This piece and its accompanying video clip absolutely made my day. The song is bouncy and cute, but whoever put the video together is just a little bit of brilliant. How the editor so well sychronized the action in the video montage with the song … well. I’ve always been a big fan of really great editing. And the catchy song isn’t bad either! You can catch all the action over at EVIL SQUIRREL’S NEST

The video is wonderful. How many of the movies in the video can you recognize (for silent movie film buffs). I picked out Charlie Chaplin and William S. Hart (the cowboy), but who’s the tap-dancing saloon girl? There’s so much more!

The time has finally come to chill out with the month of October now upon us.  It’s time to get out those sweaters, hot chocolate, and of course on Mondays.. those all-important ear muffs.

The time has finally come to chill out with the month of October now upon us.  It’s time to get out those sweaters, hot chocolate, and of course on Mondays.. those all-important ear muffs.  The seasons may change and the calendar pages may flip, but The Nest will always start off your week with another lost ditty we saved from music history’s burning leafpile.  It’s time for the next Fall classic to the played from the acorn stash we like to call the Dusty Vinyl Archive!  DJ Scratchy is always keeping things cool behind the turntable… and while the Sponkies may be missing the beginning of Spring in their homeland, they certainly won’t miss out on the leaves changing colors like Dennis Rodman’s hair…

dusty vinyl

While everyone loves to make fun of Americans’ tendency to be idiots when it comes to simple world geography, we certainly don’t hold any patents on looking stupid.  You might expect a band named Ottawan to be from, you know, Canada since Ottawa is only the country’s freaking capital city.  But no, it was actually a duo made up of two Caribbean singers which was put together by French record producers to become disco superstars stars in the Eastern Hemisphere.  Can’t we have a little truth in advertising here?  After all, the rock groups Chicago and Boston were both formed in those cities.  It works even with bigger place names, as the band Europe was actually from Europe, Kansas originated in the state of Oz Kansas, and Manfred Mann’s Earth Band hailed from…. you guessed it, Earth!

Dammit Asia! You had to ruin the point I was making...

Dammit Asia! You had to ruin the point I was making…

Ottawan jumped on the disco bandwagon after the US had long since moved on from having Saturday Night Fever.  As a result, the group never charted here at all… only in a handful of European countries and Down Under.  So why do I even know this group exists?  Because this song gets played occasionally on Music Choice’s Party Favorites channel… and I absolutely love it!  Here is Ottawan’s 1981 non-US smash hit, “Hands Up (Give Me Your Heart)”

Yes, it’s another happy-making song!  You know by now how much I love pop songs like this, and can’t understand why they wouldn’t make anyone else tickled pink when they hear it as well…

Source: Hold Up At The Disco!


A Collaboration of Garry and Marilyn Armstrong

We watched “Rustler’s Rhapsody” again last night. I love this movie. It’s an affectionate spoof of the B-Westerns of the 1940s starring Tom Berenger, Patrick Wayne, G.W. Baily (currently with “Major Crimes” on which Berenger has a recurring guest role), Andy Griffith and Fernando Rey.

The women include Sela Ward, a solid dramatic actress perhaps best remembered as Dr. Richard Kimble’s slain wife in the movie version of “The Fugitive”. There’s also Marilu Henner who riffs on the Miss Kitty/Miss Lily saloon ladies of our favorite TV westerns.

Andy Griffith and Fernando Rey both play power-mad cattle barons. Fernando usually plays an international drug czar and you probably remember him in “The French Connection”. He is slimy sinister personified. Rey and Griffith make a very odd couple. Check out the scene where they argue about who gets to do the countdown for killing the hero. They are hilarious, but Andy Griffith steals the show.

We love the movie so much we own two identical copies of it on DVD. It wasn’t going to be available for long, so Marilyn bought a copy for us, another for our best friends … and an extra. Just in case.

rustler's rhapsody dvd cover

NOTE: As it turns out, “Rustler’s Rhapsody” is available. Again. Who know for how long? If you are interested, Amazon has the DVD and the download.

Tom Berenger is The Hero who shoots the bad guys in the hand. Pat Wayne is the other good guy, but he used to be a lawyer, so be warned. Casting Pat Wayne was an inspiration. “Rustler’s Rhapsody” could easily be homage to his Dad’s ‘poverty row’ westerns of the 1930s. Pat even nails Duke’s acting range of that period.

My heroes have always been cowboys, even the stalwarts of those budget-challenged B movies. I had the good fortune to spend time with two legends of the genre. Buster Crabbe and Jack “Jock” Mahoney.

Crabbe, most famous for his “Flash Gordon” days, contends he had more fun playing the lead in the oaters where the line between good and bad is always clear and you get to wear nice costumes. He considers his westerns as “small classics” not B movies. (Crabbe continued his career into the late 60’s when producer A.C. Lyles revived the B cowboy movie with over the hill actors including Johnny Mack Brown, Rod Cameron, Bob Steele, Hoot Gibson and Richard Arlen among others).

