THE LONE RANGER AND TONTO RE-UNITED...

For one of our long car rides, my son Andrew and I got a CD of 50 old TV theme songs from the library. The songs went chronologically backwards and coincidentally, my favorite was saved for last. From the first chord of the music, a lump formed in my throat and a tear came to my eye as I flashed back to yesteryear and recalled, "THE LONE RANGER" show.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxIuIxqo2So : An excerpt from the Lone Ranger Theme.

I tried to explain to Andrew how significant the show was to my youth. He looked at me like I was crazy. Then I told him that during the opening theme (click on the hyperlink above), that I sat on the arm of my parent's sofa and "rode" it, like a horse. To complete these festivities, I wore a red cowboy and shot my plastic, faux-pearl handled six-shooter, (cap-less cap gun...hey, when it came to restricting unnecessary noise, my mother was tyrant).

The "Lone Ranger" was an old-time radio program that originated in 1933. On TV, it ran for nine seasons (1949-1957). It was such an oldie that it was already in re-runs when I started watching it circa 1959. During the run of the show, different actors played the lead roles but I only remember Clayton Moore as the Lone Ranger and Jay Silverheels as Tonto.

NO ITS NOT THE "VILLAGE PEOPLE," IT'S CLAYTON MOORE (left) AND JAY SILVERHEELS (right) AS THE LONE RANGER AND TONTO.

Its curious to me that such a high-quality item like this hasn't (to my knowledge) been shown in syndication for decades. I understand that by today's standards, the show would be dated, simple and corny but I guarantee even with my limited expertise in demographics that there is a retro-cable station out there that can profit by airing it.

I am certain of this because I remember the show's effect on me. Back in my kindergarten years, the show was fresh, dynamic and sophisticated. I admit that I loved the thrilling adventures of each episode but the true aphrodisiac was the opening song.

Listen and watch the theme again, (it's only 25 seconds). You'll notice that it has cleverly intertwined the "WILLIAM TELL OVERTURE" in the background with narration and an action video. As a kid, just hearing the phrase, "A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty hi-yo Silver, away...the Lone Ranger," set me into a frenzy. One time I got so excited, I fell off my horse. Despite my mom's warnings to; "Simmer down." I'd still get fired-up watching the Lone Ranger race his stallion Silver across the prairie, charge up a dusty hill and end-up with his trusty horse victoriously rearing-up to climax my rush.

When something so obvious as showing classics like this doesn't happen, I look for alternatives. If they can't bring the "Lone Ranger" back from the dead on TV...I say redo the whole enchilada into a contemporary movie. My million dollar concept would be called, "THE LONE RANGER AND TONTO...RE-UNITED ON BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN."

I'd like to cast Heath Ledger in the starring role. But instead of Jake Gyllenhaal being Tonto, we should hire Charles Nelson Riley, (who...to be politically correct is one-eighth Comanche).

I envision "THE LONE RANGER AND TONTO RE-UNITED ON BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN" beginning with the heroes clowning around in their rustic camp-site on Brokeback Mountain. The Lone Ranger jokes with Tonto after being taught how to seek-up behind "bad-guys" while wearing cowboy boots. But Tonto seems uncharacteristically pre-occupied. The Native American is irritable and doesn't appreciate the Ranger's laissez-faire attitude concerning what Tonto refers to as; network TV's invasion of their home.

The Lone Ranger says, "You shouldn't sweat-out the last minute details. Chill-out, don't worry, everything is going to be perfect." Tonto says, "Its not that." The Ranger says, "Then tell me what's what...because you're acting queer and its creeping me out." Tonto says, "I thought we agreed to live as one with nature...now all you want to do is sell-out our lifestyle for a few measly bucks." The Lone Ranger begins to hum show tunes and the bosom buddies peer-off in different directions.

TONTO'S ANXIETY OVER THE HGTV NETWORK'S VISIT HAS HIM CONSIDERING RETIREMENT FROM CRIME FIGHTING.

