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Brian Coltrane

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Everything posted by Brian Coltrane

  1. Brian accepted Cully's handshake, and looked at this newfound relative with friendly curiosity. "Long-lost cousin, eh? Ya know, MaryAnne had tol' me once about Rosco havin' an identical cousin, but I thought she was just pullin' my leg. Khee! The way this family tree works, I'm gonna find out that I'm my own uncle or somethin'...." After the handshake, Brian regarded both Cully and Rosco for a second, stopping his banter and becoming serious. "Awright, y'all had mentioned somethin' about MaryAnne havin' am-nesia. Given the recent misunderstandin' I had with her in town, I'd say that's likely. She thought I was ransackin' the store and pulled her gun on me. I reacted kinda strongly to that, not knowin' what the hell was up....an' now the whole damn thing's a mess. " Brian turned his dark-eyed gaze to Rosco. "Under the circumstances, I'd best avoid MaryAnne for awhile. I'm gonna ask you to take me at my word that I wasn't lootin' the store. I was lookin' to see if anybody was trapped in there....an' when MaryAnne showed up and accused me of theivin', I kinda played it up, thinkin' she was horsin' around. It's my word against hers, cousin Sheriff. But until MaryAnne gets her marbles back, there ain't gonna be no sortin' it out." With a parting glance at both Cully and Rosco, Brian took a step back, preparing to leave. "Take care of her."
  2. "GAAAAAAAH!!" Brian jumped and spun around like a spooked cat, startled by the sight of Rosco standing there in uniform. Brian's dark eyes were a little wild as he glanced from Rosco, to Cully, and then back to Rosco again. Finally, Brian cleared his throat and managed to speak. "Rosco, I gotta hand it to ya. You really got me surrounded this time." (Cue Rosco or Cully!)
  3. "Oh, so now yer a ventriloquist!" Brian took a step closer to Cully. "Throwin' your voice, thinkin' I'll turn around so you can get the drop on me. Like hell! Cheap parlor tricks ain't gonna fool me! An' if MaryAnne has am-nesia, then ah've got deja vu'....'cause I've heard this all before!" Brian paused, seeing that the object of his wrath - whom he still believed to be Rosco - was holding back a grin with obvious effort. Annoyed, Brian folded his arms and asked a single question. "Awright, what the hell is so damn funny?!" (Cue Rosco!)
  4. ....and ferreted out by the tidbit of news, Brian ventured from the temporary refuge he'd found in a battered garden shed. While knowing that curiosity could kill a Coltrane, he couldn't resist the explanation that was being offered. He jogged up to the Grand Prix and signaled for it to stop. "YO! Hang on there, man..." The car stopped, and Brian walked up to the driver's side. "Awright, what's this about amnesia? How did - GAAAH!!" Brian's dark eyes narrowed, and a frown came to his face. The man looking at him from behind the wheel looked a helluva lot like Rosco. Brian figured he'd been duped, and he gave a slow nod at the conclusion. He had no idea that he was about to deliver a rant to an innocent look-alike. "Clever," he said with a soft growl, "Very clever, cousin Sheriff. Ya baited me with that one. Amnesia, eh? Amnesia, mah posterior! An' don't think that you bein' outta uniform is gonna give me any reason to get into that car with you. I ain't givin' out no free arrests today!" Brian carried on, venting his agitation. "I don't know what the hell MaryAnne radioed to you, but it's all a damn mistake! I wasn't stealin' nothin'! But nooooo, y'all assume worst-case scenario n' get all itchy because I was seen holdin' a damn two-slice toaster. It's a good thing it wasn't one of them dee-luxe four-slots! That'd be a Federal case! Well. if you're gonna bust me over diggin' through junk in an effort to try n' find MaryAnne....you can just go ahead and try yer luck! An' don't expect me to be home for dinner, either! There's somethin' about a police-issue Colt bein' pointed at me that dulls mah appetite!" Fully engaged in his triade, Brian didn't notice the person who had walked up behind him to overhear the whole thing.... (Oh, whattaya think, should we cue......Rosco? Heh heh...)
