Recently, my wife and I spent a night in Milwaukee. I was there for work, and she came along just for the fun of it. We left the kids with our parents and had 30 peaceful hours all to ourselves.

When you are in the thick of raising young kids, getting away for just one night feels like a hard reset or some kind of meditative retreat that leaves you clear in both mind and spirit. It was a good trip, it was a fun trip, it was a reflective trip.

We sat outside on the roof at Benelux in the Third Ward imagining life if we never left. If we never had kids. If we never changed. If we just ... stayed.

We lived in Milwaukee for a few years before we had kids. We rented a big loft with concrete floors and high ceilings. It was just one big, barren, concrete room. The only walls were the ones separating the bathroom from the rest of the place. It was up on the eighth floor; we had a great view of downtown.

We used old shipping pallets to divide the room. We didn’t have any money back then. We still don’t, but we have more than we did. When we moved to Milwaukee, we didn’t have jobs. I convinced the landlord to rent us the apartment without proof of income or proof of employment. I don’t know if it was possible because things were just really different before, because she was just really nice, or because I was just really convincing. It was probably a mix of all three.

Cart blanche

A few weeks after we moved, we found a shopping cart abandoned by a bus stop. We took it home and used it every week at the grocery store. We would push it to store empty, buy our groceries, and then push it, now completely full, back to the apartment again, stowing it next to the front door until next week’s trip. It was efficient and worked well, and I am sure we looked absolutely absurd.

We had a great time there. Those few years in the concrete loft before we had kids gave us a lot of great memories and a great start to our lives together. But going back and visiting was odd. We hadn’t been back since we left years ago, and finding ourselves in the same places completely unchanged as people who have very much changed felt somehow wrong.

Don't look back

It felt like some strange corruption of memories or maybe like we were somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. Almost like someone might come up to us and ask, “What are you doing here?” It felt like we were taking a detour down some road that’s been blocked off and just looking around for a bit before getting back on the highway again. It was strange and surreal.

Tamer Soliman via iStock/Getty Images

Maybe it’s because life only goes one way. We can’t go back in time. We can’t change the past. We can’t revisit who we were. Maybe in some way, going back to where we lived before feels like attempting to do something we cannot do. It’s like building a replica of some old world city here in the new one. It’s just not right. It’s not as it should be. We can’t go back, and why would we want to anyway?

The path not taken

Well, I don’t want to go back and live life as it was. Walking around there, just us two, talking about how we were then and how we are now, all we could really say was that while we loved being there when we were there and that those memories are ones we treasure still, we are glad we are no longer there. I don’t just mean physically there, either. I mean mentally, spiritually, and situationally there. We very much like where we are now and wouldn’t change it for anything.

We sat outside on the roof at Benelux in the Third Ward imagining life if we never left. If we never had kids. If we never changed. If we just ... stayed. We could have very easily done all that. That kind of life could have happened to us if we let it. The years would have passed at the same rate, we would be the same age, but we wouldn’t be the same. And we both sat there together, slightly nostalgic for who we were — and grateful for who we are today.

Part of the plan

I think that’s how we are supposed to feel. All of it. We’re supposed to love those memories of youth, but we’re also supposed to cringe a little bit at our past feelings or opinions. We’re supposed to not quite respect our past selves. We’re supposed to laugh at how naive we were. It means we’ve grown and that’s a good thing. And we’re supposed to feel kind of weird going back to where we once lived. We’re supposed to feel a little out of step there in that foreign world of the past. We are no longer who we were, that’s the truth, and that’s OK.

The next morning, we left on the ferry to take us back. Watching Milwaukee disappear into the distance as we headed east across Lake Michigan, we were glad we had a day away, thankful for the lives we lived years ago, and happy we were going home to who we are today

A kid got a mint PS1 from his grandpa, and the internet is freaking out

A simple hand-me-down has turned into a lively debate about having children at an early age and retro video games.

The retro-gaming community has become a gigantic industry (worth between $3 billion and $10 billion depending on the source), so large in fact that an old box of games or forgotten console could be worth thousands depending on the condition.

So when a third-generation gamer took to 4chan to post about whether or not it was worth it to fool around with an old PlayStation, readers' brains imploded at his remarks. Not necessarily because of his apprehension over playing the system, but because he was receiving it secondhand from his grandfather.

'This is nature healing.'

The unknown gamer posted his dilemma, which was then copied to an X post; it read: "Hey guys, I got this PS1 from my grandpa. Should I play it? I know there a lot of uncs here so maybe you would know if it's good or not."