That night, the dynamic duo were unable to sort out their squabble. At the crack of dawn, the HGTV film crew shows-up. The Lone Ranger takes the producer and director aside and encourages them to find ways to directly compliment Tonto's decorating skills. The ever-cagey Tonto eavesdrops on part of the conversation and hears the producer say, "There is nothing more dreadful that imagination without taste..." Tonto is in a tizzy and slithers away without hearing the rest of the statement, "Your friend does not need empty praise...his taste transcends genius!"

During the interview portion of the taping, the host says to Tonto,"What a relaxing environment to come back to after a hostile day out on the trail. The stream running through your den is a Zen-like wonder." Yawning Tonto merely grunts. The host then added, "Your coordinated rock garden and visceral expression of life's depth is symbolized powerfully. I love the juxtaposition of the Hopi-ish hereafter mural painted on your tent...against simplistic ornamentation of the post, neo-Apache pottery."

Later while the film crew is packing up, the Lone Ranger is approached by the gaffer, boom-operator and the best-boy. They want information about the bars in town. The Lone Ranger says, "Tonto and I have invented a new drink and you can only get it at the Tool Box Tavern." The best-boy asked, "What is the drink called?" The Ranger says with pride, "A 'Sissy-Mary.'" "What's in it?" asked the boom-operator. "Its a concoction similar to a Margarita with a combination of tequila, lemonade, Tonto's secret recipe of indigenous roots and berries...served in a frosted, salt encrusted glass." The gaffer said, "Sounds scrumptious...I love pink lemonade..." The Lone Ranger cuts him off, "We don't use pink lemonade...remember its a SISSY-Mary!" Everyone laughed. The Lone Ranger then said, "C'mon, I'll take you down to the Tool-Box...and after one Sissy-Mary, you'll never drink another Mimosa, Appletini, or Pink Lady again."

While the group discusses travel arrangements, an angry Tonto appears from behind a giant rock. In a fit of insecurity and jealousy, he runs behind a Joshua Tree and unearths his buried stash of of spiritual remedies. He is seen weeping as he staggers into the wilderness and mounts a stray Pinto pony.

In the Tool Box Tavern, the Lone Ranger learns that his Sissy-Mary machine has been stolen. Unaware of Tonto's role in the thievery, he is afraid with his patent pending, that someone will try to sell the machine and create their own knock-off recipe.

THE RAMROD BAR WAS WHERE THE LONE RANGER AND TONTO FIRST MET.

Playing on Tonto's sense of nostalgia, the masked lawman's detective skills take him to the Ramrod Bar. Even though his faithful companion was not there...he made good use of his time and traded the bandanna from his back pocket for a glittery purple mask.

THE "FORT DIX" MILITARY-THEMED BAR WAS NOT TONTO'S CUP OF TEA. HE ABHORRED BONDAGE AND RARELY LIKED BEING DISCIPLINED.

The Lone Ranger got lucky at the Fort Dix Bar. A man with Groucho mask with a fake nose, glasses and mustache had been there trying to sell the Sissy-Mary machine. But the bartender, a loyal friend of the crime fighting team, thought it best to err on the side of caution and didn't buy it.
THE ANVIL PUB CATERED TO A LIMITED CLIENTELE...DISGRUNTLED PONY EXPRESS EMPLOYEES.

At the Anvil Pub the Lone Ranger hoped to catch-up with Tonto. While on stake-out, together with some hired hands from the K-Y Ranch, he stuffed Sacajawea dollars (those coins were a birthday gift from Tonto) into a rookie "pole-dancer's" G-string. Later at the main entrance, he noticed his partner, disguised as a construction worker...with the Sissy-Mary machine tucked under his arm, come in. The two crime-fighters begin a vicious cat-fight, a bitter argument ensues. Then there's a moment of serenity...they reconcile. As they walk out, the young pole-dancer counts out the Lone Ranger's generous tips and says to the more experienced dancer, "Who was that masked man?" The older dancer answered, "Dearie, that was the Lone Ranger."

The Lone Ranger said, "To show you where my heart is, let's use the HGTV's payoff for a fun casino weekend in Las Vegas New Mexico, at Caesar's Phallus." The rest of Tonto's ire melted as he cooed, "Kimosabe."

