(Editor’s note: Every now and again I get the urge to dedicate one of my posts to someone who I deem worthy of this august and I’m sure humbling honor, so today’s bit of frivolity goes out to my two newest fans, Ms. Kathi and Ms. Sus, both of whom seem like very nice ladies with decidedly questionable taste in humor. Welcome aboard, girls.)

Opening shot: Masked man in all gray cowboy outfit and a white hat riding hell-bent for leather on a large, pure white stallion as he repeatedly fires an “Old West” style Colt six-shot revolver at unseen villains, moving left to right across a western plains setting with mountains in the background. As shot opens, begin playing final measures of Rossini’s William Tell Overture. (See link below.)

Voiceover: “A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hi-Yo, Silver…the Lone Ranger”.

I always wondered who LR was firing at in that opening sequence, ‘cause they never showed who it was…his ex-mother-in-law? Bank robbers? (The Old West seemed to have a shitload of bank robbers.) The Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders? Donald Trump? The Pillsbury Doughboy? I guess we’ll never know now.

The Lone Ranger.

Lemme’ tell you, I spent more than a few hours as a kid parked in front of our old black and white TV back in the late ‘50s watching Clayton Moore, who played LR, and Jay Silverheels, who played “his faithful Indian companion” Tonto, mesmerized by the stories, the action, that amazing big-ass white horse, the fact that he only used silver bullets (later on, after the whole “TV Westerns” thing died out, Moore, having kept the silver ammo, went on to star in a cheap, straight-to-video B movie, The Lone Ranger: Vampire Hunter), and the whole mystique of no one ever knowing just who the hell this masked guy was. Each episode ended with some befuddled townsperson asking the sheriff, “Who was that masked man?” and the sheriff answers, in a voice dripping with respect and admiration, “That’s the Lone Ranger”, as you hear LR shouting in the background, off-camera, “Hi-Yo, Silver, away!”.

The story-line goes that LR, before he was “Lone”, was part of a group of six Texas Rangers (the lawmen, not the baseball team) who were cruelly ambushed by some dastardly villains and left to die, and by some miracle of TV, “Lone” manages to survive, is found and nursed back to health by Tonto, discovers a silver mine, which accounts for the bullets and the horse’s name, puts on a mask, apparently because that was the way he swung, which by the way Tonto wasn’t buying into even a little, being straight hetero only, and goes off to right wrongs, defend the little guys, stomp the crap outta’ criminals and occasionally talk some pliant young Western gal into a “hook-up” involving him, the mask, the bullets, Silver, who not surprisingly was hung like a horse, a tuba, a midget named Horace and a 55-gallon drum of Jello chocolate pudding.

Of course, nowadays, in this PC society that has evolved around us, Tonto would be a Native Canadian, being a member of the Mohawk aboriginal tribe from Canada, and Horace would be a “vertically challenged” person. And Albert Einstein would write a letter to the producers of the show, complaining about the “speed of light” nonsense in the opening, explaining that according to his equation E=mc “squared”, (I have to write it out, since I can’t figure a way to put the little “2” behind the “mc”), a horse couldn’t actually run that fast, without being converted into pure energy, which would then mean that LR wouldn’t have anything to ride on, since Silver would have been changed from matter into…shit, never mind.

Tonto always called LR “kemo sabe”, which I learned was from the language of the Pot o’ Watami and means “he looks out in secret”. (Why he spoke in the Pot o’ Watami tongue since he was a Mohawk is still a mystery to me.) Anyway, Tonto spent quite a bit of his time bailing LR out of stupid jams that he, LR, had he possessed the brains of a doorknob, shouldn’t have gotten into in the first place. The “faithful Indian companion” often looked to me like he wanted to shake his head in disgust and tell LR, you know what, white man, you’re as dumb as a cannonball in a swimming pool, I think this time, I’m just gonna’ leave you here for the bad Indians to use you as a pin-cushion. (The Pot o’ Watami Native Americans derived the name from their habit of filling large iron cauldrons with “watami” and then placing them out on the prairie for the buffalo to eat (the “watami”, not the cauldrons), which was pretty stupid when you think about it, considering how many bajillions of acres of grazing land the buffs already had available. All right, the correct spelling of the word is actually “Potawatami”, a for-real tribe from what is now the Illinois/Wisconsin area. And FYI, Gary Larsen of The Far Side fame, one of the funniest cartoonists ever in the history of mankind, once opined in a cartoon that “kemo sabe” actually meant “horse’s rear end” in Navajo.)