Flabbergasted, readers immediately asked if the original poster was purposely trying to enrage them with his remarks, with some introspectively asking, "am I an 'unc'?"

The new console owner calmly replied, "My grandpa is 58 and my dad is 38. He got the PS1 when my dad was 8, and my dad had me at 20, so I'm 18 now. My grandpa said he got the PS1 when it was released so he was 28 then."

This spawned a flood of comments on X, ranging from support for young grandparents to disbelief at the idea that gaming consoles are now so old that they can be passed down by grandparents.

— (@)

"Normalize being grandparents in your 50s," one X user replied, while another pointed to the grim reality that retro gamers are the new antique hunters.

"Wait until you see tube tv prices[;] we've become the old people collecting antiques," he wrote.

Other replies were seemingly more sarcastic: "What's that grey rope wrapped around the controller?" an X user asked, referring to the connecting cord.

Another reader boldly claimed it is those ages "60-70 who paid for Duck Hunt on NES."

He was not that far off. Duck Hunt was released on the NES in 1984, and a 60-year-old would have been 20 or a 70-year-old would have been 30 at the time.

Photo by KAZUHIRO NOGI/AFP via Getty Images

Others were more philosophical, stating that "Millennials understanding technology better than our grandparents was an aberration."

The user's assertion that grandparents know "more about literally everything than their grandkids," including entertainment, was enough for him to determine that society is quickly resetting itself in terms of reverting back to righteousness.

"This is nature healing," he wrote.

If nature equates to gamers scooping up old consoles, that user is right. However, PlayStation 1 is actually one of the cheaper retro systems currently on the market, likely due to the volume at which they were purchased. A used unit goes for about $100 USD if complete, or around $335 for an in-box version, according to current prices on PriceCharting.

Readers may be shocked to find out that a special-edition Nintendo 64 can sell for more than $3,700, and a single Pokemon game (Emerald, 2004) will fetch around $2,000.

Either nature is healing itself or nostalgia is. Entire store chains now exist dedicated to old video games, and it will not be long before great-grandparents are handing down their Gameboy Color to grandsons, who will likely scoff at the 8-bit monstrosity.

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Forget streaming — I just want my Blockbuster Video back

I remember going to Blockbuster with my mom and dad. It was down the street in a strip mall that was shaped like a capital L. It was on the very end and the corner.

It felt far away from our house, though I’m sure it wasn’t. Everything feels far away when you’re a kid. I had no idea how we got there either — which streets we took, how many turns were made, how many miles away it was, or even how long it took us to get there. Ten minutes? An hour? They kind of blend together when you’re a kid, and I had no real idea about any of it.

Blockbuster nostalgia isn’t really about the VHS or the strip mall, the warm smell of the tape or the quiet in the room. It’s about a longing for limitation, our secret wish for less.

But I remember riding in the back seat, looking out the window as my parents weaved the car through what seemed like a dizzying labyrinth of concrete, ranch houses, and tall trees on the way to Blockbuster.

Strip mall arcadia

Blockbuster had a distinct smell. Soft, warm, plasticky. The Louisville sun beat down through the big, long windows, coming in over the black parking lot and then falling down onto the rows of VHS tapes and low-pile carpeting.

It’s funny to think, but the chain video store almost had the same feeling as the library. Rows of neat shelves adorned with a variety of titles. A hushed hum over the large carpeted room. Late afternoon in a sun-dappled Blockbuster, searching for the evening’s entertainment.

Now we don’t go to Blockbuster. They’ve been shut down a long time, and that flimsy blue and yellow Blockbuster card was thrown in the trash years ago. Now we don’t go anywhere.

We sit at home, fumbling around with the remote, clicking through seemingly endless options on Netflix. Everything “looks good” and is packaged up real tight, and there is more of it to watch than we have time. But nothing really is that good, or nothing really seems very good. Life’s not like it was at Blockbuster in 1998.

James Leynse/Corbis via Getty Images

Please rewind

What is my nostalgia — no, our nostalgia! — for Blockbuster? Why go back to the clunky, “be kind, rewind” technology of VHS? Why would it be nicer to be forced to drive down the road and find something to watch rather than streaming whatever we want whenever we want from the comfort of our beds? Why do we want fewer options?

That last one. That’s it. That’s what the itch is. Blockbuster nostalgia isn’t really about the VHS or the strip mall, the warm smell of the tape or the quiet in the room. It’s about a longing for limitation, our secret wish for less.

We have so many choices today, we don’t know what to pick. Decision paralysis. Some of us suffer from it terribly, some of us less so. But we’re all aware of the problem. We understand the term. We all know that it’s easier to pick from three than it is from three hundred.