Double-mounted atop Silver, they mosey out into the sunset. On the outskirts of town the Lone Ranger squeals, "Hi-yo Silver away." And the trusty stallion races the men across the prairie as the "William Tell Overture" increases in volume.

To the tune, "CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN" from the "SOUND OF MUSIC," they cross railroad tracks and charge up the dusty trail that leads home. At the highest peak, the horse rears-up triumphantly. In the background, the bullet train zooms into the Brokeback Mountain Tunnel. Fade to black.

Now that's a movie that needs to be made!

CAPITALIZING ON GLENN MILLER'S DEATH

One of my non-computerized friends, JP recently made fun of me because I used the word "mellow." I used it to describe the calm on my drive home from work. I guess I got defensive when he said, "Mellow disappeared from the English language when the last hippie went corporate!" So I said, "No, no it's true. After work (4:AM-4:30) its nice to air-out and drive home with the road all to myself. It gives me time to phase back into my Steve-Mode by communing peacefully with my thoughts."

This mellowing process is aided by several "go-to" options on the car radio like; classical music, rock or oldies. Other times I listen to sports talk and still other times I get a kick out of "COAST-TO COAST AM" with George Noory.

Noory's show airs in this part of South Jersey at WOND 1400-AM and it overwhelmingly deals with the para-normal. The hottest subject these days is the interpretation and speculation over the Mayan calendar's supposed red-flag...to mark the 2012 end of mankind. Other shows highlight UFO's, ghosts, re-incarnation, Big Foot sightings etc. When those topics aren't at least entertaining to laugh at, I switch it off. However, it should be noted that sometimes legitimate scientists come on and discuss interesting things such as; the dangers of asteroids, natural resource conservation or alternatives for the over-population and food shortage problems.

THERE'S ALWAYS PLENTY OF KNUCKLEHEAD AUTHORS TRYING TO PROFIT FROM PEOPLE'S FEARS AND/OR URBAN LEGENDS. HOAXES LIKE THE "LOCH NESS MONSTER" ARE PRIME "COAST-TO-COAST" FODDER.

George Noory's best guests are the crackpot authors who write over-sensationalized books that try to justify wild theories. One such guest was a gentleman proclaiming to be the kidnapped, 20-month old (slain in 1932) Charles A.Lindbergh Jr...a.k.a. the "Lindbergh baby."

FOR "THE CRIME OF THE CENTURY," BRUNO HAUPTMANN WAS CONVICTED AND ELECTROCUTED FOR THE KIDNAPPING AND MURDER OF THE LINDBERGH BABY.

In addition to promoting his book to generate interest and sales, this Charles Lindbergh's ultimate aim was to lay claim to the Lindbergh family fortune. Its all funny to me because we can hardly confirm one hour-old tidbits our friends say...let alone the unsubstantiated rantings of someone trying to generate a conspiracy theory in order to disprove a firmly accepted truth from 75 years ago.
IN 1927, CHARLES "LUCKY LINDY" LINDBERGH EARNED A TICKER-TAPE PARADE DOWN BROADWAY AS THE FIRST PILOT TO FLY OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN .

An even better crackpot, author/journalist/investigator Hunton Downs came on "Coast-to-Coast" last week to hawk his book on the death of Glenn Miller.

Glenn Miller was a jazz musician and big-band leader of the early 1940's. A celebrity and national icon of my parent's generation, Miller went to Europe and cemented his superstar status by entertaining allied troops during WWII. Unfortunately, he died under mysterious circumstances...because his body was never recovered, he is still listed as; "Missing In Action." Thus prompting (66 years later) a supposedly non-fiction book about the...covered-up...circumstances of his death.

GLENN MILLER (above) WAS PORTRAYED BY ACTOR JAMES STEWART IN THE 1954 MOVIE, "THE GLENN MILLER STORY."

