A Loser In The Rearview

 September 21, 2026

   I give up. Such a loser statement, right? Not so fast. Check this out:

   The highest form of peace is to have no desire for admiration or even to be understood. My current goal is to do both. To simply let go of the striving. How in the hell did I get here?

   I'll tell you how.

   When I was a teenager I worked in my dad's gas station and one time I found myself holding down the fort, alone, in the office, sitting in a hardback chair looking out through the modern Phillips 66 floor to ceiling glass window at the expansive driveway with twelve gas pumps and a big sign that said, "Reg. 39.9". As I sat there, I heard a furious buzzing and noticed a very frustrated fly beating his tiny wings against the window, furiously trying to go through the glass and get outside to freedom. He wasn't alone. In the small planter at the bottom of the glass lay two dozen dead flies who obviously had attempted and failed at the same task. I don't know why, but I felt sorry for the little guy. All he had to do was back up two feet, go to the left and he'd go sailing right out the open door to freedom. But even when I got up and went over to him and tried to shoosh him out of his predicament he fought me tooth and nail and went right back at it even harder than before. I heard the driveway bells ring and went out and waited on a couple cars and when I came back into the office, I noticed the fly in the window had expired and had joined his other hapless insect-bros in the planter.

   "How stupid could a living thing be," I remember thinking at the time (in my defense I was a teenager). How pompous that sounds to me now, having spent the last six decades beating furiously against the glass of artistic and publishing success. 

   Then, the other day, I read this: "Sometimes, in order to go forward, you have to give up and go backwards. You can't advance, unless you turn around and get away from an immovable wall."  

   You know, just like that fly in the window at Al Bell's gas station on Route 66 back in 1963.

"Nothing can be gained without losing. Even the heavens demand death."

—Seneca

Sometimes Good Guys Don't Wear White

 September 20, 2026

   I was asked this question on a recent podcast: "Do the good guys still wear white hats?" And, my answer was, "No, sometimes the good guys wear a white breech cloth."

Daily Whip Out: "A Formidable Apache Foe"

      When you really study history it becomes very hard to find the white hats, which, in turn, inspired this little study. . .

Daily Whip Out: "Fort Bowie Patrol"

(from a classic photograph)

   With the glut of AI permeating everything from local ads to book covers—especially book covers!—it's interesting to note that it raises the bar in one metric, but signals "more crap" in the same motion. One fallout from this is that anyone in the arts game is going in the opposite direction. If  AI can do that, then we are going to do this. Case in point:

 

An Anti-AI cover of The Atlantic

   When anyone on the planet can access ChatGPT, then real artists are going to go the other way and do something that goes in the opposite direction: for The Atlantic it is hand drawn, crude art AND hand drawn headlines. Wow! Breathtaking in its authenticity, but perhaps Stone Age in terms of competency? The dilemma continues. . .

   Here's where I go:

Daily Whip Out:

"Mountain Lion On The Prowl"

   Excellent interview in the NYTimes this morning about a new movie I want to see starring John Malkovich and Sam Rockwell:

John and Sam: Wild Horse Nine, 

plus 

Daily Whip Out: "A Scout In Doubt"

   When he approached the ranch house he knew something was wrong. Unmentionables were scattered across the front lawn and he could smell death.

"There is more power in telling little than in telling all."

—Mark Rothko

New Times And Old Prejudices

 September 19, 2026

   I got back from my walk with Uno this morning and as I traversed the breezeway I noticed a delivered packet inside the gate addressed to "Robert Allen Bell" and I thought to myself, The only person on the planet who would use those three words together was my mother and she has been gone for more than two decades. So, I took the packet in the kitchen and got a knife and started ripping into the plastic bag and the next thing I notice is that there appears to be a white T-shirt inside. Say what? So I pulled it out and laid it on the kitchen table and this is what was on it:

A "Too New Times" T-shirt Design

(and yes, that is the Arizona Republic at top, right)

   Here's the backstory. Former employees of the Arizona Republic and the Phoenix Gazette (known collectively as the R&G) are having a reunion next month and would I like to design a commemorative T-shirt for the gathering? I told them I would give it a shot and immediately called my partner in design crime, Big D, and we jammed on ideas and ended up at the above design and copy. The guy at the bottom is a caricature I did of Bill Close, a feisty news anchor on KOOL TV back in the day when I did cartoons for a certain hippie publication. When I sent the proposed design to the powers that be in the R&G hierarchy, they deemed it, "Too New Times," as in the "hippie rag" I used to work for in the eighties, The New Times Weekly. 

