Brian Coltrane
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Posts posted by Brian Coltrane
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That is true, Traveler. It's just gonna be a little strange to see other faces connected with the names we all know.
But to see the General fly on the big screen...that's gonna be cool. So long as the new generation of Dukes do their best to honor the spirit of the show, and they enjoy themselves in those roles....I think they'll pull it off.
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The cast chemistry will make or break the whole thing, yep.
On a side note....I'm not sure how you ended up with the title "Captain Redneck", but you'll fit right in here. Heh heh! Welcome to HazzardNet.
Brian
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Hey, that's cool. When you say Cooter was on the airwaves, didja mean they had an interview with him on the radio show, or were they playing one of his bluegrass songs?
I've heard Cooter's Garage Band play a few gigs, and they're pretty darn good.
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Ya know....you're on to somethin' there. Freshest idea I've heard for the role yet.
Everything I've heard so far, seems to indicate that Jessica's got it locked in. But at the same time, WB has been kinda cagey on the whole casting issue. We'll keep an ear to the wind, and listen for the buzz of the rumor mill.
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"Good decision." Brian nudged Damascus into a walk. He kept the reins in his left hand, and the gun ready in his right, resting it on his thigh as he rode. If Chet so much as sneezed in the wrong direction, Brian could fire a shot with an upward snap of the wrist.
They rode no more than a half a mile when Chet's wandering thoroghbred gave a high-pitched call, off in the distance. It was alone and unhappy about it. Damascus answered the whinny, as did the borrowed horse that Chet was seated upon. Thus encouraged, the thoroghbred came out into the open and broke into a canter, squealing the horse equivilent of wait-for-me.
Brian allowed Chet's horse to walk alongside of them. A wave of the gun in warning kept Chet from trying any fancy leapfrogging into Red's saddle. Other than the occassional nicker and snort from the horses, the trip to town was made in an uneasy silence.
Once they were within town and riding towards the saloon, Brian broke the silence. "You know what kind of trouble you're in," he told Chet ominously. "You know the price tag it comes with. But before ah hand you over to the law, we're gonna stop for a drink and talk things over."
Brian reined in at the saloon and made sure Chet did the same. He gestured with the gun to make sure Chet dismounted first, and then continued speaking. "Ya see, I found me a few stray racehorses that just might be worth somethin' to the right buyer. Ah figure you might know of a buyer that's interested in them. So, we're gonna have us a friendly drink an' talk a little business."
Brian paused, and his dark eyes held a sharp expression. "What happens to you after that.....depends on how good our talk goes. Dig?"
(cue Chet)
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( Chet, I'll shoot you if I have to. Now, if you know as much about horses as you claim to, you'd know that Red is gonna instinctively look for more horses, rather than roam around by himself. I reckon he'll amble along and follow us, and I'm happy to work that in. I want him for evidence anyway. So, make yer choice now, and I'll ree-act accordin'ly.)
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GAH!! No, it's not what ya think! And that bottle of Nair isn't mine. Tho' the warnin' labels on that stuff outta be a bit more prominent. If ya can't use it on yer bikini line, what good is it? AAAAAHHH!!! Ow ow ow ow...
( This was all a whimsical jest, o' course. So don't ya'll get the wrong idea! )
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Dude, for fifty grand, I'll shave my legs and send you a picture. I won't win, but I'll drastically improve the odds for somebody else. BAHAHAHA!
But seriously man, we do not allow unauthorized solicitation of our Hazzardnet friends and neighbors. If your club is genuine and your contest is legit, email your club info and contest rules to the webmaster, and we'll attempt to verify that you're for real. Durin' the meantime, your post will be editied or removed.
We now return to the usual shenanigans.
Brian
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Guess I should wear skirts more often and show them off. This may explain Rosco's pechant for the occassional evenin' gown...
Man, this is a bad thread. EDIT!! DELETE!!
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Back in the outskirts of town, Brian heard the lady gambler's admissions and gave a low chuckle.
"A gambler and a pickpocket, eh? Can't say ah'm surprised. I'm just glad that you and your friend each chose the right career for yerselves." Brian added a leering wink in Min's direction.
He then turned to watch Chet stagger around. "You there," he snapped to Chet. "Git up on that horse. You n' me are takin' a ride back to town. An' you'd better keep both hands on the reins where ah can see them...if you make a wrong move, it'll be your last."