The problem of decision paralysis isn’t limited to what we are going to watch some Thursday evening. We see the problem with young people and dating apps. There is a sense there is always another one waiting. There are infinite partners out there. Don’t settle down; there might be a better match. Always another match. No one can make the decision to just be happy and just get married.

I’ve seen it when someone has a bunch of money saved. Too much time and nothing to do. They talk about going here or there, doing this or trying that. They hem and haw about it for months, and then years. I ask them, “What are you waiting for?” They tell me, “I’m not sure it’s what I want to do.”

Aisle be seeing you

The world is our oyster. We can do anything we want, we are spoiled rotten, and we can’t make a choice. We should be happier than ever, but we aren’t. Not really. We secretly, deep down, wish something would just take away our choices and make it all simpler for us. We would complain about it, but we would secretly be thankful for it. We can’t really do it on our own. Limiting ourselves voluntarily never feels the same as having reality do it for us.

Our problems today are, in a way, pitiful. I know our ancestors would probably mock us for our so-called decision paralysis. But they didn’t know this world. They only know the limited world. Their struggles were often physical. Ours are psychological.

That’s why we miss Blockbuster, or at least what Blockbuster represents or reminds us of. Less. Limitation. The life where we can only do so much, or see so much, where our world is a little smaller and we, in turn, feel a little greater.

Back at Blockbuster we would meander through the aisles, looking at cover after cover, occasionally flipping one over to see what else the back might reveal. After a while, we would make our choice, pay the $1.99 at the glossy counter, take the movie home, make some popcorn on the stove, turn on the TV, pop in the tape, press play, and see if what we chose was any good.

We had fewer choices, and it was fine. Actually it was more than fine, it’s really what we want deep down, even if we don’t want to admit it. That’s why we kind of miss Blockbuster in a strange little way.

A nearly perfect dinner in Door County, Wisconsin

“Perfection is not attainable,” football coach Vince Lombardi told his Green Bay Packers in 1959, “but if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence.” Do excellent people, I wonder, know when they’ve come as close as humanly possible to perfection?

Take scholar C.S. Lewis, the moment he finished writing his Christian apologetic novel “The Screwtape Letters” or singer-songwriter Townes Van Zandt, the first time he performed his wistful ballad “Pancho and Lefty” from start to finish. Did each virtuoso instinctively know his art was knocking on heaven’s door?

I suspect it won’t be the last time something magical happens at Sister Bay Bowl, a place that, in pursuit of perfection, has caught excellence.

I cannot ask Messrs. Lewis or Van Zandt, who’ve gone on to their eternal reward. But later this summer — and aptly in Lombardi’s adoptive state — I can ask the proprietors of Sister Bay Bowl, a supper club in Door County, Wisconsin.

The throwback business, which, like much of northeastern Wisconsin, is as America was, has remained in the Willems family since 1950. It was opened as a hotel, and in 1958, Earl and Rita Willems replaced their dance hall with a six-lane bowling alley. They added a supper club in 1964.

See on Instagram

The hotel no longer operates, and the dining-cum-bowling establishment today is known to many of its devotees simply as “the Bowl.” In a world demanding constant connectivity, the Bowl provides an evening of disconnection from time and place, if only for a few hours.

Over the summer years, my five children learned to bowl there. They did this while my wife, Devin, and I watched them while waiting for our table, a mutually beneficial diversion for kids and reprieve for parents. The bowling tab was always reasonable, and the wait for seating was never too long.

See on Instagram

Nobody there, it seems, is ever in possession of a smartphone. To be lost in one at the Bowl would be to miss out on the low-tech vibe — a Milwaukee Brewers game on the bar’s television being the only reminder of modernity — of late-20th-century Americana that’s on offer.

The moon is jokingly said to be a terrible place for a restaurant: great food but no atmosphere. Until I’d been to the Bowl, I never appreciated how much atmosphere matters. This isn’t to deprecate the fare, which, like many diners themselves, had been swimming in Lake Michigan merely hours before.

It’s simply to note that everyone is happy. It’s a rare spot in the cosmos where time seems to stand still and all feel they are where they’re supposed to be. A night at the Bowl hints at the eternal, rich with a sense of what mystical English poet Francis Thompson called “majestic instancy.”

Here, I fell in love with broasted anything — a Wisconsin delicacy — and rediscovered how good peaches and cottage cheese can be. Here, I do not embarrass my kids by asking the waiter to name the heartiest item on the menu. True to its Midwestern roots, everything is hearty at the Bowl.