   I called Big D with the bad news and just for grins he had one shirt printed and he was the one who sent me the shirt. Also, Dan Harshberger made the nod to my mother on the packet as an added humor bonus since he had heard my mom use it many times.

   So, I've got that going for me.

   If you would like your own R&G T-shirt you can get one right here:

I Want That Shirt!

"As an artist, we are reporters. Our job is to report what it's like to be alive right now."

—Robert Longo

One Wild Ride And Other Thinly Veiled Metaphors

 September 18, 2026

   Met my neighbor Todd on the road this morning and he told me El Nino has another 15 storms coming this season every bit as strong as the blaster we had on Wednesday. I told him, "Well, thank God it isn't human caused," and walked on.

Uno Under A Stormy Sky

   The end of Late Nite is here. And, by that, I mean all those shows that were born out of the Johnny Carson mold.

   Speaking of mold, here is a common site when you are seeking out true history. . .

Time Destroys Everything

   Once upon a time, The Arizona Republic had a mighty circulation of some 600,000 daily readers. It was the state's biggest newspaper and it ruled the Arizona-media landscape with 400 news reporters. Today it has perhaps 32,000 subscribers (I am one of them) and 70 reporters and it is a whisper of its former self.

   Get used to it.

One Wild Ride

   I'm referring, of course, to owning a magazine! And this will be the theme of my editorial in the next issue. Well, that, and this. . .

Classic Remington Bucker

   Being a lifelong Remington fan I just assumed he was always doing cowboys on bucking broncos, but when I pulled down my Remington Catalogue Riasonne and looked at all of his known artwork I found that for the first twenty years of his art career (1875-95), he doesn't do the classic cowboy on a bucking horse! He comes close, a soldier—not a cowboy—on a rearing horse ("A Sample Breed" 1891), then in 1892 ("A Pitching Bronco"), then in 1893 we get ("A Buck-jumper"), then in 1893 we get ("Turn Him Loose, Bill") and there's another one, ("Mounting A Wild One") in the same year, but it's not until 1895—twenty years into his illustration career—that he lands on ("A Running Bucker", above). It must be noted that this is a mirror match to ("The Sun Fisher") from the same year. Then, of course, Remington is off to the races and I haven't counted how many variations he and a ton of other Western artists have done of a cowboy on a bucking horse, but we know it is massive and we are going to run as many of them as we can in the next issue of True West.

N.C. Wyeth Bucker

   Speaking of which, I was down at Desert Ridge today and ran into Barnes & Noble to check out our newsstand rack position and there we are front and center!

   Sent this picture to our editorial and design team and got this reply from the author of the cover story:

   "Looks really good on the newsstand. Glad to see True West is holding its own with Halloween, the Middle East, alien life, and some kind of weird science. Can't believe that stack of National Geographic. Does anyone actually buy that mag?"

—Mark Lee Gardner

   I am watching the 15 part documentary "The Story of Film: An Odyssey" and it's really taking me to school. Thought I knew the history of film, but damn, I don't know Jack!

   But I do know this: Live like you are dying, because you are.

"Only dead fish go with the flow."

—Old Vaquero Saying

Lake Bozosco And Kid Antrim Antics

 September 17, 2026

   We got hit by a major storm yesterday afternoon creating an instant lake in our front yard. Welcome to. . .

Lake Bozosco

   Or, if you think I'm a sexist pig you could call it. . . .

Lake Radina

   Either way, it was a bunch of water. One of our neighbors registered 3.5 inches of rain in 24 hours. This morning when Uno and I went out for a walk we were met by a ton of debris on the road.

"All this storm drainage bums me out, Man."