Brian glanced back at the two women who were staring up at him. "And you fine ladies of the Apocalypse can use your hind legs and walk."
(Cue Chet, or Min, or Chance)
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MaryAnne, most of us are tryin' to FORGET the sight of Rosco in drag.
Gaaaah!!
Brian
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Keeping the gun trained on the gambling woman, Brian allowed the reins to rest over the saddlehorn for a moment. He reached into a saddlebag for a canteen, and tossed it left-handed to the hellmaid who faced him unflinchingly.
"See if you can wake up that rustler. If you've already done him in, you'll face the consequences for it. If he's still alive, then you'd better help him up on your horse."
The black-clad outlaw fell silent a moment, and his dark eyes held a chill message. "For ya'lls sake, you'd better hope he's alive. Seems to me like you girls have a sweet little setup. An' you would have had me strung behind him next, if ah'd been just a little slower on the uptake. Ah don't know how long you've been bushwackin' cowboys with this distress routine o' yers, but the party is over."
The hammer clicked back on the gun.
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Dark eyes stared back at the lady gambler. "In that case, it's a lesson you could benefit from yerself." Brian paused and then gave slight wave of his gun. "Git down from the horse. Both of ya."
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Meanwhile, Brian was finding hope to be in short supply. Prayer was all that was available to him; and he employed it, for the sake of his cousins, as well as Riddick's. The ride he was getting in the Camaro was one-way, and he knew it.
Brian's conscience was such, that it would not let him put in a word for his own sake. The important thing was, Rosco and MaryAnne were safe. He would trade in his own life to keep it that way. He had to keep this team of bounty hunters off the trail, at all costs.
Anderson's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "Which way was your friend headed? What's he driving?"
Brian debated how to answer. He had to stay alive long enough to make sure Rosco and MaryAnne could regroup, and perhaps get reinforcements to protect Riddick at the hospital. If the big brute was still alive.
The rifle gave an ominous click. Brian was about to give a creative lie for an answer when Fargo interrupted.
"Don't bother asking him now," Fargo said coldly. "He's not going to tell us the truth anyway. Are you, boy?"
Fargo's eyes glanced in the review mirror, staring back at Brian, reading the startled expression in the dark eyes. Fargo's face curled up in a sinister sneer. "Just what I thought. You go ahead and think about your answers real hard. Because when this car stops, we're going to take our time tearing the truth from you."
Anderson gave a grim smile back at Brian. He was looking forward to this.
Brian kept up the local hick act for just a bit longer. "Wait a minute, now. I ain't got no interest in cuttin' my days short. I'll tell ya what you wanna know without any incentives bein necessary, awright? Then you can hang onto me long enough to see that ah'm tellin' the truth n' that you get that varmint back. Then, once you got what you came heah for, just lemme go, call it even, and we'll all forget one another."
Brian paused, and then played his act further. "Ah'll even throw in the cash I got on me. All twenty-three bucks."
At this, Fargo and Anderson broke into laughter. "HA HA HA!"
Brian frowned. "Awright, I'll throw in my free pizza coupon and a six-pack of beer."
"HA HA HA HA! Nice try, Johnny. But it's too late for bargains." Fargo turned onto a narrow, hilly road. The Camaro began to slow down...
(cue anyone!)
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When the lady gambler had burst into the livery stable, spoke of kidnapping and addressed one of the two men as "handsome," it gave Brian and Alex pause.
As the lady gambler had ridden off to wreak havoc, Brian turned to Alex. "Awright, she called one of us "handsome", so she musta been talkin' to me. 'Specially as ah know that saloon girl quite well." Brian sat back in Damascus's saddle and turned the Percheron-Arabian towards the doors. "We'll settle the questions between us later, Alex. For now, why don't you take those stolen horses n' hide 'em somewhere. Get somebody in town to help ya. I'd rather not have that two-bit rustler findin' 'em again."
Without waiting for answer, Brian nudged Damascus into a run and called back over a shoulder. "Meet ya back at the saloon!" The great black horse thundered away, building speed through it's gallop like a living locomotive.
And that's what it often felt like, in the saddle. Damascus had a belly full of grain and a few sugar cubes in him, and he'd enjoyed a nice rest eariler in the day. Now, the big horse was giving pursuit in earnest, and as he flew through town, the percussion of his hooves sent spitoons tipping over and lanterns falling from pegs.
