My Cultural Diet

I confess to an inordinate fondness for Chuck Norris movies, probably because they frequently played on Omaha’s KPTM during the late ’80s and early ’90s. As such, the scene in Lone Wolf McQuade where Norris’ titular Texas Ranger is buried alive in his Dodge Ramcharger is forever seared into my subconscious, from the moment he pours beer all over himself to the moment he surges from beneath the ground, reborn and ready to get revenge on David Carradine’s slimy arms dealer. It’s all pretty absurd in the way that only an early ’80s Chuck Norris film can be, from the ridiculous body count and blatantly illegal interrogation tactics to the way that women show they love our hero (they clean up his pigsty of a house, even if they’re a wealthy widow), McQuade’s pet wolf, and of course, plentiful roundhouse kicks. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mentioned McQuade’s — dare I say it? — progressive relationship with his ex-wife, which was actually kind of refreshing to watch. It’s no Octagon — what is? — but Lone Wolf McQuade is still pretty enjoyable in its own right.

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