  5. Brian ran without looking back. The end of the alley opened up to a sidestreet behind Rhuebottom's, but this put him out into the open without any cover. He couldn't risk cutting back over to Diablo; there were too many people hanging around the store, and the fuss between him and MaryAnne had probably drawn attention. Brian turned the corner, flattened his back against a building, and heaved in a few breaths. For the life of him, he didn't know what to do. What the hell had gotten into MaryAnne? It seemed she truly thought him guilty of looting the store...or worse. And in his playing around, he had done nothing to speak of his innocence. If anything, he had convinced her of his guilt. "Aw, man..." he muttered to himself. Well, he'd found MaryAnne, that was for damn sure. And now, he couldn't afford for her to find HIM. Vaguely, he thought of trying to find Rosco over in Tri-County to explain things...but if MaryAnne was after him, and believed him guilty, Rosco would be more likely to take her side of the story than his. If he faced any of his kin right now, he'd risk ending up in handcuffs. That's assuming MaryAnne didn't reduce him to a chalk outline on the street after the unfortunate Toaster Incident. He felt bad about pulling that move, but criminal instinct had taken over. Just as MaryAnne's cop-instinct had taken her over, for reasons he didn't understand. With a heavy heart, Brian left the scant cover behind the building, and ran across the backstreet, heading for a row of strom-damaged houses. He had to hide somewhere. Fast.... (cue anybody!)
  6. Nothing removed a grin as effectively as a loaded gun, and Brian's smile evaporated. The blue ice in MaryAnne's eyes stared him down and dared him to twitch the wrong way. Evidently, something was amiss...and boy howdy, it was amiss in a big way. The adam's apple of Brian's throat made a short bob, the tight swallow showing his tension. He gave a sigh and let his shoulders slump down, the body language indicating surrender. "Awright," he said quietly, and dropped his dark eyes to the sidewalk. He took a slow step back, and made as if to turn towards the car.... ....but he still held the toaster cord in his right hand, and suddenly he swung his arm back in reverse-whip motion, the backswing bringing the toaster up by the cord to knock the barrel of the gun towards the sky. The appliance met pistol with a jarring impact, the immediate BLAM! sending a bullet skyward. Brian followed through with the motion, winding back for another trick. This time, he let go of the appliance cord halfway through the loop, pitching the toaster underhand at MaryAnne's midsection while she was still off-balance. It wouldn't really hurt her, but it would sincerely piss her off. In any case, she'd have to catch it out of self-defense. The toaster sailed at MaryAnne, and Brian dove back into Rhuebottom's, hurdling over the scattered merchandise and performing one of his better leaps for freedom over a fallen shelving unit. He heard noisy commotion from the store's entrance, and knew that unless he found a fast exit, he was going to be...toast. Escape came in the form of a side window, which Brian smashed open by heaving a paint can at it. He was through it and gone in an instant, running down the alley as fast as his boots could take him. Which, given the incentive he had, was pretty darn fast. (Cue MaryAnne! )
  7. Startled by the unexpected voice behind him, Brian spun around, toaster in hand, and beheld the sight of his cousin. The relief of seeing her alive and well caused him to overlook her aggresive stance. He took MaryAnne's words for a joke and sauntered up to her, dragging a toaster by the cord behind him. The appliance scraped across the floor like child's pull-toy. Brian stood in front of MaryAnne and smiled broadly. The fact that she had greeted him with such sass didn't phase him; the age-old game of cops and robbers happened to be a Coltrane favorite. Unaware of MaryAnne's missing marbles, Brian reached out and flicked her badge with a tiny ping, giving his best badass grin. He squared his shoulders and straightened his spine, the black leather jacket hanging open and ready to reach into. It was all a mock threat, but since MaryAnne was teasing him by having her hand resting on her gun, what the hell. "If it aint' the long arm of the law," he said to her, giving a drawl right back. "Here to nail me with a charge of Grand Theft Toaster. Well, you'll nevah take me alive, Deputy. " (Cue MaryAnne! apologies to the rest of ya'll, but let us have a couple volleys back n' forth...n' then we'll open 'er right back up!)