—Uno

   In high school several of my baseball teammates (Charlie Waters and Steve Burford specifically) enjoyed putting a twist on my nickname and turned it into Bozosco, which is a riff off of Boze which is a riff off of Bozo. It didn't stick but I have always been fond of their rococo wordplay.

   Speaking of genius wordplay, in his novel "The Kid" when Ron Hansen is wrapping up Chapter two, where he has documented Henry McCarty's tendency towards larceny, he concludes with: "Then he rumbled downstairs and out of the Two Galoots Saloon with nary an adios for his stepfather. They'd never see each other again." Then, with a fast forward flourish, Hansen tacks this little tidbit on the end: "In 1922 at the age of eighty, William Harrison Antrim would die in Adelaida, California, in the home of his niece. At his funeral service he was remembered as a pious and highly regarded gentleman."

Daily Whip Out:

"The Kid Busted Out Along The Ridgeline"

" Contradiction is the entire point."

—Marcel Duchamp

Nancy Sheppard Still Ridin' High

September 16, 2026

   We are running a eulogy in the next issue of True West on this legendary cowgirl. 

Cowgirl Nancy Sheppard

(1929-2026)

   She was, without a doubt, one of the greatest cowgirls to ever ride a horse. She passed away in Globe, Arizona on April 8 of this year. Nancy Sheppard was 96 years old.

   She was born to a Texas ranching family on December 29, 1929. Her father was a Cowboys' Turtles Association member and her mother showed horses at the Cowtown Coliseum as a child. By the time she turned 11, she was performing at rodeos including the Pendleton Oregon Roundup and by the time she turned 17 she was performing in Madison Square Garden in New York City. She later made trick roping appearances at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and even did a stint in Italy for Giorgio Armani. She was inducted into the ProRodeo Hall of Fame in 2003 in Colorado Springs.

   She retired to Globe, Arizona but still made appearances and performed until 2016 when she was in her eighties! After that, thanks to her driver and confidant, Walter Christ, she often showed up at True West magazine events and was always supportive of all things Western right up to the end.

Ninety And Still Going Strong

Nancy and Walter at Sharlot Hall Museum

(2018)

   Nancy met Walter Christ (pronounced Chris-t) at the Superstition Mountain Museum outside Apache Junction when she performed there back in 2016. They hit it off and Walter offered to drive her to doctor's appointments in the Valley since he lived in nearby Gold Canyon. After that Walter became her full time driver and took care of her in her final days. In fact, it was Walter who kept pestering me to give her a proper send off in the magazine proving once again, without a doubt, the squeaky wheel gets the oil. AND he is still her biggest fan and champion.

   Thanks Walter, we are so thankful to you we knew her and we know in our hearts, Nancy is still ridin' high.

Nancy Blasting Into the Next Arena

"It is loss that teaches us the worth of things."

—Old Vaquero Saying

The Honkytonk Misfits Rings True

 September 15, 2026

   When it comes to old school, Arizona style honkytonks, I was there at ground zero watching it all from a drum riser.

Daily Whip Outs: "Honkytonk Mayhem"

   The truth is, I lived it and sometimes I still don't know what the hell it meant. But there are clues.

   I'm thinking of a reboot of the Heatwave Cafe scene. And, for inspiration, I've recently taken to watching old classic movies to see what I can learn. Last night I took a look at this old honkytonk chestnut.

The Misfits Gaze Off Into The Mist

("Gee, it goes on forever.")

A Misfits Outtake

(That's Marilyn Monroes' actual husband in the background laughing it up)

   The 1960 movie was filmed mostly around Reno, Nevada and the bar scenes and the trucks are so dang cool. Not to mention some of the mustang action. . .

The Misfits Fails to Take Off

   The Misfits was not a commercial success, although it did make back it's budget of $4 million. And, Clark Gable died a few days after the film wrapped (and he was only 59!) and, Marilyn didn't have long either, checking out within the next year.

  So, I have made a vow to rededicate myself to telling my honkytonk tales with honesty and all the burlesque humor and sadness left intact.

"I have decided no matter what happens, to write every day. Nothing strengthens one so much for the good. It is the best prayer."

—Leo Tolstoy