Photo by JIM WATSON/AFP via Getty Images

Best of all, years ago, I took Mary Devine, Devin’s grandmother, to dinner there the night I sensed our large family’s dining plan wasn’t taking shape quickly enough. “Nana,” I asked, “would you like to join me at the Bowl?” I can still hear her courtly reply: “Why, Mike, I’d love that.”

As the sun set on Sister Bay, I was treated to hours of conversation with an elegant Southern woman, usually laconic, yet that night, anything but. She never went to college but had more common sense than any person I know. It was an unforgettable night.

Nana died shortly after that dinner. Our evening together turned out to be a wonderful parting gift. I suspect it won’t be the last time something magical happens at Sister Bay Bowl, a place that, in pursuit of perfection, has caught excellence.

Route 66 Diner Owners Share What They Love About The All-American Nostalgic Road Trip

People don’t visit Route 66 to change America; they come to be changed by it.

It's not just nostalgia: The '90s really were better

Nineties nostalgia is big these days.

Some are into the music. Distorted guitars and drum sets. Something more human than samples and synths.

People dressed better in the '90s. Even considering grunge culture, people dressed better. There were no Crocs in 1994.

Some are into the clothes. Old Polo Ralph Lauren on one hand and grungy baggy jeans on another. From time to time, I see young people crossing the street, and those memories of the JNCO years come rushing back.

Reflections of an unrepentant nostalgist

I’ve been an unrepentant '90s nostalgist for quite some time now. My argument on behalf of the '90s predates Zoomer nostalgia. It’s interesting to witness the rise of '90s nostalgia among young people. It feels like watching others catch up to what I already knew. It’s a rare case of feeling culturally vindicated.

What is happening? People never like what I like.

Of course, it will be short-lived. Trends go as quickly as they come. People are fickle. That’s OK, it’s just the nature of things. But the rise of '90s nostalgia isn’t just irrational sentimentalism.

Nineties nostalgia makes sense. The '90s were indeed better.

Better problems

There are always detractors. There are those who respond, “The '90s weren’t that great, you know. It wasn’t all perfect. It wasn’t utopia or anything.” That’s true, it wasn’t utopia. There is no utopia. No one is saying it was utopia. The straw man argument can be dismissed.

Yes, there were problems in the '90s. Urban crime, for one. There was a darkness to the grunge scene. Cubicle culture was as stultifying as ever.

There was an ennui looming somewhere underneath everything in the wake of the Soviet Union collapsing. With our enemy on the other side of the world vanquished, where did that leave us? Who were we without a formidable enemy? The end of history was here.

Yes, these were problems in the '90s. But here's the crucial point: None of those problems came close to what we're dealing with today.

Is the darkness of grunge really worse than the absolute nihilism we see among our young people today? No. There was, actually, some kind of vital rage to grunge. Brain-rot culture of 2025 is some kind of unholy combination of "Idiocracy" and "Brave New World."

Same for office malaise. Yes, more of us may work from home, but those homes are often as sterile as the buildings they replaced. Slack email jobs for people with no kids, two cats, and Netflix every night. Don’t forget DoorDash, vasectomies at 26, and sleep health. Grim.

Bad to worse

Our society today is far more anti-social than the society of the '90s. People are lonelier. More people avoid marriage or even dating. There are fewer children being born.

There are more suicides. More overdoses. More sexual dysfunction. More mental illness. More prescription drugs. The culture is more disgusting. The music is less human. The clothing is more dehumanizing.

Yes, there were problems in the '90s, but the problems are worse today.

Lament of a '90s kid

I remember; I was around in the '90s. I wasn’t an adult, I was a kid. And, of course, children never know what is really going on, but I do remember what life was like.

I know that there was not one bit of gender destruction going on in school. I know that not a single person in my entire childhood claimed to be a boy when she was actually a girl. I know that no one in 6th grade had unfiltered access to anything resembling the psychotic internet of 2025.

I know that almost no one was on antidepressants in high school. I know what it was like, and it wasn’t like today. I know that with my children, I have to look out for everything my parents had to look out for, plus a bunch of other stuff.

People dressed better in the '90s. Even considering grunge culture, people dressed better. There were no Crocs in 1994.

People didn’t wear pajama pants everywhere. In high school, pajama day was some weird one-off during spirit week. The lowest of the low was ripped jeans and T-shirts. Girls wore makeup more. Guys shaved more.

There was a general thrust of society that led to girls wanting to look pretty and guys wanting to look handsome. There were more songs about love. The movies were, largely, about adults and life, not super heroes and other banalities. All of this is historical fact.