As it relates to modern times, at least the Lone Ranger was wearing a mask, and yes, it only covered his eyes but he seems like a pretty good guy so I’m sure we could have gotten him to cover the rest of his face as well without all the griping and bitching we hear these days every time some mouth-breathing MAGA knuckle dragger is asked to wear a mask to protect the rest of us. Geez, you’d think it was the imposition of the century, like they’re being asked to wear a ball and chain complete with steel manacles and a full coat of armor along with which we’re going to staple this 50 pound weight to your scrotum, or in the case of the female representatives of the mouth-breathing MAGA knuckle draggers, thumbtack the damn thing to your forehead, and then ask you to swim the entire length of Lake Winnebago, thusly clad, all the while chanting “kemo sabe, kemo sabe” over and over again.

Hey, LR wore one, hockey goalies wear them, bank robbers wear them, catchers wear them, Batman wore one and a shitload of guys in cheesy porn movies wear them, not that I’ve ever actually seen a cheesy porn movie, but my friends have told me about them. So get with the fucking program, all right? Geez.

Now that I have all that out of my system, on to today’s topic, which is once again, as I do periodically, answering all the letters, emails, texts, smoke signals (typically from the Potawatami folks), carrier pigeon messages and notes in bottles, asking for my advice on my reader’s love lives.

Yeah, like I have a clue…the last time I had a date, buffaloes were eating watami out of big iron kettles on the prairie.

And so…

“Dear Cap’n John:

                I hope you will be discrete with this inquiry, as I have to remain onmagneto, or whatever the hell that word is. I’m a hetero male in my early 30’s, virile and studly, but I’m having serious problems attracting a good, decent pioneer-type “little woman” to settle down with and raise little cowboys and cowgirls. I’ve tried all the typical singles places, the saloons, the church socials, the barn raisings, some quilting bees, even went to a Singles Bronco Busting Night once at the local rodeo, and nothing. I wear a mask as part of my work, and I thought, gee, maybe some of the ladies will think that’s kinky and, you know, express some interest, but nope, not a one. I’m getting tired of it being me and my horse, out on the prairie, just the two of us…shit, even Silver is starting to look pretty good to me. Can you give me a “hands up”, Cap’n John?

                Riding The Range Alone, Ranger”

Dear “Ranger”:

                You know, I’ve heard you frontier types weren’t real big on personal hygiene…maybe get the smell of buffalo dung off your boots and try splashing on a little Eau de Horse Blanket and you might have better luck with the gals.

“Cap’n John:

               Tonto here. Have heap big problem with squaws, no can find any that don’t already have little papooses in their tee-pees. Tonto need help finding Indian maiden who like Tonto, want to smoke peace pipe and make wampum with Tonto. Have much silver from big, dumb white man with sissy mask, so Tonto okay for money. Need Cap’n to say where all the fine, young Pocahontas’ are. Cap’n please send smoke signal soon, help Tonto pronto. Thank you, kemo sabe.

                Quiver Full Of Arrows, Nowhere To Shoot”

Dear “Quiver”:

                Have you tried the Squaws R’ Us Dating Service? Heap big medicine.

“Dear Cap’n John:

                I’m a vertically challenged person who is having difficulty finding a soul-mate who sees life in the same way I do, that is, at a very low level. I’m financially secure, having been very successful as a partner in a silver mining business, have all my own teeth and hair and a closet full of hip, trendy size XXXX Small clothing that should impress any young (tiny) woman I meet. I don’t want to go on the Internet to one of those online dating services like Loving Munchkins or Tiny HeartThrobs because it just seems like a shortcut to me; I’d rather find a source of eligible bachelorettes to possibly hook up with and spark a romantic fire, even if it’s just kindling at first, rather than logs. I could sure use a hand up, Cap’n John…can you be a big man and help me out?