  8. "Huh?" Brian glanced over his shoulder at the voice, and saw Chance grinning at him from the driver's side of the Bronco. His quick glance was focused on the driver, who was closest to him - he never noticed the passengers. "Aw hell...it ain't how it looks," he answered, turning back to the task at hand. "Doc, I'm glad you're awright - that's one prayer answered. But nobody's seen hide nor hair of MaryAnne or Hilery..." Brian ducked back inside the store, and there was the sound of something heavy being moved around. He carried out a color TV set and sat it on the sidewalk, not looking up. "I been askin' all over town, n' nobody's seen 'em for sure. Figure if they're anywhere to be found, it's under some heap of wreckage. That'd be just like MaryAnne, too. Git herself buried alive under a thousand pounds of junk....@#%&*...." Despite the cussing, the dire concern was obvious. After noisly shoving out more merchandise, Brian paused for breath, leaning against a shelving unit he'd pulled from the mess. "Gah...I nevah knew how much inventory they had in stock here, until I'm havin' to pick through it! Doc, if you see 'em....let me know, eh?" With that, Brian continued his clearance of the store, trying to work back to the worst of the damage. In the back of his distracted mind, he wondered why Chance seemed to smirk at him. Well, he couldn't worry about it....MaryAnne could be buried under yesterday's overstock sale of toasters. Intent on his quest for life beneath a mountain of small appliances, he didn't notice the figure standing at the doorway, observing his behavior.... (cue MaryAnne! If you feel like getting out of the truck. Heh heh.)
  9. While everyone else in Hazzard was getting counted up and accounted for, one stray Coltrane roamed around loose. Diablo had made it through the terrible storms with nothing more than a broken CB antenna, thanks to the secure parking spot in the alley between two brick buildings. Now, the big Chevy trundled slowly through the damaged town, driving carefully around fallen trees, utility poles, and scattered debris. There was no sign of MaryAnne. She hadn't been in the courthouse when the storm hit....and she had not been found at the bank. By Brian's estimates, MaryAnne should have been in town when the whole thing happened. He stopped Diablo in front of Rhuebottom's general store, which looked torn asunder. After asking a few townsfolk if MaryAnne had been seen going in there - and getting no clear answers - Brian decided to check it out. He had to move around shelves that had fallen over, and move merchandise that was piled in heaps. There was nowhere to put anything, hardly any room to walk, so he began to pile things outside the door. Diablo was parked in front of the store, not far from the displaced goods. Busy with the search, Brian gave no thought to how this appeared on the street. Looting was the furthest thought from his mind... (cue a coincidence! Doc, MaryAnne, Hil, you wouldn't happen to be rolling into down about now, would you...)
  10. Brian answered Boss's anxious question with the only information he had. "Doc Walker is out of town. She wasn't here when it hit. Far as the Strates have told me, everybody else is accounted for, except...." At this, the words trailed off, and it took some effort to speak the names. "...for Hilery n' MaryAnne." Brian's dark eyes scanned the storm-damaged town, his hope fading. Worst-case scenarios flipped through his mind like cheap postcards, each displaying another tragic scene of how MaryAnne might have met her end. Grimly, he pictured another possibility...that she was trapped somewhere, alive, but in peril...what if live power lines had fallen on her patrol car, and she didn't dare move? What if she had tried to rescue someone, but had forfeited her own life in the attempt? She had always been too damn brave for her own good... As the wail of fire trucks and ambulances pealed through town, Brian could only wonder if Hilery had been with MaryAnne when the storm hit....and if the fate of one, was the fate of both. There were two choices; stand around and wait for news... Or go out there, in the mess, and try to find them, when they could be anywhere in Hazzard County. Option number two won out, and Brian adjusted the collar on his jacket, firmed his jaw, and set out to investigate. "I'm goin' lookin' for 'em," he said to the group. "I'll meet up with y'all later." As his long strides took him towards Diablo's hiding spot in an alley, he sent up a silent prayer, willing to bargain with the Almighty Himself. (cue...MaryAnne! Scooby Doo, where ARE you?!?!)