Kids today

Nineties nostalgia, for those of us who were alive then, is a little less interesting than '90s nostalgia found among the Zoomers. For us olds, it’s real in a way it just isn't for the Zoomers.

They are longing for a world they never knew. They are imagining a place they have only seen in photos and videos. And it’s the aesthetic of those photos and videos they love.

Handheld-recorder aesthetic with date and tracking problems is a vibe. It’s not Super 8 midcentury. It’s Sony camcorder 1997. Something — anything! — less sterile than a straight iPhone photo. That’s the meaning of that aesthetic memory.

Were the '90s the greatest decade? No. Of course not. There is no greatest decade. Some argue that history has a fixed trajectory and that every decade is worse than the previous one. It’s a compelling argument. I can’t say it’s entirely wrong, though spending too much time thinking about that might lead to depression.

So close, so far

But why the nostalgia for the '90s and not the '80s? Or the '70s? Or the '50s? Or the '20s?

Because the '90s were the end and the closest we can get. The final sputters of the 1900s. The end of the other world. Yes, there have been many ends, but the '90s were really the final gasp. The last chopper out of Vietnam. That flip from 1999 to 2000 was the final nail in the coffin.

The '90s feel like an alternative reality. It was modern then. Looking back on 1994 isn’t like looking back at 1924. 1924 feels ancient. We can’t really wrap our heads around living then. But 1994 is near us.

The cars, the houses, the technology, the medical advancement, the people, the language, the way of life. It all feels very familiar. It really feels like yesterday, even for the Zoomers who weren’t there. It feels like we can almost reach out and grab it. It feels like we can almost get there from here.

It feels like today, but better.

Wednesday Western: The top Western social media accounts

Social media has played an interesting role in the revival of Western cinema. I’ve compiled a list of social media accounts dedicated to Westerns.

This article doesn’t include blogs, podcasts, websites, or magazines. I’m currently working on an article for each, so definitely let me know any of these that I need to know about in the comments section, or send me an email.

The following list is by no means comprehensive. And at first glance, it may seem like a random assortment. The accounts vary in audience size, output, and content organization. They employ different media and delivery methods. Some are public; some require you to answer a questionnaire. Each of them is unique.

What unites them is a frontier spirit, a liveliness.

Official John Wayne - Instagram

View this post on Instagram
A post shared by John Wayne "The Duke" (@johnwayneofficial)

It's no secret that I'm a huge fan of The Duke.

The official John Wayne Instagram page is probably my favorite Western social media account. The X account is also solid. But the Instagram account is far better.

It delivers the perfect number and flow of posts. And the descriptions, titles, and photos are all flawlessly assembled. I’d be shocked if it weren’t run by social media or marketing/PR professionals.

This is the proper handling of the John Wayne legacy. The people in charge of maintaining it make sure that the Duke’s legacy is truly an experience. All of it is interconnected through John Wayne Enterprises: the John Wayne Museum, the John Wayne Cancer Foundation, the John Wayne Grit Series, among others.

You can buy John Wayne cookbooks and a collection of cocktail recipes, coffee, ornamental cups and top-class clothing — all of which will appear in this series in exciting ways.

View this post on Instagram
A post shared by John Wayne "The Duke" (@johnwayneofficial)

All of these converge at the Instagram account.

It’s comforting to see a passionate group of people devoted to the upkeep of the Duke’s invaluable legacy.

If all that weren’t good enough, they just launched a collaboration with Broken Bow Country, a friend of the Wednesday Western series, as captured in this profile.

Broken Bow Country: Meet the 17-year-old behind a viral Western clothing brandwww.theblaze.com

In fact, during our interview, we connected on the Duke and our admiration for the official John Wayne account.

Scrolling through this account, it feels like you’re reading a biography of the Duke, told in vignettes and accompanied by pictures, music, and video.

Some of the posts are simply gorgeous. They provide a holistic view of the Duke, a man unlike any other. They offer great commentary on various Wayne films and media appearances. They help you understand who John Wayne was behind the legend, as in this post about his prolific love of chess.

Other times, it’s playful, as with the incredibly creative inclusion of holidays, like this recent celebration of National Sunglasses Day.

The posts hit every emotion as we navigate John Wayne’s love life and comforts and disappointments and truest victories.

And America, you become closer to this great country. Just check out this 4th of July post. And, man, how about this one? Who else deserves to be the biggest movie star of all time?

Just Westerns - YouTube

Just Westerns is an entrepreneurial feat animated by one man’s love for Westerns. He has mastered the possibilities that YouTube offers.