                If This Were Baseball, I’d Be A Shortstop”

Dear “Shortstop”:

                Tell you what, the short version, I’m afraid my answer might go right over your head.

Looking at the word counter thingie down in the corner of my monitor, I see I’ve gone over my limit again; time to get astride my mount and ride off into the sunset.

Love and saddles,

Cap’n John

Thanks to Rick Kirkman and Jerry Scott for the above. 


“Testing…testing…(turns away from microphone and speaks to person behind him sotto voce…yeah, and if we didn’t test so much we’d have fewer cases, according to that idiot in the White House)…testing, one (turns away again as the PA system lets out a squeal of feedback), two, three, ah, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, I’d like to get started, so if you would, please find your seats, please, if you would, please find your seats, everyone, please, can everyone have a seat so we can get going, I have quite a number of items to cover today, please take your seats…thank you. We have a full agenda of department reports today that I need to share with all of you, so without any further ado, I’ll get started.” (Sotto voce again to the guy behind him)…”Geez, what a bunch of maroons…”

FYI, sotto voce is Latin for “marmot testicles”.

>From the I Guess The Next Step Is To TP All The Trees In Seoul Department…Earlier this week, Supreme Leader, Marshall of the State and Chief Notary Public of the People’s State of North Korea, Kim “Rocket Man” Jong Un, threatened to “pour leaflets of punishment” all over his South Korean neighbors, apparently in retaliation for their existing. SLMSCNP Kim was quoted as saying that, if the people of the Republic of Korea continued to irritate him merely by being, he would escalate the already high tensions between the two countries by directing the North Korean Army to begin shooting spitballs over their common border. ROK President Moon Jae-in angrily responded that if Kim persisted in his provocations that he would tell the teacher and have Kim taken to the Principal’s office to get his peenie whacked.

>From the Damned Good Thing There Isn’t A Minimum Height Requirement To Be A Guitar Player Department…Did you guys know that Paul Simon, one half of the singing duo of Simon and Bullwinkle (wait, weren’t they cartoon characters?), is only 5’3” tall? According to WikiPedia, my go-to source for information, not only is the diminutive Simon a gifted singer/songwriter but also an aspiring actor; the article on the Internet encyclopedia points out that Simon at one time intended to audition for a part as a Munchkin in the movie The Wizard of Oz, but was thwarted in his attempt to break onto the silver screen by the fact that the movie was made in 1939, while Simon wasn’t born until 1941. When asked about his desire to be a thespian, Simon said that at no time has he ever been bi-sexual, but that you can call him Al. (Well, WikiPedia doesn’t really say all that stuff…I made up the part about Bullwinkle.)

>From the I’m Surprised They Didn’t Call It Dueling Tubas For Crissake Department…Okay, someone please explain this to me like I’m a five year old…I have listened to dozens of versions of the song Dueling Banjos and I can only find one version where it was one banjo in conflict with another banjo, per the title of the tune. (I remember the first time I heard the title, I thought to myself, I wonder if they stand back to back, take ten paces and then turn and play.) I’ve seen banjos battling guitars, fiddles, mandolins, a zither, a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader and a Cuisinart, but no banjo y banjo. On this YouTube video about the origins of the song, at 5:56 there’s a thing between comedian Steve Martin, who is by the way a fabulous banjo player, and a young man who won first place in the Steve Martin Prize For Excellence in Banjo competition, and even then they only play the first few measures before Noam Pikelny, the guy who won the $50,000 prize, takes off on an unbelievable riff that has little to do with the actual tune. Even the original was played with a banjo and a mandolin. So why the hell did they call it Dueling BANJOS? Shit, the composer could have called it Song For A Marmot and it would have been just as descriptive. Geez…