If only the dang horse was easier to steer at this speed. Full of energy and spirit, Damascus did his best to try and tug the reins out of Brian's hands. Deviltry was in the beasts' mind, and just about when Damascus and Brian were caught up to the lady gambler, Damascus would veer off in another direction and cut a wide circle. The black horse took the chase as a game, and gave Brian hell.
"@#%&* horse!" Brian yelled, sawing at the bit with the reins. Damascus tossed his head and gave a bellowing whinny, swearing back. Only when they lost sight of the lady gambler and her horse, did Damascus realize his goofing around was likely to get him in big trouble. That could mean no sugar....or...
"I'll give you back to the Union army, ya plugged plowhorse!" Brian threatened.
Damascus flattened his ears back and dropped his head, and this time, didn't fight the tug of the riens as Brian guided him back towards the lady gambler's trail.
Then she suddenly burst back into sight, her horse running and something being dragged behind it. Damascus reared and screamed in surprise, which allowed the lady gambler and her mount to go flying by.
As Damscus put all four on the earth again, Brian squinted his dark eyes from beneath his low-brimmed hat. It looked like someone was getting surfing lessons, western-style.
Brian cursed and muttered under his breath. "Damsel in distress, mah posterior." He quickly drew his gun, sighted along the barrel, and turned Damascus to face them with a squeeze of his legs. If he missed, he'd either shoot the hapless victim in the head....or the gambler's horse in the rear. Both possibilities would mean a problem he did.
*BLAM!* Brian's first shot frayed the length of whip that stretched from the horse to the captive. *BLAM!* The second shot split it in two.
"HYAAAH!" Brian yelled to Damascus, kicking the horse into motion to ride up to the now-still form that lay in the dust. He stopped Damascus in front of the prone man, shielding the victim from further assault by the whip-wielding hellmaid.
Keeping his gun in his right hand, and holding the riens in his left, Brian waited for the confrontation. He owed the horse-theiving Duke nothing, and the law owed any rustler a stout rope....but there was nothing he trusted in this lady gambler. And Brian remembered how she'd rewarded his earlier courtesy by cracking his shotglass apart. Well, she was about to be repaid for that.
In spades.
( cue anyone )
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Bahaha! Nicely put, MaryAnne.
Honestly, let's put this into perspective. Tom grew up on a dairy farm in WI, workin' his rear end off in all temperatures, through the heat of humid summers through bitter cold winters. I don't remember how many brothers he has, but he probably grew up learning how to fight at an early age as the result of some friendly family brawls. He also survived 2 years at the University of WI Madison, which is no place for the timid. Hell, the city of Madison alone is no place for the timid, and the university itself could be used to define the term, "rowdy".
There is no way in hell, let's make it clear, let's just put this to rest right now - that Tom was in any way, shape or form - a geek. His youth and young adulthood required a lot of physical, emotional and mental strength. Whether he had to wear glasses or contacts was immaterial; it didn't hold him back.
John, for that matter, was asthmatic and somewhat overweight as a kid. I'm sure he was teased and given a hard time by kids in school. It didn't hold him back, either. I'm sure that the girls who scorned John in grade school are now wishing they'd treated him a helluva lot better.
The moral of all this is: Nobody's perfect, everybody's got something to overcome or deal with - but successful people don't give in to it.
Brian
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As the circus parade hit the outskirts of Hazzard, Brian and Alex were leaving the Sheriff's office. Chet's behavior had made them suspicous enough, that Brian felt it was worth having Rosco telegram a few other lawmen.
When the news was wired back about stolen racehorses from Atlanta, Brian was convinced that there was a connection to the tomcat-eyed Duke. He knew that the thoroughbred Chet rode wasn't the kind of horse the average cowboy could afford.
Brian and Alex left Rosco at the Sheriff's office and started combing the town. Those stolen horses had to be in Hazzard. And when they were found....that would be proof enough to take all practical measures from there.
Yep, Brian thought to himself, if that potato-faced Duke had any smarts, he'd be running a fast trail towards Mexico by now. There was nothing like offending the town Sheriff, and his kin, to really shorten a man's life expectancy.
At the same time, Brian was slightly concerned about the agenda of the blonde drifter who had befriended him. Natural paranoia had kept Brian alive though his outlaw career, and it nagged at him now.