And that narrator’s voice: That’s Marc Reynard, the Englishman in charge of Just Westerns, the unofficial home of Westerns on YouTube.

This dude is undoubtedly one of us.

He examines the genre from creative and at times surprising angles, like this video about the fate of “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly 2.” You read that right: There was supposed to be a sequel.

His videos are smooth, well produced, well crafted, well written, sharp, fun, lovely, informative.

He also does something that I wish we had more of: He hypes upcoming and anticipated Westerns and compiles year-end lists and legitimizes the artistic merit of video games: “20 Best Western Video Games.” He also covers Wednesday Western favorite "Old Henry" (2021)

We need more of all of this. Best of all, you can feel his passion.

My only complaint is that the channel has only 30 videos. I went through them all at a steady clip.

But even this turns out to be further proof that you’re getting content that is authentically wholesome. Marc addresses it in his YouTube bio: “Please bear with me, I am a solo creator without the resources or manpower that larger channels typically have, so I am unfortunately unable to upload as regularly as I like, especially as I am committed to prioritizing quality over quantity.”

Take your time, brother. Personally, I think it's worth the wait.

r/Westerns - Reddit

Reddit can be a nasty place, especially if your politics are anything to the right of Bernie Sanders. And you can’t avoid the ideological slapfests, either. Leftist goons stir it up in every subreddit, constantly, and they’re almost always combative, even in the subreddits devoted to woodwork or kittens.

The Westerns subreddit is a clear exception. It’s a community. It feels like the town square of a dust-ridden Western town.

Check out this thread about “For a Few Dollars More.”

The mixed-media format of Reddit allows for a variety of sources: pictures, movies, trailers, interviews, text-only, even gifs. It might be the most versatile resource on this list.

It’s a great place for recommendations and commentary. Unlike much of the rest of Reddit, which is disproportionately loaded with young white liberal men, there’s an even spread of people of all ages.

These Redditors routinely swap personal stories about the various movies and actors. Some of their stories are poignant and evocative.

Back to the Old Western - Facebook

Facebook is a great place for Western fans. Instagram is too image-centered to accommodate text, and it doesn’t support links. Meanwhile, the microblogging experience of X is limited in its scope and impatient in its daunting pace — the temperament and vibe of Westerns don’t do well in such a frantic environment.

Facebook circumnavigates all of this, finally able to beat all the much lighter apps. For once, it finds an advantage to its cluttered user interface.

This bulk allows users to upload and share every type of content. No limitations. It’s the only platform capable of this, besides Reddit, but I’m not about to equate the megalith Facebook with the niche subreddit.

Besides, Facebook outperforms Reddit anyway. Its Pages function allows for an immersive blogging experience, run by moderators and admins who are passionate about their content and free to run their operation without much interference, right down to the parameters of the group’s privacy.

Back to the old western | Charles Bronson as Chino in classic western film 'The Valdez Horses' in 1973 | Facebookwww.facebook.com

Back to the Old Western is the perfect example of these principles. It is active, with a constant flow of posts, often aggregated from fan pages — the Duke and Sam Elliot, mostly.

The comments sections are fairly quiet, but most of the time people add substance or passion to the movie or actor being celebrated.

Chatter isn’t as important as it is on Reddit. The admins really know their stuff, offering a healthy range of mainstream Westerns, cult classics, and oddities, like this post celebrating Brigitte Bardot and Claudia Cardinale for their roles in “The Legend of Frenchie King” (1971), a wild little movie that will get its Wednesday Western spotlight in due time.

A Word on Westerns - YouTube

BLAZING SADDLES! The fart scene changed my life, says Burton Gilliam A WORD ON WESTERNSwww.youtube.com

I made a point to place Just Westerns higher up than A Word on Westerns, because Just Westerns is the passion project of an ordinary guy who loves Westerns, while A Word on Westerns is a proper television series. An exceedingly good one, with just as much passion and gusto.

It’s a fantastic channel. A Word on Westerns is sort of like a Western-only version of TMC, which is a thrilling reality. That’s the dream.

The channel features entire movies, each with a brief but thorough introduction by Rob Word, a double feature as part of the segment Word’s Wayback.

These are mostly 1930s and 1940s Westerns.

YouTube is an oddity on this list, because so many of the major Western channels exclusively post full movies. What a joy it is to find a rare Western on YouTube. But these channels lack the commentary and artistry that characterize the two YouTube channels I’ve included on this list.

A Word on Westerns blends the rustic ease of the Old West with the hypersonic immediacy of our infinite now. You can also access lectures, speeches, and clever projects like this "Gunsmoke" mash-up.