  11. "What am ah doin' under this piano?" Brian drawled in answer. "Makin' mahself an organ donor! Now git this @#&*% thing off of me!" Enos and Val moved the debris that was weighing down the piano. Then the two of them carefully lifted the piano up, just enough so that Brian could crawl out from under it, his black-clad form slinking into view like a cat that had been hiding beneath the furniture. The piano was eased back down to the floor, lest some shifting of the house cause it to topple again. Brian accepted a hand from both Strate's, standing up slowy. Despite a few dozen assorted aches, nothing was broken in the Coltrane body, and after shaking the dust from his hair, Brian regarding the two people who had effected his rescue. "Thank ya both." Brian shook Val's hand and hugged Enos, rather than the other way around, just to be a smartass. It proved, however, that he truly was alright. His grin faded after a moment, as his mind turned to the fates of everyone else in Hazzard. "Daisy was the only other person in here, that I know of...." he said worriedly, casting a look around the mess. "I don't know about anybody else. I wasn't here all that long when it hit. I nevah did find MaryAnne, n' I was lookin' for her...good Lord, and Rosco was on his way someplace, last I knew." Brian's dark eyes flicked back to the Strates, pleading for news. Preferably, good news...but he prepared himself for the worst. (cue anybody!)
  12. Consciousness returned and brought a drum corps with it. Over the percussion in his head, Brian heard the sound of footsteps and voices. He stirred weakly, finding himself stomach-flat on the floor, an impossible weight holding him pinned. The last thing he had remembered was finding the Doctor's note on the old upright piano, saying she'd be out of town for a couple days....Daisy had just walked in, too...he'd been about to read the note to Daisy... ....and then, there had been a tremendous shattering of the world, the abrupt storm turning the house dark; the wind and thunder clamouring as if it were the arrival of armageddon. But Coltrane luck had been with him. He had dived for the floor, instinctively, as the house sounded as if it were coming apart around him. The Doc would be pleased to know that her antique piano had survived the mess, as Brian had thoughtfully cushioned the floor with his body. The piano fell over on him with a disjointed chord, the C sharp leaving one Coltrane flat. "Gah...." A jacket-sleeved arm reached out and grasped around in the debris. The flashlight shone upon it.... *Cue Val*
  13. Be careful driving! Better yet...call the whole thing off, stay home, and play with us. Seriously, have a safe trip. We'll miss ya. And I might just stowaway in the trunk, ya nevah know. Is there food at the reception ? Open bar ? Brian
  14. "Vet ? Oh, yer talkin' about the dog. Khee. Ah was gonna say, I'm completely up to date on my rabies shots. " With a mild grin, Brian surrendered the puppy to Val. The puppy, however, did not surrender Brian. With a growl and a wagging tail, the pup kept a lockjaw hold on the jacket-covered arm. "Awright, lay off, killer. Come on...." Gently, Brian worked his arm free while Val kept a firm grip on the puppy. The disappointed yip was followed by a long whine, and the dog's big brown eyes looked at Val and Brian in mute appeal. "Don't gimmie those puppy-dog eyes," Brian muttered. He gave the animal a last scratch behind the ears before turning for the door. "Catch ya later, Game Warden. Good luck with the tree and the dog. Tho' in this case, one's bark ain't as bad as the other's bite...heh heh."