Jack “Jock” Mahoney, known to many as TV’s “Range Rider”, is a former stuntman who graduated to supporting roles as nimble villains and finally established a following at Universal-International, playing literate good guys in lean, well written westerns. Mahoney clearly is proud of his work in the B movies. I remember the smile on his face as he recalled the fun of being recognized as a cowboy hero.

I think all the cowboy actors I’ve met (Including John Wayne) would heartily approve of “Rustler’s Rhapsody”. It’s an affectionate tribute to their work.

This is the song they play at the end of the movie when the credits are rolling. I love the song and the memories it brings because I’m of the generation that went to the movies and watched those B movies as part of the afternoon double-header at the Carlton or Laurelton, the second (third?) run movies houses where you could see two movies and a cartoon for a dime.

Warner Brothers, 1982. “Last Of The Silver Screen Cowboys” by Rex Allen Jr. and Rex Allen Sr. Be sure to listen for Roy Rogers in the final commentary and chorus!


Given the state of the state, this seemed pretty relevant. I can look through the posts on Serendipity over the months and years … and instead of becoming dated — because we fixed this or that — or at least moved on to a different issue, we are still, months and years later dealing with the exact same stuff. Our “leaders” — such as they are — are spouting the same slogans and platitudes. So … on the subject of guns …

From March 2016 …

I’ve been thinking about why this country is so gun crazy. The craziest of the crazies keep saying: “The only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.” This is, of course, ridiculous.

Then it hit me. It’s our fault so many people believe this kind of thing. By “our fault,” I mean the fault of those of us who grew up in the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. Our heroes were cowboys. We grew up watching Westerns in which everybody, men and women alike, had guns strapped to their waists. (Dale Evans was a hell of shot. So was Annie Oakley.)


Everybody had a gun. Good guys. Bad guys. Grandma. But, the world was a lot safer in those westerns than it is now — and not because everyone had a gun. Or two. Or three.

First. The bad guys rarely — if ever — actually hit anybody at whom they shot.

Second. The good guys merely shot the guns out of the bad guys hands. They weren’t trying to kill them.

Third. Grandma just shot people in the ass. Usually with a shotgun filled with rock salt.

Okay, sometimes the good guy would need to be little more extreme, so he’d shoot the bad guy in the shoulder (or “wing em” as we used to say). But it was always just a flesh wound.

BAD GUY: “OW! You shot me in the shoulder!”

GOOD GUY: “Oh stop whining. It’s just a flesh wound.”

BAD BUY: “Well if you shot me between the eyes wouldn’t that technically be a “flesh wound” too?”

GOOD GUY: “Hmm. Never thought of it that way. You know, you’re rather astute for a bad guy.”

BAD GUY: “Thank you.”

Another thing. When the bad guy used up his bullets shooting at the good guy, he ‘d throw the gun at him! I never understood this. Seriously. You just fired a few dozen bullets, each traveling at about 1000 feet per second, at a guy a couple of hundred feet away. You missed every shot.

What exactly do you hope to accomplish by throwing the gun at him? Bonk him on the head?

GOOD GUY: “OW! What the hell?! Did you just throw your gun at me!?”

BAD GUY: “Uh, yeah.”

GOOD GUY: “Well that really hurt! Look! I’ve already got a lump! What’s wrong with you?? Why would you do that?”

BAD GUY: “I ran out of bullets.”

GOOD GUY: “And whose fault is that?! If you’re going to a gun fight, come more prepared.”

BAD GUY: “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

At this point, seeing that the bad guy doesn’t have a gun with to shoot anymore … and all the good guy was intending to do was shoot the gun out of his hand, both go home feeling oddly unfulfilled.

I don’t own a gun, but I took a gun safety course. I’ve done some target shooting. So I know guns are REUSABLE! That’s right! All you gotta do is find more bullets for Pete’s sake — and that gun’s back on the job.

FYI, don’t call them bullets. They’re cartridges. The bullet is the lead part you actually fire from the gun. (See? I told you I took a course.)

One more thing we tend to forget about Westerns. If you went into a town that had a Sheriff, you had to leave your guns at the sheriff’s office. When you left town, you got your guns back.

The Sheriff understood the only reason anyone came to town was to go to the saloon. Which, let’s face it, was a brothel with a liquor license. Letting a bunch of horny, drunken cowboys hang out in a confined space with booze, hookers, and guns is not a great idea.

Even if you were in a town where they let you keep your guns, there were rules.

1. If two bad guys got in a fight, they at least gave everybody a few seconds to move their chairs out of the way, or jump behind the bar.

2. If a good guy and a bad guy got into a disagreement, they would usually schedule the gunfight for the next day in the middle of town. That way, no one else got shot.

3. They set it up for high noon.

Why high noon? Probably because it was the lunch hour. Everybody in town could come out to watch. It also made it easier for the combatants. It wasn’t necessarily easy to get time off for a gunfight.

BAD GUY: “Hey boss? Can I get off early today? I have a gunfight at 2 o’clock.”

BAD GUY’S BOSS: “Okay, but I’ll have to dock your pay.”

BAD GUY: (Sighing) “Never mind. I’ll reschedule it for lunchtime.”

Besides, “Gunfight at Two-ish” doesn’t have the gravitas of “High Noon.”

