood from my eyes. It is a bold reminder of my own mortality.


Goodbye, James Garner.