Bandana's Bar-B-Q

1220 Big Bill Rd.
Arnold, Mo.
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We are eagerly awaiting the opening of four or five places around Jefferson County. One, is Savannah's Smokehouse in Desoto. I was in the Fountain City Saturday morning taking pictures of some of the interesting sights around town. While on Main Street I peeked inside the window to see how it was progressing. They've still got some work to do, but soon, maybe soon.
In the meantime, we still have to come up with places to eat. This was Adam's week and as is his custom, he didn't announce until about an hour before dinner time. Adam is not very experimental in this family venture. he picks places that he likes. So Bandana's was no surprise.
There used to be a Bandana's in Festus, but it ironically burned down a couple of years ago, there has been no apparent effort to replace it. So, we were off to Arnold.

The Place:
I've said it before, I don't like going to Arnold. It is about the northernmost city in Jefferson County, which makes it more of just another suburb of St. Louis than anything else. The roads are always busy, it is littered with acute-angled, confounding multi-lane, multi-choice intersections. The business area has every conceivable big box store, franchise restaurant, bank, strip mall you can imagine. There are a couple of restaurants in Arnold that we've tried to go to, but the lines around the buildings were just too intimidating. Bandana's though is usually not nearly as busy. The lot was less than half full. We got out, I closed the car door, then checked it again, then
once more before We went in. Last week my car door was left open the entire time we were dining.
As we approached the entrance, something on their door caught my eye. Mixed messages on the door. I love irony.
We went in and were led back to a booth. Bandana's is wider than it is deep. Most of the booths are in three straight long rows. I imagine staff movement, serving and clearing are more efficient this way, not bending around haphazardly arraigned tables and diners.
Our server, name-tagged 'Kayla', a young, happy and energetic lady, opened up her order pad. "Can I start you off with some tea or Pepsi Products?" She asked of me.
"Why yes, yes you can." I answered and returned to scanning the menu. That never gets old.
I looked up again and saw her smiling. Points! "I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific than that."

Angel jumped in for the rescue. "Sweet tea, and can I get that with no ice?"
Of course she can. I ordered unsweet tea with no sugar, which never gets old either, Adam went for a Pepsi.
She scurried off and we began the selection process. After I decided I looked around and checked out the familiar layout. Mostly brick and tile, lights over the tables were re-purposed tin washtubs. Somewhere in the background there was music, country maybe, but fortunately it was so low in volume that I couldn't even make out the tunes.
Kayla returned in a few minutes with our drinks, we were ready to order.

The Food:
I ordered a Southern Pulled Pork Sandwich and a side of potato salad. I heard someone else order that side as we were being led back to our seats and the notion stuck. I hadn't had potato salad in a long time. Angel went for her usual, a Choose Two combo of chicken and ribs with fried okra (Blech!) and French fries. Adam went simple, Buffalo Chicken Sandwich and fries.
Bandana's has lots of smoky meats to choose from, beef, turkey, chicken, sausages, pork, etc. There's also a very god selection of sides to choose from.
I'd not had the pulled pork before, usually I get a Choose Two myself. I was hoping the pulled pork would be just a little wetter and in strips rather than half inch chunks. Those tend to be a little chewy and dry unless you slather them in sauce. Bandana's has an excellent selection of sauces to choose from at every table, so it's not that big of a deal, I'm just lazy.
I discovered they had free Wifi available, so Like Angel and Adam, spent the next few minutes browsing the web or whatever it is they do on their 'smart' cellular telephones. I had my tablet, both phones I carry are flip-style, for making phone calls, like phones are supposed to do.
When I did look up again I started watching the staff, especially the hot ones. (just kidding!) I noticed the front staff was entirely female and the only people I could see in the kitchen were male. I'm not accusing anyone of anything here, just an observation. Many would argue that women don't belong in the kitchen, I boldly and vehemently disagree. I will speak out loudly to put women back into the kitchen, because I'm all for women's rights.
You're welcome, ladies.
As if on cue, Kayla brought me my sandwich.

The sandwiches were presented in baskets, diner style. Angel's combo came on a plate. My potato salad was in a little bowl in the basket, Adam's fries were just dumped in alongside his sandwich. The meat on mine was piled high. So was the potato salad. There was going to be more than enough food. I pulled a chunk, there were chunks, not threads, of meat and tasted it. Smoky, sure, but as I feared, a little dry. Pass the sauce please!
I injected about a quarter cup of Sweet and Smoky into the pile of meat, made more complicated by the slaw on the top. The bun seemed kind of flimsy, I doubted it would hold up for long. Once sauced up the meat was very good. A bit chunky for a 'pulled' pork sandwich, but not too bad. The potato salad was a sweet version, with chunks of boiled egg and slivers of something, perhaps potato skins. As far as potato salad goes, pretty darn good.
Angel's plate came with two enormous slices of Texas toast. I'd forgotten that luscious treat. They apparently bathe the
toast in butter, there's not a dry spot on it anywhere. Thick, buttery, toasted, Mmmmm. She handed me half a slice. I love her. Looking at her plate though was troubling. Two starchy fried sides and a pound of toast.

