the ark of mark

I have never been much of a fan of Western movies.  I know enough about them to know that I can capitalize “Western” in this context because it is used as a genre and not a geographic adjective.  I just never wanted to watch Westerns.  They just looked depressing and dirty (in the literal sense) to me.

All that changed when my beloved DVR came into my life.  I started to get a little greedy when perusing the TV schedule for movies.  If it was rated three or four stars and I’d heard of it, I’d record it even if it was a Western.

At first I had to make myself watch.  I felt obligated to at least sample this piece of American culture.  Turns out that the Western grew on me.

My disdain for Westerns probably began when I was a teenager, when I ironically considered most grown-ups to be closed-minded sticks in the mud.  So now I’m approaching forty and I can do many things I would never have even considered as a teenager, such as drink coffee, eat sushi, play golf, watch NASCAR and Westerns, and care deeply about not just about Dow Jones but also his Industrial Average.  (Note to teenage self:  You are a buffoon).

So in the last few months I have watched Shane, Unforgiven, The Outlaw Josie Wales, The Searchers, and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.  I finally understand the fuss over Clint Eastwood and John Wayne.  I still wouldn’t say I’m a huge fan of Westerns, but I’ve definitely crossed some kind of divide (or prairie, canyon, riverbed, impasse, Rubicon, holler, etc).

And I finally learned the origin of that iconic Western musical score I’ve been hearing for years.  It came from The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly.  The movie merits watching for the music alone.  You know the music I mean.  It goes like this:

Ooh-eee-ooh-eee-ooh
wah-WAH- wah
Ooh-eee-ooh-eee-ooh
wah-wah-WAH

If you can’t tell what I’m talking about and are really curious, you can follow this link and press the “play” button near the top of the page.

All of these movies of course have some version of the same character.  He is basically a loner type with a quiet but confident demeanor, who exudes some sort of vibe that makes you suspect you probably shouldn’t mess with him, which is confirmed as soon as anybody tries to mess with him.  I’ve grown to like that guy.

But now I need to tell you about this bathroom door at my office building.  It had a truly horrifying squeak.  Drove me crazy every day, and did so for months.  It was so squeaky that over time it actually heightened my squeak sensitivity.  I started noticing squeaky doors everywhere, to the point that I often found myself wishing I had a can of WD-40 with me.  Last weekend I was at Lowe’s and saw a display of cute little cans of WD-40, much smaller than the standard size.

Inspiration struck.

I bought a little can of WD-40.  Monday I resolved to carry the can with me ALL day.  I figured if I hosed down every offending hinge during the normal course of a workday, my life could be largely squeak-free for months.  I loved this idea.  Monday morning I got out of my car (with doors that no longer squeak) armed and ready.  I was a little self-conscious as I strode across the hot, dusty parking lot.  Then it happened.

Ooh-eee-ooh-eee-ooh
wah-WAH- wah

Suddenly I was not some meek, middle-aged guy in a golf shirt carrying a fun-size can of WD-40.  I was Clint Eastwood sauntering into town brandishing a long rifle and a (computer) chip on my shoulder.  Did I care who took notice or what they thought?

I reckon not.

I sprayed both the outer and inner entrance vestibule doors.  I got the stairwell door.  Next came the (horrifyingly loud) bathroom door and the inner door that led to the locker room.  Soon I got the two doors leading to the stairway to the mail room.  Then the two doors leading to the cafeteria.  I got another bathroom door.  I proceeded to a laboratory door.  Finally I hit an emergency backup bathroom door that I only use when the bathroom nearby is being cleaned.

I was a squeak-eliminating fool.  And now my life is a much quieter, serene place. I just need to perfect me a twirl before I put this thing back in its holster.