So yeah, everybody had guns in old Westerns, but they were more mature about using them.

You could argue things were simpler back then. “Things were more black and white,” you say.

To this I reply: “So what? Westerns weren’t more black and white. They were completely black and white.”

They didn’t go to color until the mid-sixties.

These days, everything contains infinitely more shades of gray. With a whole lot of color thrown in.


(Shane & Jack Wilson square off, eyeing each other as a stray dog limps out)

Shane: “I’ve heard about you..”

Wilson: “What have you heard, Shane”..

Shane: “I’ve heard your name isn’t Wilson. It’s Isidore Moshe Rabinowitz”…

Wilson: “Prove it”…

(Gunshots exchanged. Wilson/Rabinowitz falls)

Shane: “Shalom, Sucker!!”

(Shane riding away)

Joey: “Shane, come back, Shane!!”

Shane: “F#@k off, you little bugger” …

(Shane gives the kid a finger as he rides off into the sunset with music up full)

– The End –



With the world around us covered with snow, it seems a perfect time for one (last?)(probably not) visit to Arizona …


We were watching an old western the other night. “The Quest” was an unsuccessful TV pilot. Marilyn watched it for a while, then said “That’s Arizona. We were just there. That’s just outside Phoenix. I have pictures of that mountain. You have pictures of that mountain.”


We watched the credits. She was right. (I hate when that happens.) It was, indeed, Arizona.


We have pictures. These are my pictures of those mountains. As opposed to Marilyn’s, which look pretty much the same. Roads cross the sands where before, there was empty desert. More houses, here and there.


Many more cacti. Arizona has done a really good job protecting the saguaro, so they’ve been growing huge and spiny since the movie was made in 1976.


The mountains haven’t changed.



The intrepid Armstrongs came from a small, New England town and were instantly converted to western pilgrims, smitten by the tall cactus and the red light of sunset


It was a full conversion. Garry Armstrong, former mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan television station, was undaunted by warnings about snakes in the grass. “Dealt with those bastards for years,” he said. “At least these snakes warn you with rattles,” and kept shooting. Pictures. He shot pictures. Many hundred of pictures. Thousands, really.


His wife was equally pixellated. “Oh wow,” she reiterated. Sometimes, she said “Oh wow, look at that!” or “Oh wow, that’s … amazing.”


The peak of the experience came yesterday afternoon, whatever day it was, when at the Apache Land Museum, and old movie set containing memories of the days when western movies were shot nearby in the desert surround the Superstition Mountains.


Not only did Garry Armstrong get slightly too up close and personal with a cactus, but the notorious husband and wife team got to ride a mule, reviving happy memories of when they both rode real horses in rings, trails, and the occasional rodeo.


They also were able to listen to a concert given by one Henny Penny, internationally renowned performer on the toy xylophone.


It was a long days journey into night, beginning with coffee, continuing with lunch in a ghost town name Goldfield, and ending with a big old pizza back at the hacienda of über host Ben.


Yee haw!



Story by Garry Armstrong
Pictures by Garry & Marilyn Armstrong

72-Road to Mountains-GAR-Sunday-011016_158

More than a week in Arizona and we couldn’t lose them. We couldn’t see them. The big country that protected us shielded them, too. It was the posse from Hell!


We kept to the high country, hoping the cactus, tumbleweed and narrow trails would distance us.

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Scorpion Gulch was the way to the mountains and beyond. We saw a few pilgrims here and there taking in the view. They ignored us. Good for them.


This was the same trail used by Waco Johnny Dean, Long Tom and Dutch Henry Brown in the relentless chase for that Winchester ’73.

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The same trail used by Sheriff Pearly B. Sweet and the posse from Welcome and Carefree who pursued Bob Hightower, Pete and the Abilene Kid, the three Godfathers.

72-Scorpio Gulcht-GAR-Sunday-011016_435

There was no losing our posse from Hell.

Rawhide, we figured, might be a good place to lose those guys … whoever they were.

Rawhide — a place where dudes are welcome. We wouldn’t be noticed as the pilgrims sashayed up and down Main Street. Maybe the posse from Hell might have paper on a few of these strangers.

Rawhide also was a good place to grab some grub. Maybe even some shut-eye. But no time for real fun if you get my drift. Those pilgrims kept giving us shifty looks.



Back on the trail, I thought we saw an old saddle pal. He rode with us in the old days. He was a good old boy. Turned out he was dead and just a statue, probably done in by the railroad men who dogged us for too many years. Close up, our old pal still looked good. They don’t make men like him any more.

We had to move on. No sense chasing memories. We wanted to head back to the high country and the safety of those mountains. But time was running out. We knew the end was near.

Just as well. We were running low on luck and bullets.

The posse from hell finally cornered us at Wild Horse Pass. They stayed with their long guns as we faced them down. It was a long day’s siege into night.


We would not go quietly. We could see the fear in their eyes as we held our position. Clearly, we  had them on experience, as we stared across the pass and other confrontations which have blurred over the years.

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In the distance, we heard the strains of “Shall We Gather At The River” sung mournfully by the good folks at The Light of The Desert Lutheran Church. Was this a boot hill elegy?

Print the legend.