And there was also the matter of the gambling woman, scorned and carrying a mean whip. If it wasn't for her, Brian would contemplate returning to the saloon later, for another serving of hospitality by that buxom saloon girl. But at this rate, he'd be safer ordering a carryout.
These thoughts tumbled around Brian's mind as he and Alex headed for the livery stables. They went inside the long barn and checked the rows of stalls....and when they discovered the racehorses, Brian looked at them with a grim nod.
"That answers that," he said to Alex. On impluse, he eyed the blonde drifter and asked a sudden question. "You reckon any bounty hunter might have followed these horses to Hazzard? "
Brian looked directly at Alex, the insinuation clear. If his criminal instinct about Alex was correct, then the friendship between the two men could be short-lived, indeed.....
(cue Alex)
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Howdy, John Duke!
Ya know, if the movie were to feature the original cast members, I'd say it could be as good as the show. I've always believed that the success of the show was in the rapport the cast members had for each other. Plenty of other tv shows have had hot cars in them, or some other gimmick, but Hazzard was real for us because the people involved made it real.
I think we're all looking forward to the movie with excitement and also some anxiety. It's gonna be kinda hard to imagine someone else drivin' the General. Look at the fit we all had durin' that unfortunate Coy n' Vance thing. Heh.
But it's good to see the Dukes legacy carryin' on. I think the movie will be worth the wait, so long as the script n' castin' is true to the spirit of the show. Meantime, the DVD takes us back to the place n' people we all know n' love.
Not too many folks remember the original airin' was on Friday nights. You must be a gen-u-whine longtime fan!
Brian
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Thanks to the warning from Damascus, Brian was alert to the presence in the alley. The wild gaze of the black horse fixed steadily upon the lurking man in the alley, giving Brian all the direction needed.
And so it was that Brian had opportunity to witness Chet's greeting of the local town Sheriff. Seeing this, after having the mangy local stare at him and Alex for the entire day, convinced Brian that the tomcat-eyed hardcase had been sizing them up for nefarious purposes.
It was unfortunate that the man in the alley didn't realize he'd just started a feud. A feud with someone he could not afford to have for an enemy.
As Rosco fell back from Chet's shove, Brian's hand flashed to the holster beneath his long black coat. He drew and fired, fired, fired, into the dirt near the hooves of the high-strung thoroughbred, sending the animal into a panic. Dirt and gravel flew up to bite into the skinny legs of the frightened horse, and it bolted from the alley like a cannon shot, fleeing for it's life.
With some disappointment, Brian noted that the rider had stayed in the saddle as the thin horse went screaming out of town. In any case, it was likely that the over-stimulated beast would take several miles to calm down.
Which gave Brian plenty of time. He reloaded his gun, then returned it to the holster beneath his coat. He turned to Alex with a grim smile. "Ah've changed mah mind about leavin' town," Brian drawled in a low, quiet voice. "Seems to me, that marble-eyed tomcat is too damn curious about us. Either he's collectin' hides....or he has a secret of his own he's protectin' heah."
Brian walked towards Damascus, and fed the horse a cube of sugar, calming it. He sensed Alex behind him and continued speaking. "Once we find out what that potato-faced fool has got goin' on...."
At this, the black-clad Coltrane paused, inviting Alex to fill in the blank.
(cue Alex)
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Brian's eyes showed a flicker of recognition at the blonde drifter's name. Whatever the association, he kept it to himself. He accepted the handshake and returned it, offering his own name cordially.
"I'm Brian Coltrane. Pleased to meet ya, Alex."
Before Alex could indicate whether or not the name meant anything to him - and Brian was hoping it didn't - the black-clad outlaw was leading the way to the door. "I'm thinkin' we'd better act like we got all the time in the world. Runnin' only seems to get a man chased...."
With a relaxed walk, Brian pushed through the saloon doors and stepped outside. He strolled down the wooden steps to where Damascas waited. The big black horse opened one sleepy eye at his rider and promptly winked it shut again.
Brian reached up and scratched Damascus behind the ears. "Aww, didja have a nice nap, lazybutt ? Come on, boy. It's time we ambled along..."
Speaking quietly to his horse, Brian untied the reins from the hitching post. Alongside of him, he saw Alex placing the saddlebags over his own horse.
Suddenly, Damascus raised his neck and let out a gusting snort. The Percheron-Arabian's eyes were wide and startled, the ears folded flat against the head. Alex's horse, the buckskin, was dancing nervously in place.
Trouble was near.....