  15. Howdy Renee! Nice to see another new face in town. Welcome!
  16. "Tree? Oh, you mean that big ol' oak Boss is fixin' to cut? Ain't heard much in the official way, but it seems destined for firewood. Tho' given the size of that oak, if they don't cut it down careful-like, they'll wallop half the town when it falls." Brian absently played tug-of-war with the puppy in his embrace, letting the dog fight with the jacket-covered arm. "One less tree for you to water," he told the puppy, who growed with renewed vigor. Brian chuckled and gave a wistful smile. "Afraid I can't take you home, Killer. There's enuff dogs in the Coltrane homestead...." Brian paused, giving the puppy a scratch behind the ears, and spoke to it with an exaggerated drawl. "An' if Harlond is yer best bet to avoid the pound...then yew have mah sin-cerest sym-pah-thy! "
  17. At that moment, a local Coltrane, recognizable by the permanent wardrobe of black jeans, black boots, and black jacket, walked into the Game Warden's office. "Howdy, Game Warden! I was wonderin' if you've seen MaryAnne around heah someplace, she was supposta- " The words are interrupted by a short bark and a growl. "GAH! What the hell, ah been snagged!" Brian looked down to see a small puppy tugging furiously on one black demin pant leg. The yellow lab snarled with all the conviction it could muster, four stubby legs braced firm as the tiny teeth pulled. "Yeah, yeah. You caught me." Brian looked from the puppy to the Game Warden. "Cripes, Val. Ain't the snake enough? Now you got a dog. A real killer, by the looks of it...." Brian slowly walked across the floor. The puppy refused to let go, and was uncerimoniously dragged across the floor like a fuzzy ball and chain. Looking down at the puppy with a resigned sigh, Brian reached down to gently detach it's teeth from the denim...and the dog promptly clamped it's jaw around one jacket sleeve, taking a toothy grip. Fortunately, the leather jacket prevented any pain, but the inconvience was noted. Brian picked up the puppy by raising the captured arm slowly and scooping his other hand beneath the dog's body, to keep it from falling. The puppy growled, but allowed itself to be cradled in Brian's arms, keeping it's teeth around one sleeve and gnawing upon it. "Val," Brian said with infinate patience, "Next time you get a pet....consider a parakeet or somethin', will ya?"
  18. Ain't no problem. Just take us with you!
  19. It's awright, Jax. I think I mighta over ree-acted. (The hell of reform is the guilty conscience that comes with it. ) I care about Hazzard and don't wanna see the place evaporate. So I dig where Essy n' Kristy are comin' from. I just heard the objections about fighting and more or less freaked out. But then I realized there's two kinds of fighting, and I did some reading between the lines. I don't think anybody's lookin' to drive anybody out of town, here. ( I wouldn't leave anyway. Khee.) There's also the point that whereas Hazzard may not be candyland, it IS a place where good guys are good guys, and families stick together, and all that. An' yet, this small, unassumin' town was a magnet for criminals, some of bein' connected with organized crime, and some of 'em bein' freelance drifters who figured Hazzard for easy pickin's. I don't believe Kristy and Essy meant any harm in thier comments. At first, I was wonderin' if I was the one out of place who didn't belong, and that maybe I was messin' with the Order Of The Universe whereas Hazzard was concerned. Hence my carryin' on. I'm always gonna wonder if my impact to this place, in the long run, was a plus or a minus in the grand total. I've decided to leave such accountin's to the saints, and continue to find my path among the rocky footing between reform and recidivism. And which way I step, one day to the next, may always change. For as surely as I've had my influence on Hazzard, it's had it's influence on me. Tho' I think it's safe to say, Jax, that I won't be sportin' a white robe and wings anytime in the near future. But if I was...I'd probably have 'em hid under that black jacket....
