A Rifleman massacre for the kiddies

Bloody day after bloody day. 

Bleeding decade after bleeding decade.  

One murderous generation
following the next murderous generation

From our bloodletting birth
as a nation now circling the globe  

to our last expiring moment. 

We the People shoot to kill. 

This is what we do. 

This is who we are. 

Same as it ever was. 

Same as it always will be.

So tell me,
how did we ever get this way?

When I Rode the Western Plains

From the Doctor's first slap on the ass, most of us learn from the School of Hard Knocks. 
A chosen few are born on the Street of Dreams. 
Some dive onto the Bourbon Street beat while others linger on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. 
Me? Well shucks. Guess'n I l'arned what I know'ed out on the prairies, up in the mountains and down in the gullies of mah television screen whare ah l'arned it all from these hombres who show'd this tenderfoot the ropes, when I rode the Western Plains. 

The Showdown! The Rifleman takes on Matt Dillon

When my dear friend AB revealed to the world that Chuck Conners and James Arness were the first objects of her grade school affections and that all these years later, she still couldn't choose one over the other, it was time to size 'em up for her. This one's for you, AB