Outlaw, cold blooded killer, victim of circumstance.

The man the myth the legend, Billy the Kid, the very personification of the Wild West.

Did he die at 21 years old and bushed by Sheriff Pat Garrett?

Or did Garrett let the friend he called Lil Casino vanish into the dark New Mexico night?

I don't know about you, but I've always been fascinated by the American Wild West.

A time when Golden Nuggets were found on the ground and family fortunes were made overnight.

These coaches, banks, trains were robbed by armed desparados, quite literally riding

off into the sunset on horseback.

Mustachioed men drinking warm whiskey neat in a dusty bar.

Law men sit next to gamblers, gamblers sit next to cattle rustlers, cattle rustlers sit

next to the very cattle barons, they stole their cattle from.

It was a time when insults were settled with pistols and brothels and poker tables,

whereas common is tumbleweeds and rattlesnakes.

So let's giddy up, you cow poaks, slap on some spurs, slip on your best 10 gallon

hat, pour yourself a tall glass of something that smells like gasoline and tastes much worse.

And let's mosey on into this high noon, circling the wagon, showdown edition of Time Suck.

Welcome to the Wild Wild West Time Suck, everybody.

And no, we will not be examining Will Smith's 1999 hit single.

If you don't know what that song is, take my advice and don't look it up.

You don't want that nonsense stuck in your head, I promise you.

Very excited for today's show, God of Love Westerns.

Tombstone is my favorite movie of all time.

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