As a kid, I’d see Evil Dead II in video stores all the time. I wasn’t allowed to rent it, so I’d just stand in the aisle and look at the VHS art, staring at the weird skeleton guy on the front of the box; he had disturbingly human eyes. For years, I wondered about the skeleton man. “What’s his deal? What’s his name? Is he villain or hero? Does he have a personal life?” When I was 16, I finally watched…
I, too, would build Jean Seberg a cabin in California if she asked me to. I, too, would agree to a polyamorous relationship with Jean and my best friend Clint Eastwood, who owes me a life debt because I saved him from the wreckage of a bloody wagon accident. I, too, would dig a complex system of tunnels beneath the weird mining town that I literally helped build so that I could clandestinely gather gold dust through the floorboards of saloons. I, too, would wear a cartoonishly large Ambrose Burnside mustache so that people can’t recognize me in the terrible, 164-minute period musical Paint Your Wagon.