(cue anybody!)
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Back at the saloon, Brian answered the blonde drifter with a grin. "It was one of the better investments in mah personal health, yeah." He glanced towards the upstairs and gave a chuckle. "Had to pay her for the broken furniture, tho'. "
He took a sip of his drink and let his mind return gradually to more serious matters. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that the local with the tomcat eyes meant some sort of trouble. And it was trouble that was looking for them. The instinctive knowledge was like a silent tap on the shoulder. Why had that scraggly hardcase ran off in such a hurry? Was there a reason the man was watching them so closely before his exit?
With an abrupt change of mood that passed through his dark eyes like a stormcloud, Brian looked at the blonde drifter and spoke his concern. "I don't know what's on your resume', man, and I don't need to know. But we've had a cardsharp pass through heah, as well as somebody that took the earrings right off a lady. An' somethin' tells me this is just the little stuff. There could be a lot to be blamed for, in this town....and I ain't sure ah wanna be hangin' around..." Brian winced at the unfortunate choice of words - "Uh, I mean, waitin' around, for fingers to start pointin' at convenient faces."
He paused, meaningfully. "Namely ours. There might be a damn good reason those other folk took off. Dig?"
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One place the Sheriff definately wasn't, at the moment, was in the upstairs rooms of the saloon. And considering all the noise, this was very fortunate.
The sound of female laughter, mixed with male whoops of delight, carried down to the bar. There was the sound of furniture being moved and more laughter. A large thud followed, as if someone had just leapt from standing on the dresser, to swan-dive into the bed. This produced an enormous racket and more sounds of tomfoolery, most of which seemed to have little to do with the sort of events that one would have expected.
Until things became quiet. Of course, the contrast in sound meant that either things were getting down to business, or the outlaw and the saloon girl had killed themselves with their horseplay. It was a question worth a bet until the more traditional noises managed to make themselves heard. And if this was able to be overlooked, the next challenge was ignoring the dust that shook loose from the rafters to drift down into one's beer.
Eventually, a masculine vocalization - one fit for attracting coyotes and timber wolves - cut sharply through the air. It was unknown whether this sound represented pain or pleasure, but in either case, the black-clad outlaw seemed to be getting his money's worth.
After due course, the upstairs door opened, and Brian sauntered out, bumping into the doorframe as he did so. He smiled distractedly and adjusted his hat. He then marched back down the stairs, whistling cheerfully, appearing peaceful, content, and insufferably happy.
He walked back to the bar, returning to keep the blonde drifter company. Waving down a fresh drink, Brian looked around and then opened converastion. "Looks like the place thinned out some. That tomcat-eyed cuss that was over in the corner....did he leave town?"
(cue Alex)
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MaryAnne, you've definately been on patrol a little too long. Fry yer hide.
Brian
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Thank ya, Dixie D!
I may be one the few people who remember the show "BJ and the Bear."
The average Knight Rider fan would be startled to know that KITT, as a base concept, first appeared on BJ and the Bear as a type of super patrol car that Sheriff Lobo got ahold of. We're talking several years time difference, so of course it wasn't the same make and model as KITT would later become...but the super-cruiser was painted solid black, and sported a light bar on the roof that was a series of red lights that moved back and forth in a sequence. The car appeared in only one ep that I can recall.
Yep, BJ and the Bear was produced by Glen Larson, and even back then he had this hang-up with the motion of a horizontal red light. Now, when ya think about the use of the semi in Knight Rider that served as KITT's mobile shelter, it's clear ol' Glen loved a good semi truck as much as he loved that moving red light gimmick.
On the other wheel, the main similarity between BJ & Bear and DOH is the antagonistic yet occassionly truce-worthy relationship between BJ McKay vs. Sheriff Lobo...it's not too dissimilar from the Dukes vs. Rosco.
I can't remember why BJ was constantly on Lobo's ticket list; could it have been because BJ was from Milwaukee WI? Was it the chimpanzee in the Oshkosh bib overalls? Or did Lobo just hate truckers as a demographic? At any rate, I do recall Lobo's character softening a bit over time; in fact, "The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo" became a spinoff series, albiet short-lived.
That's enough babble outta me - thanks again Dixie!
Brian
My idea of who should play Daisy
in Dukes of Hazzard Movies
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I wasn't familiar with that wrestler, no. But it's cool you're carryin' on the name. It's too good of a handle to be forgotten.