See, now I was going to come up with a real post while the kitchen floor dried (three batches -- six gallons or so -- of beer bottled, plus one big ol' stout put in the fermenter), maybe bring some righteous political anger, or some Cosby-style parenting speak, and instead, I find myself distracted by the shuffling up of "Bloody Sam" by Go To Blazes on the iPod.
I'd call it wisdom, but it extends beyond that.
So, now I'm too distracted to offer anything beyond the following baseline requirements:
1. Find a copy of "Anytime, Anywhere" by Go To Blazes and listen to it. That might prove difficult; I have no idea what the in-print/out-of-print status of their albums might be at this point.
2. See "The Wild Bunch," directed by Sam Peckinpah, paying particular attention to the opening sequence and loving how those kids -- in an almost throw-away moment -- chase each other down the street playing guns. And the closing sequence, in all its fatalistic glory. And the train robbery, in all its silent brilliance. And the presence of Ernest Borgnine in something that isn't "AirWolf."
3. See "Ride the High Country," the best of Peckinpah's more or less traditional westerns. The ending of this is heartbreaking.
4. See "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid" and get your Dylan love on. Also, enjoy the death of Slim Pickens and figure that the pathos of that scene makes up for the obvious nature of the scene in which Garrett shoots himself in the mirror.
5. See "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia," not because it's a great film, because it's not, but because it has a sweet premise, an amazing title, and, once you've seen it, you can't imagine a buddy film in which one of the two buddies is not, in fact, a severed head. (Danny Glover eat your heart out, no?)