It is difficult to be a cowboy these days ....It has been noted by those with greater expertise than we here at the Fram Institute and Repository of Knowledge and Similar Useless Facts that much can be learned about a man by examining the way he squeezes a trigger. It is a reflection of the inner man, it sings the song of his soul and recites the poetry of his heart, among other things.
Having been in the U.S. Marine Corps, our Fram has a considerable amount of "trigger time," as the guys fondly call it. Possibly, we will be able to persuade Fram to sometime tell his story about how he became lost leaving Reno, ended up snowed in at Donner Pass and, more-or-less, was shanghaied into the Corps. Although somewhat reluctant, when he found out there was free room and board and as much ammo has a young man could ever wish to shoot, he decided to hang out there for a while. But, that story is for another day.
If we look to the top left of our illustration, we see James Bond the First and James Bond the Last. The First is holding a Walther PPK, in exact specification of the second weapon carried by Bond in Ian Fleming's series of novels. Fram likes that. The Last is carrying what appears to be an indistinguishable piece, to which a silencer is attached. Although Fleming's Bond may have used such a weapon (Fram merely read the books; he did not memorize them), it was not his norm. Fram does not like that. The First looks suave, debonair, ready to mingle with the "beautiful people." The Last looks mean, angry, brooding, ready to kick butt. Beginning to know him as you do, which do you suppose Fram would choose to emulate? (That question actually might be difficult to answer and, maybe, the answer is neither.)
Next we see Lee Marvin, a genuine gunman among actor gunmen. He knew which end of the weapon to point downrange. He knew how to be the gangster, the lawman, the soldier, the cowboy, the comic of all comics. Yes, Lee certainly had the potential to be a very good role model for Fram.
Then we have Slick and Slim, two pretty boys who did ok for themselves. No, this is not Fram's usual style. No pretty boy stuff for him. (Good looking? Most certainly, just not "pretty.") On the other hand, these two did do a fine job in whatever role they undertook in life or the movies, and Fram does enjoy watching them perform. It certainly is possible he would squeeze the trigger in a manner similar to either gentleman.
Back to the left, we are, and at the bottom rung. There is Clint the Younger and Clint the Elder. How did Clint the Younger keep a straight face while posing for that photograph? Fram just pointed out to me that the Younger carries a Smith & Wesson .44 magnum, the old style, and that the Elder carries a pair of Colt's Navy revolvers, plus what appears to be a Colt 1849 Sheriff's Model. What does this symbolize? One revolver for the Younger; three revolvers for the Elder. Fram does not care to speculate. He wishes to move on. Keep the faith, Clint. See you around.
We have arrived at the end of this evening's illustrations, where there are two guys, one with straight black hair and the other with curly black hair. No matter what their differences might be, they both hold near identical selections in handguns: Each grasping a 1911-style, .45 semi-automatic pistol. These guys are the actual Blues Brothers, Soul Brothers and Brothers Grimm rolled into one, no matter what anyone else might tell you. On some days, Fram thinks that these boys have so much in common with him, they actually must be emulating him rather than he them. Make sense? No difference. Maybe neither. (Love a good mystery?)
Well, no reason to make the call right now. Squeezing the trigger requires contemplation and art, as well as skill and steady nerve, so it makes sense that time also is required to discern the individual Fram most emulates. In fact, Fram says this might be a question best left unanswered.
Thus concludes the "Get to Know Fram Better" series.
Incidental of the evening:
There is light rain, and the temperature is warm: 50 degrees, which is warm after winter in Minnesota. The wind has been ripping for about two days, 30-plus miles-per-hour with gusts topping 50. I stood out in it, face into it, for a few minutes just minutes ago. Very refreshing, very nice, very soothing. Made me think of canoeing into the wind, into the waves. Meanwhile, snow predicted for Wednesday.
Now I am tired of being Japanese,
The daimyo said, after a certain war.
Let there be a kempt jungle in a valley
And from it rise
So that you look through horizontal blossoms
A tall, unmoated fortress where the dolphins
On the gables, tails in the sky,
Swim from the separate quarters of the kingdom
Without thinking;
And with a balcony to every hour
Facing the hills, apart,
Where a sweet particular girl will say the truth
Over and over until I take it in.
"Picture of a Castle"
by William Meredith
