As a genre I've never been a fan of westerns. It's ironic considering I like the western landscape, have friends working on ranch camps, and wear leather chaps. My gun-slinging antics are always getting me into a tight spot, and I'm just as liable to solve my problems with words as hot lead.
Lately though the two shows most capturing my interest have been ostensible westerns: "Deadwood" and "Firefly". Granted, each bears little in common with the Hollywood canon. Deadwood's characters are more John Wayne Gacy than John Wayne, and the few that don't pride themselves on calculated killing carpet bomb the soundscape with enough profanity to decimate the stereotype of the terse and principled cowboy permanently. And Firefly - even if it didn't take place amongst the stars a few hundred years hence - toys enough with conventions, not just of the old west but of television storytelling at large, to forfeit the inheritance of almost any genre except "Whedonesque". Firefly's cast swears just as much as any whiskey-drenched Deadwood hooplehead - they just do it in Mandarin.
The shows, naturally, carry on some traditional western themes. Both exploit the union of frontier territory with fringe society to bring us the rough and tumble life of the margins. Both probe the nature of morality in a vacuum of law. And, of course, both were cancelled in their prime.
So here's to breathing new life into a genre I'd written off long ago. Maybe now someone will start a ska band without wearing suspenders, publish a general news magazine worth reading, or open an off-track betting establishment you'd want to take your kids to.
Being that my only prior exposure had been a few random episodes of The Wire and an Evan Dando cover, my expectations for Baltimore were mixed, but the events there this long weekend for Jason and Rachel's wedding were indisputably fun.
Special treat for the ladies: guest photographers (kudos Ben, Josh, Luke) using my camera resulted a disproportionate number of shots in which I appear.
