Through the mind boggling sophistication of the life sucking advertising machine, we are constantly bombarded by simultaneous messages that turn us all into physical, mental and spiritual fat fucks. The messages come at us in an unorganized wave that leaves us lurching like zombies, unable even to choose the next biggie sized snack of the moment. There are infinite products, but only a finite number of people in which to stuff all these messages of what to buy, love, kill, worship, shit, whatever. What we have left are morbidly obese couch potatoes waiting for omnipotent Oprah to clue us in on how to fix our ailing selves. Or even to tell us what's wrong in the first place. In an effort to start sorting out the madness, we at REDTONGUE redefine what it means to be a man in American society by visiting a place where manliness has been archived. A place that will act as a roadmap to the future by taking us back to the the late 1940's, when American men were very clear of their place in the world order. This place? Why, The Rex Allen Singing Cowboy Museum in Wilcox, Arizona, of course.