The widely held notion of Miller's demise was; he was being flown from the U. K. to entertain GI's in newly liberated Paris. In route over the English Channel, his plane encountered a terrible storm and inadvertently veered off course. Simultaneously, a bomber squadron returning to Britain from raids in Germany were ordered to jettison there unused bombs, in a safe section over the Channel. It is believed that these bombs were accidentally dropped on the small, low flying plane carrying Glenn Miller and his entourage. Adding to the mystique, no trace of the plane, its crew or passengers were ever found.

Hunton Downs had a better explanation and he used a simple ploy to lure readership...celebrity espionage agents. You may recall that; Moe Berg a major league baseball player (chiefly with the Washington Senators) spied on the Japanese prior to and during WWII. The famous chef Julia Child was pressed into covert activities in England and comedian Harpo Marx during the early days of the Cold War, served as a courier smuggling documents out from Russia.

Downs combined this celebrity spy appeal with researching old records and came up with this; Glenn Miller spoke fluent German and was being groomed to lead an Allied group to "diplomatically" convince Hitler's underlings to sabotage Germany's war effort to end WWII early. Hitler found out and formed a counterattack. He enlisted his most reliable operative (a German with an Italian last name...it started with an "S." Sorry, I only heard it once on the radio. This theory does appear in print...however, the spy's name does NOT).

According to Hunton Downs, Hitler's secret agent...with James Bond-like precision, kidnapped Glenn Miller. In captivity, Miller was threatened with torture...in order to entice him to serve as the key figure to reach and subsequently assassinate General Dwight D. Eisenhower...the commander of our European theater. Miller refused the indoctrination and was indeed tortured. Glenn Miller withstood hours of agony and eventually died. His captors then smuggled his corpse into Paris and dumped his body in a brothel that had been used by German officers. Hitler's propagandists counted on the embarrassment factor...so in order to save the dead superstar's image from scandal, the US military concocted the story of Miller's plane succumbing to "friendly fire."

So if you love mellowing-out to outlandish stories as much as I do...I recommend "COAST-TO-COAST AM" with George Noory. You might get lucky and hear the eye-witness accounts of the 15-foot giant our Air Force personnel captured in Afghanistan last year or the guy who wrote the book about the "SHADOW PEOPLE." If you stick with that author, at least he can help you clarify the difference between; sprites, elves, pixies, brownies, leprechauns, fairies, gremlins, trolls, gnomes and imps.

Don't be an ogre, those faces on Mars are watching you...even if you don't work "swing-shift" set your alarm clock and check out the show and share your revelations with us.

THREE-QUARTERS GREAT...IS STILL REAL GOOD !

"It's only a movie Sparky," was actor Robin Williams' response to the criticism, the 1988 movie, "THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST" received. This criticism by religious leaders encouraged bans and protests due to the content of the film...specifically the doubts Christ had in his last years as an ordinary man.

The net result of the furor this controversy caused, led to a greater worldwide awareness (advertisement) than the movie producers could have ever imagined. Whether the studio heads planned or counted-on this manipulation is uncertain but the strategy in the name of religion backfired.

I believe this phenomena is about to repeat itself...and what better day to discuss it...than Easter Monday.

On May 15, 2009, the movie "ANGELS AND DEMONS" is opening. Based on the Dan Brown novel of the same name, it is the prequel to "THE DA VINCI CODE." Tom Hanks will reprise his role as Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon and lead the chase for the "MacGuffin." (A MacGuffin was a term Alfred Hitchcock made-up to identify the item being pursued in a movie...or book). "Angels" chase takes us to the heart of Catholicism...Rome...more precisely, the Vatican.

THE "ANGELS AND DEMONS" LOGO IS THE SAME UPSIDE DOWN AS RIGHT SIDE UP. YOU'LL FIND THIS TYPE OF PRINT TO BE A RECURRING CLUE IN THE FILM.

"Angels and Demons" has faced several delays since its originally proposed opening in 2006. One obstacle was the inability to get municipal approval to film near the Vatican. However, the biggest delay was caused by a Hollywood writers' strike. So the church has had plenty of time to rally its forces to denounce this film. Now at crunch time, a Vatican newspaper has suggested a global boycott but another newspaper in Turin, LA ESTAMPA fears that such condemnations bring about the boomerang-effect and ultimately provides more interest and popularity to the movie.