  20. Awright....I'll admit I did take all this personally, but that's 'cause I've been smack dab in the middle of the fights in question. Kristy and Essy, you two weren't the only ones who grew weary of it....I've heard it from other folk, here n' there. Therefore, I dee-parted the RR's as to not offend anyone with my usual behavior. Of course, I carried on with my bad self in the streets of cyberHazzard, and it seems even tho' y'all weren't always there to witness everything....every damn word got back to you. An' it felt like y'all drew conclusions to it an' decided to speak out. As I couldn't dig your motive, or understand what brought this all on...it hit me like a punch in the gut. ( pardon the expression.) I do consider both of ya'll good friends. Honestly. These posts, though, made me unsure of everything. It was with a heavy, black-clad heart that I contemplated a future where I did nothin' but sit around on the porch and drink lemonade. What could I do? I've been at the verge of a decision ever since this discussion started. Do I complete my reform, put on a white shirt, ditch the jacket, and just hang around town and watch the paint crack? No fightin', no cussin', no gun play, no smartassin'.... Or, do the scales tip in the opposite direction? Do I abandon the reform that's done nothin' but box me in? Do I throw away all the good...to be free of the constraints that genteel society would place upon me? Essy, you mentioned about how dead a place feels when there's no emotion, no feeling, no love. Well, if there's no activity, period...that kinda starts things towards rotting away. If there's nothin' goin' on, what is there to get involved in, and care about? Sooner or later, folks just quit showin' up. Love ain't instant pudding, either. It's a recipe that's got to be made from scratch every time. Nobody can just arrive somewhere and get love....it's earned, in degrees, by what ya do or say, and how you make other folk feel. I know this from firsthand experience. I've been both hated and loved in Hazzard. I definitely prefer the latter...but I'm a bad guy, so I can't admit that. I suppose we all have our own idea of Hazzard. Mine's a little twisted, I'll admit, and frankly, I should move on and go hang out as a bad guy in Knight Rider circles...or lend myself to Starsky and Hutch fics and be constantly reincarnated as the villain du jour. In fact, I should go right now. Pack up Diablo and head off, nevah to be heard of in Hazzard again. Give Hazzard back to the Dukes of the world. Let the good guys sit around and stare at each other. If y'all want a bad guy, I suppose you can invent one, and have 'em around just long enough to get blamed for some heinous act and then put in jail for it. Then, it's milk and cookies for everyone, and the bad guy is gone, tra-laa-laa. Well, y'all would go soft if that happened. I think it's mah social ree-sponsibility to stick around and cause as much ruckus as possible. And I'm notoriously difficult to jail, or destroy, or chase off with a broom. In fact, I should jail all the good guys and keep all the milk and cookies to mahself. KHEEHAHA! Brian
  21. For the record, I'm not not offended or angry. Just incredibly sad. Essy, you said..."Hazzard had it's fights but a lot of times, it was just because they were on the run or they needed to catch the bad guy or the bad guy needed to get away." The bad guy needed to get away....You probably don't know the insight held in those words. You're right, but you're right on a level that's deeper than you know. Kristy, you said, "I have visions of what Hazzard must be like and all that has been going on on-line is the complete opposite of it - things the Dukes wouldn't do." Hence, I'm a Coltrane. Rosco did his share of unpopluar behavior, too...but I suppose I take it beyond the reasonable and customary expectation. The Hazzard Preservation Society has spoken. I regret that despite my abstinence from RR's, and despite restricting my anticts to chats that I'm invited to....somehow, Hazzard has still gone to hell in a dee-luxe wicker basket. As I've taken pains to avoid offense in the public eye, I was kinda surprised to see the venting that was posted here. Obviously, you want results of some kind, or you wouldn't have mentioned any complaint publically. I know a Cease and Desist order when I hear one. Other enforcement will not be necessary. I leave you in peace, Kristy and Essy. I won't trouble you in group gatherings; if you're there, I'll leave. I'd also like to think if I ever did offend either of ya, you'd simply say it directly, one on one. For a bad guy, I can be pretty damn reasonable, if given half a chance. I won't communicate with either of you without permission. Hell, I hardly see either of you now...so again...I'm kinda surprised by the fuss, and I'm also saddened by it. Ruining Hazzard was nevah my goal. Making anyone feel unwelcome wasn't my plan either. Regrets, Brian