Smartest of all, it makes good use of the Shorts function on YouTube, will brief clips about various topics, from Robert Mitchum to stories of mutilation.

Western Podcast - X

The Western Podcast X page is small but mighty, with some impressive followers and praise from True West magazine.

Have you seen #HorizonAmericanSaga yet? If so, share your thoughts with us! We'll record a full podcast episode about the film in two weeks when Andrew is back from his vacation in Europe. In the meantime, here's Matt's highly positive take on Kevin Costner's latest Western epic. https://t.co/baVzZE4vPK
— @WesternPodcast (@WesternPodcast) June 28, 2024

It’s an offshoot of the marvelous podcast hosted by our friend Western apostle Andrew Patrick Nelson and the excellent Matthew Chernov, a screenwriter and a journalist with bylines in Variety, Entertainment Weekly, IMBd.com. Yahoo News, and about a hundred other outlets. His insight thrives with the joy of curiosity.

Andrew's Instagram account will keep you up to date with his media appearances and projects, with the occasional infusion of Hair Metal.

These boys are the real deal. Andrew just began his new job as chief curator of Western Spirit, Scottsdale's Museum of the West. Before that, he taught film history. As a professor at the University of Utah, Andrew guided his students through the badlands full of robbers and coyotes, only to unmask the villains hiding behind all their props and plywood scenery.

Why Millennials & Zoomers Should Watch Westerns | Andrew Patrick Nelson | Alignwww.youtube.com

Both of them are impressively smart with a tenderness for beauty, but not at the cost of a good story or a complicated hero.

They take their time with content, even tweets, but this adds to the reverence of their decision-making process. If you haven't taken the dive into their work already, do it.They have a gift for revealing the beautiful, intricate paradoxes of Western movies. They speak with screenwriters, historians, authors, journalists, musicians, directors, costume designers, and more.

They tell stories. They examine personal reactions to various films. They navigate themes of universality and timelessness within the motion of transcendence, while also exposing the flimsiness of any given cultural era.

Is Stagecoach the best movie ever made? Interview with Andrew Patrick Nelsonwww.youtube.com

They have a gift for discerning the role of Western movies in relation to our unexplained world, differentiating these fictions from their context and influence. But also, more impressively, they succeed in witnessing the presence of our entire universe in one tiny section of cinema history.

Both of them have helped yours truly at many points along our journey so far. They have guided me through the desert more than once.

Kevin Costner and Modern West - X

Kevin Costner & MW (@modernwest) on X

Kevin Costner & MW (@modernwest) on Xx.com

Kevin Costner is this era’s Clint Eastwood. He fights to keep the Western in public view, devoting himself to projects animated by passion, even if his wallet takes a hit. The victory is worth the risk.

He has ushered in a new era for the genre. His success with "Yellowstone" and its Western universe of shows has accelerated the Western’s resurgence. But it’s more than that. We're also witnessing a flourishing of the Western as an ethos, a style, a mode of thought, an approach to life.

So did you realize that Kevin Costner has a country band? Founded in 2007, Kevin Costner and Modern West deliver rowdy songs written for the culturally forgotten people of America. The band's history is tinged with tragedy.

The Kevin Costner and Modern West account is technically the band’s, but it posts tons of Costner content, all hand-picked and polished by a team of social media professionals.

Best Cowboy Movies Forever - Facebook

Best cowboy movies forever | Alan Ladd, Jean Arthur, and Van Heflin in "Shane" (1953) | Facebookwww.facebook.com

There are several variations on the “Western” + “Forever” title, but I’m going with Best Cowboy Movies Forever. I enjoy the way the account profiles various actors, like this post about Lee Van Cleef.

It also includes Westerns from every different era. This is important. It’s good to hop around in this way. I’m partial to the 1939-1960 era of the genre, so I can plant myself in that time exclusively if I’m not careful.

The page rarely ventures into the current scene. But this isn’t a problem. It’s important to offer due reverence to the originators.

Old West - Actors, Films, and Legends - Facebook

www.facebook.com

Old West zooms in so that we get a portrait view of an incredible variety of Western actors, films, and legends, like this post devoted to Myron Halle or this homage to Elsa Martinelli. I value any source that prioritizes the lesser-known figures in the genre. Because, as we all know, the Western genre is overflowing with stories, entire generations of actors, producers, directors, screenwriters — you name it — whose fascinating tales deserve to be recounted.

As much as I love the giants of the genre, I derive incredible joy from learning about these forgotten figures.