>From the Now That’s A Special Kind Of Stoopid Department…A megachurch (what criteria exactly does a church have to meet to become MEGA?) in Phoenix AZ, the site of the next rally for President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump, has declared that it has “solved the pandemic problem” in its auditorium due to the efforts of one of its members. Senior Pastor Luke Barnett and Operations Officer Brandon Zastrow have stated that the revolutionary air-purification system recently installed in the building removes “99.9% of the coronavirus and none of our bullshit” from the air, making it safe for all the Make America Great Again nut-cases to attend the rally. The church was apparently chosen for the gathering because it only seats 3,000 persons, which given the debacle at the BOK Arena in Tulsa OK last week, in which the President was only able to fill approximately 6,000 of the 19,000 seats in the venue with his rabid followers in his first political rally in months, would seem to make it much easier for our rather rotund, verbose President to fill. ***BREAKING NEWS***…this just in from our news room: the rally for President Trump at the Phoenix AZ Dream City MegaChurch may have to be postponed when it was learned today by church officials that the member who invented the miracle air filtration system, Bea L. Zebub, made a deal with the Devil to perfect her invention and has since left the church in disgrace. (FYI, I’m writing this on 6/23, the day of the scheduled event, so I apologize for all the weird tenses.) Anyway, here’s a Cap’n John quote you can write down and stick on your ‘fridge…”Faith is often times ignoring the obvious to embrace the absurd.” You’re welcome.

>From the I Bet It Was Due To Irreconcilable Differences Department…Florida just finished going through its annual “lovebug season”, where literally gazillions of the small, black and completely disgusting Piecia nearctica invade the Gunshine State, wearing outlandish costumes and swarming all over everything and generally making a fucking mess everywhere. The term “lovebug” stems from the fact the male and female of the species, apparently awash in post-coital bliss, stay stuck together end to end after mating, until the female has had enough and tosses his lazy ass out, telling him not to return until he has found a job and can remember to put the seat down. I mention this because just last week I saw a single bug, sans mate, on my screen door, and I thought to myself, because no one else ever listens to me, that the poor thing must have been the victim of a conniving partner and a sleazy divorce attorney. FYI, sans is Burmese for “marmot testicles”.

>From the I Guess Wilma and The Nimrods Was Already Taken Department…It is a rare time indeed that I am (mostly) speechless, but I have no comment on this YouTube video (see link below), other than to say that I love the dog as well as the banjo player’s nose ring. Spoon Lady and the Tater Boys. (Oh yeah, and you gotta’ love it when the “bass” player does that four-note “walking bass” run that takes the song into a new verse…it’s all the same note, instead of a progression of four ascending notes, but it still sounds pretty cool.)

>From the Was This Why My Mother Always Said To Make Sure I Was Wearing Clean Underwear? Department…I recently set up an Instagram account for myself and the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding website (@capnjohnk) so I could shamelessly and frequently self-promote the WATRUK blog and my deathless prose as well. Once I learned the ins and outs of posting, put up a few notices of new columns and checked out a few friends, I got to thinking that, and I know this would be a long shot, but that it was just possible, just barely, if you weren’t paying attention when you were creating a new entry, that you could, if you happened to have some naughty pics of yourself and your pet marmot on your phone, with you dressed in your favorite Little Red Riding Hood costume (complete with frilly panties), accidently use the wrong pic and, whoops, oh well, there it is for the amusement of all the world. Sure, you could delete it, but what if you didn’t realize you’d done it? Like living in a state that was carried by Donald Trump in the 2016 election isn’t embarrassing enough, right?

>From the I Bet Walter Kent Wishes He Would Have Thought Of This Department…I was talking to a friend (I have two) the other day about Christmas (don’t ask why we were discussing this in late June, we just were, okay?) and somehow we got on the subject of Christmas song lyrics, and I casually mentioned that it was my humble opinion that changing that line in I’ll Be Home For Christmas, written by the aforementioned Mr. Kent, from “presents under the tree” to “PEASANTS under the tree” would make the song a lot funnier. PHEASANTS works too, but it’s not as funny.

I want to thank you all for your being here today and for your attention…if there is no other business (geez, I hope not), I’ll adjourn the meeting.

Love and quorums,

Cap’n John