"THE DA VINCI CODE" INCLUDED STREET SCENES IN PARIS. NOT TO BE OUT DONE, "ANGELS AND DEMONS" CHARACTERS TRAIPSE THROUGH ROME.

I loved reading the "Da Vinci Code" and despite the movie's less than favorable reviews...my son Andrew and I seemingly stood alone with Roger Ebert...and loved the movie too.

A few years ago, at the suggestion of MSLEMMA, I read "Angels and Demons," and loved it. I have a bad habit of checking the number pages a book has and then measuring my progress to the end by calculating how much is left. Well, I admit noting the amount of pages in the beginning but I flew through "Angels" like no other book I can remember. I was enjoying it so much that I hoped it would NEVER end. Then around three-quarters of the way through...everything changed.

Like any movie or book, its success is based on the concept that people like ourselves aren't interesting...unless they are faced with incredible circumstances and rise up to do amazing things. Therefore, the people being portrayed doing these extraordinary things...in reality...are NOT people like us.

Alfred Hitchcock liked to take it one step further and put his extraordinary characters in such perilous situations that while watching the movie the audience would have to ask itself; is that possible? Then afterwards while rehashing the plot the individual would realize; it was impossible but when it mattered...the action was accepted and the movie-going experience was a positive one.

ALFRED HITCHCOCK WAS THE KING OF THE IMPROBABLE...BUT I THINK THE 'MacGUFFIN' AND OTHER ELEMENTS IN "ANGELS AND DEMONS" WOULD MAKE HIM ROLL-OVER IN HIS GRAVE.

I believe that concept of; is it possible? was intended in "Angels and Demons." The exception here is, I didn't accept it immediately and despite my appreciation for Dan Brown or any author's wide range of imagination...my reading bubble of joy was burst by my perception of the ridiculous.

I will not sabotage the plot. In fact my curiosity has been overwhelming me for the last three years in anticipation of the premiere. I just can't wait to see if the movie is as riveting as the book, (at least the first three-quarters). Then Sparky, I will see how they treat the unlikely set of events (the last quarter) that has the Vatican so up in a tizzy over.

Have a HAPPY EASTER and when May 15th rolls around, my son Andrew and I will see you on the movie line.

BALDNESS: WE MOCK WHAT WE ARE TO BE !

Its no picnic being a bald guy...but every now and then there's a glimmer of joy.

Let me tell you non-hair challenged folks a little something. It's unlikely that you know the pain and agony of bonking your head (like getting out of a car) and scraping off a chunk of scalp. In addition to feeling stupid, it hurts like hell and other than wearing a hat to hide the eventual giant scab, there's little you can do to avoid having to explain the situation a thousand times.

At this moment as I type, I have the remnants of such a giant scab. Unfortunately for me, I work in a place that prevents me from wearing a hat...and to me, covering it with a band-aid would not change the quantity and quality of the stupid questions.

My first night at work with the big, fresh scab, I was getting annoyed from all the razzing about it. Late that night, I crossed paths on the escalator with a dumb guy, named Alf.
He said, "Hey, what's that thingy on your head?"
I blurted out, "I smooshed a bug."
The perplexed look on Alf's face almost made my eons of suffering tolerable.

The bigger baldness picture is, it is incalculable the amount of money, time and effort I have saved down through the years because of it. Imagine how much men spend on expensive styling, hair care products, blow-dryers...even something as simple as a comb. Then consider the time and effort invested in going to a salon or daily self-maintenance.

Once you've worn-out an abacus or two factoring this all out...what you have figured out is....all the time, money and effort WOULD be worth it for a full head of hair.

Yes, I inwardly wish I had a full head of hair. My frustration is worsened because my dad's hair was a thing of beauty. He was a man of few extravagances but his hair and it's upkeep was a vice-like indulgence . In the early 70's the "razor-cut" was in vogue. Dad was obsessed with finding the ultimate razor-cut. He had little patience for pretenders and developed a "one and done attitude." Trust me, nobody went through more stylists than him.