Passion for Western Movies - Instagram

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Passion for western movies (@western_movies) • Instagram photos and videos

Passion for Western Movies makes great use of Instagram’s Reels format.

The account does a lot of this kind of multi-movie post, offering a list of movies connected by timeframe or theme.

Passion for Western Movies lives up to its name, able to glide around the history of the Western genre, seemingly without partiality. It also features lesser-known movies, like this post about "The Hunting Party," which features Gene Hackman.

Broken Bow Country - Instagram

I’m a bit biased on this one, because I think Colton is an absolute legend, but Broken Bow Country is perfect for this list.

The Western experience you get is fairly rough around the edges, in a distinctly modern way. But modernity never wins against Broken Bow Country.

It’s unique for many reasons but primarily because, in addition to its Western ethos, it is a clothing retailer and printmaker. No other creator on our list offers this level of art and style.

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A post shared by Kevin Ryan (@kevin_yerp_ryan)

Then you’ve got the lore, the storytelling that comes with his posts, the war hymns of country-Western rebels and the toll their rebellion often took on their lives.

The past month has been wild for Colton. Early in July, he landed a collaboration with John Wayne Enterprises. The T-shirts are fantastic. In fact, I’m wearing one of them in the cover photo for Wednesday Western.

Then, a gunman on a sloped roof tried to murder former President Donald Trump, who was days away from officially accepting his party’s nomination.

In the panicky hours that followed, many people succumbed to their emotions, others to their resolve. I won’t pretend to have remained cool.

But Colton did. Following the Trump assassination attempt, he designed a T-shirt honoring one of the most American moments in human history, as Trump rose with his fist in the air. And he donated all of the money to a charity for Corey Comperatore, the man who died shielding his family from one of the gunman’s bullets.

This was a controversial move. He even faced the nasty comments about how the shooter shouldn’t have missed or that the deaths of the victims were “completely deserved.”

He lost a few thousand followers, but he describes it as “inconsequential when you think about the people that it's helping to support.”

In a press release, he said, “This has nothing to do with politics, I was incredibly moved by what happened and I wanted to use my platform to do something that extended beyond the controversy and the arguing.”

Lancer TV Blog - Facebook

Last and certainly not least, Lancer TV Blog on Facebook. It is run by a friend of mine, an avid supporter of Wednesday Western.

Unlike every other entry included on this list, Lancer TV Blog focuses entirely on one show, a show that hardly anyone knows. This reversal in focus is good for a movie lover’s mental sharpness.

I’m working on a deep dive into "Lancer," so I won’t say too much.

Beyond the merits of the show and its cast, "Lancer" is an underdog story still in the middle stages, badgered by uncertainty. Because the show hasn’t had a reboot, despite success throughout its two (long) seasons on CBS. So it’s not an issue of merit; the show deserves a second wind. It would very likely expand its audience.

But none of that matters for the art trapped in the murk of a waiting area, a zone of uncertainty. And the gifted athlete eventually starts to wobble. Filmstock degrades. All technology collapses. Call it the inevitable disintegration of a lively body, in this case a body of art.

Even the most perfect masterpieces eventually crumble. But what if that happens to be your masterpiece? What if it’s your tiny heaven, all tangled up in red tape? Life has enough of this disintegration as it is. Our entertainment needs to be clean, enjoyable, and easily accessible. Or so claims the majority.

Well, thank God for the passionate workers of cultural excavation. They dig and fight. They protect, sustain, and preserve. Without them, life would be less beautiful. Without them, our society would be weaker and tamer and less able to see a way out.

"Lancer" episodes run an hour. This extended run time fundamentally changes the character and depth of a TV show. It’s amazing what an episode can accomplish in one hour that it simply can’t in 30 minutes.

What you’ll find, as you scroll through the posts on the Lancer Facebook page, is purity. This fandom rewards people with a tiny kingdom, a crafted world they can always turn to. That experience should rile up every single person.

There’s a fidelity to their affection that is heartwarming. The Lancer TV Blog connects you to this incredibly pure relation. It’s just there, like sand across the winds of time.

‘Unfrosted’ Transports Viewers From 2024 Politics To The Cereal Aisles Of A Simpler America

[rebelmouse-proxy-image https://thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Screenshot-2024-06-05-at-12.09.26 PM-1200x675.png crop_info="%7B%22image%22%3A%20%22https%3A//thefederalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Screenshot-2024-06-05-at-12.09.26%5Cu202fPM-1200x675.png%22%7D" expand=1]The 'Unfrosted' movie provides a wonderful, funny 90-minute escape from the political woes of today's society.