  22. After long thought....it's hard to know what to say. If any of you don't know what Hazzard means to me, or what this corner of cyberHazzard means to me, or what y'all mean to me...there are no words I can add, at this point, to make a difference. No, I'm not content playing checkers and doing crossword puzzles. By the nature of my character, I'm edgy and restless...and I fight. A lot. I'm a bad guy. It sort of goes with the territory. I think I've also shown that I've got a sense of humor, and that I know how to love people. If some of you are feelin' a little less loved because I've been in some showdown or another every time you join a chat....I apologize. Granted, Hazzard gives me something special in the way of an outlet. But I don't own the place and I've got no right to make anyone else uncomfortable. I also notice that the same people seem to bring up the same complaints. Well, there's a reason I haven't started an RR thread in a while. ( Other than the fact I was temporarily incarerated. ) Invariably, things got too violent for somebody. Awright...so I didn't start any more RR's. But I did have the gall to get into scraps and dramas in character-chats with various antagonists who pulled my number. Listen ya'll, if you're up late at night on the internet, and the worst thing your seeing is me and the opponent du jour throw insults ( or each other ) around the Boar's Nest.... you've lead sheltered lives. And God Bless you if you have. In some ways, you have my envy. I've never known what it was like NOT to have demons to purge. I know the comments were not directed at me specifically. I take responsibility nonetheless. Hazzard is sanctuary to many of us. I respect what it means to those of you who are seeking peace and calm in your chat experience. And anyone feelin' ignored needs to pipe up and start some RR's, or lead a conversation once in awhile in chat. Sorry, but I can't talk about the weather, or make a special effort to seek out the wallflowers, because I've usually got some nut aiming a cannon at my head in another window. Respectfully, Brian
  23. It sounds like we're pretty much in agreement that we want to see big hunks of American muscle car in this flick, and the more, the merrier! You know, I'd love to see the General Lee brute a Honda right off the road. Revenge for that "Fast and Furious" movie ( the original ) where the poor Dodge Charger gets smashed to smithereens. Eat this, ya little rice-cake on wheels! *wham!* Okay, that wasn't politically correct, and somewhere a Honda owner is cursing my humor. And yeah, every time I'm filling up the gas tank in my old Impala at $1.80 a gallon, you have your justice. But for big-screen chaos, I think a pack of muscle cars beats a herd of imports. Can you imagine, if in "Smokey and the Bandit", the back of the semi opens, and Bert Reynolds is about to reveal his bootleg wheels....and out rolls a Datsun? ( That's what they called Nissan's back then, for you young folk.) Would have never been the same.
  24. Couldn't tell ya....but if it's any comfort, they couldn't have chopped the show up any worse than TNN did here in the States. In the case of TNN, it wasn't action scenes that were cut, in as much as Boss/Rosco dialogue scenes were - those, and background type moments that supplemented plot logic. Frankly, if the show was cut down to twenty minutes worth of footage, I'd still have it on, just to hear the antics in the background. If the Dukes of Hazzard has been the soundtrack to anyone else's life here, raise yer hand!
  25. So long as we're Christmas shoppin' for what we'd like in the new Dukes flick, lemme throw this one out there. Besides the '69 Charger starring as the General Lee, what other types of late-model cars or muscle cars would you want on the big screen? I remember that a Mustang was in the first reunion movie, and I enjoyed the fact that it was companionable to the General as far as age goes. (Anybody remember it, the "Double Zero?" I dont' recall the model year of the Mustang - it's a Ford, so you'll have to excuse me. But it sets a good example. It also got it's own die-cast release by ERTL. So WB could clean up on merchandising above and beyond the General Lee toys, I'm thinkin'. That aside, for my money, the older, bigger, and louder cars of the late 50's through late 70's will always be THE movie cars in my book. Look at classics like "American Graffiti" and "Grease" and "Bullit". Who doesn't dig these movies just for the cars? All that in mind, my picks for cars in the new Dukes movie would be....*drum roll* late 60's Chevy's, like Camaros and Impalas (anybody surprised? Heh.) and some big honkin' 70's machines like the Mach 1 Mustangs. Let the General Lee run with, ( or against! ) some cars that shared an era and let's use up every inch of that big screen. I can only wish. I hope that the "Fast and Furious" type cars like mirco-Honda's and tricked-out Nissan's do NOT play a role in the Dukes movie. Opinions?
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