You could never put me in that category. The gene that provides "pride in one's mane" did not get handed down from my father to me. As soon as I was too old to sit in Mr. Engel's fire-engine while getting my monthly trim and lollipop...getting a haircut (in my adolescence) became a painful chore. Maybe my distaste originated from the "cow-lick" (front left), I had. A new haircut always seemed to emphasize it. I remember wishing that the cow-lick would magically disappear.

The haircut drudgery got worse as I got older. My dad was a good-looking man and I'm guessing that he figured I needed all the help I could get? So when I became a teenager, he deemed it necessary for me to lose the schlump look.

When I was fourteen and fifteen, together with dad, we led nomadic life searching Brooklyn for the perfect razor-cut. I was less than enthusiastic about these jaunts and was satisfied with my less-than-dainty appearance. Even worse, I was uncomfortable being pampered, (way back then, male hair salons didn't hire females). I hated the shampooing , hair drying and assorted fuss. So having these excursions forced down my throat only heightened my resistance. The situation reached its negative apex when for a "command performance" (that meant I had no choice but to accompany my folks somewhere fancy and/or boring) dad threw in a manicure for me, (okay, there was one woman there but she looked like Stella Lugosi).

I was sixteen when my folks and I reached a compromise...when my mop-top was at it's shaggiest, or there was a special occasion, at my mother's behest, (that meant; at gun-point) I went solo, on foot to Ross's Barber Shop; they offered discount razor-cuts.

On the day in question, they had two barbers. I was getting my hair "mowed," side-by-side with an adult as the cutters blithered and had a giggly, grand old time in Italian. If my father was there, he would have insisted that there were no private conversations while he was in the chair...even in English! I guarantee that after a warning, if one more word amongst them oozed-out, dad would never go back there again. Me, I couldn't care less...I just wanted to get out as fast as possible...as long as it didn't slow these guys down, I said chat away!

My barber was about to begin the "razor" aspect of my cut when he and the other hyena suddenly disappeared into the backroom.
While they presumably had a cigarette, the other customer said, "Do you know what they were laughing at?"
At sixteen, I wasn't even clever enough to know what language they were speaking, so naturally I said, "No."
The man said, "They thought it was funny that you were losing your hair!"
The immediacy of this "going bald memo" was as foreign to me as the barber's conversation. After all, going bald was from heredity or happened to old men. So, it couldn't happen to me for a long time...besides, my dad was regularly complimented on his long flowing locks. Therefore, I dismissed the whole idea and wasn't emotionally scarred. Less than two years later, the Sherlock Holmes in me, figured it all out.

In high school I played football and in my junior year, every time I took off my helmet, the nightmare of baldness revealed itself in the form of countless lost strands. The horror show got worse when the shower drain was getting clogged with my fallen tresses. During my college years when long hair for men was extremely popular, it was distracting to meet girls and sense that they were focused, and making judgements due to my eroding hairline.

Somewhere in my college years, I recalled RCC and HJ's fifth grade teacher, Mr. Arnold Walker. It was then that I regretted singing this silly verse when I was eight-years old; He's here, he's there, he's everywhere but beware, he has no hair.

I HOPE THE JOY I GOT AT MR. WALKER'S EXPENSE DIDN'T COST ME IN THE END.

Somehow with a comb in my pocket, I was still in baldness denial when I got to Las Vegas. At Hotel Fremont, I regularly dealt to an old bald man with three, half-dollar-sized liver spots on his head. Due to their dark nature and perfect triangulation, I referred to him as "Bowling Ball Head." I guess because of him and Mr. Walker, that's where the term; we mock what we are to be, originated from.

I always remind my readers; be careful what you ask for...because you just might get it. More specifically, I'd kill to have my old cow-lick back.

Even though today's style standards can be favorable to bald guys...please, don't forget what we chrome-domes have been forced to endure. If you remember nothing else about this blog, remember this. When a bird craps on the head of a person with a full head of hair...the crap does NOT fall on that person's head...it falls on their hair. On the other hand, when a bird craps on a bald guy's head...the bird has indeed crapped on his head!