The actual meats took up less than half the plate. I tasted one of her fries, not bad. Angel pours ketchup over the fries, I'm a dipper myself. It's a miracle we're still together given that stark difference.
It was only a small portion of ribs, and there's not much meat on ribs anyhow. Angel said they were very good, just not a lot there. Bandana's are about her favorite ribs anywhere. The chicken was a little dry, she said. Tasty, but dry.
As for the okra (Blech!) she said they were nothing special, probably frozen.
Adam's sandwich and fries were gone in a hurry. He was quite pleased. He didn't say much about it, but the speed and the 100% completion spoke volumes.
Summary:
Currently our favorite smoky meat place. We sure miss the one in Festus, Arnold is a pain to get to.
The price was quite reasonable, forty two bucks. Kayla took very good care of us, happy, efficient and patient the whole time.
The tea was better than most places, but still almost an afterthought.
I'll have to admit that Adam and Angel are bigger fans of smoky meats than I am. I don't dislike them at all, but it's not a high ranking, go-to thing in my head. As far as they go though, I have to admit that this is about as good as it gets.
The whole operation is well run, efficient, on time, they get the orders right and the food is definitely fresh cooked.
If only they'd rebuild in Festus. . .

Bandana's (Arnold)

1220 Big Bill Rd.Arnold, Mo. (Map)
On the Wide World of Web.

My pen-pal, Suzi will probably huff at this choice. She knows I don't get up to Arnold much and there are lots of restaurants there that she would probably rather me try. But this wasn't my choice, it was Angel's. The dear wife wanted Bandana's, regardless of where it was. The one in Festus burned down a year or so ago.
The reason I don't go to Arnold much is because it is more like a busy suburb than the smaller towns further south in Jefferson County. It is always bustling and busy, lots of stoplights, lots of traffic, and places we've headed to there in the past have typically had lines at the door. We don't do 'wait' well.
We like the food at Bandana's though, a lot. They smoke meat.
The Place:
Just off one of the many very busy streets, next to one of the many shopping centers, within sight of an Applebees. The parking lot wasn't completely full, but only because it was quite a large lot.
When we went in there were some people waiting, but fortunately for us they were waiting for a large table. Our needs weren't quite so demanding. The young, petite, yet capable hostess sent us to a booth, one of very few empty ones, that was still moist from being wiped down.
Bandana's is fairly large, I didn't get get a square footage estimate, but certainly bigger than a Waffle House. More like a Cracker Barrel.
Speaking of Cracker Barrel, that's what Bandana's smells like. Cracker Barrels usually have a big fireplace and in certain weather keep a fire roaring. Bandana's keeps their smokers burning 24 hours a day. It's a very nice, cozy, comfy, mouth watering aroma.
Bandana's has locations in Missouri, Illinois and Iowa.They also have one in Indiana, in Evansville. Mostly though this is a Missouri chain, the first one, built in 1986, was in Arnold.
We sat at our booth, the din of the filled place drowned out any overhead music, if there was any.
Missy brought our menus and asked about drinks. Tea for me, sweet tea, no ice, for Angel, Adam opted for Pepsi.
The Food:
The menus are simple. They don't have  a ton of different food, If you want seafood, pasta, burgers, you're in the wrong place. Pork, beef, chicken, turkey, ribs and smoked sausage is what they serve, platters or sandwiches. They also have a fair, but uncomplicated list of sides and starters, including some sleepers, things you might not have guessed. Boiled peanuts, fried corn on the cob, breaded and fried green beans and what Angel says is pretty good, Bar-B-Q chicken nachos.
So the decision is which meat would you like, and yes, you can mix and match. It's all pretty good. Some will find smoked meat tasty, but a little dry, don't worry though, each table has the full compliment of Bandana's own sauces, six of them.
For those of you pretending to be watching your weight, I noticed that under each menu item listed was the calorie count for that dish. They are not ashamed of their food, at all, this place is for carnivores.
I finally decided, as did Angel and Adam. Missy brought our drinks and started writing.
Me: Pulled pork sandwich with baked beans.
Angel: Chicken platter plus one rib ($2.00 option) fried corn on the cob and, wanting to try something new, fried green beans.
Adam: 'Pick 2', chicken and beef with fries and corn.
Missy scribbled it all down without comment, then turned away and left us alone. Out came the electronic devices. Adam played a game, Angel looked up something or another, I played with my tablet's two cameras.
The wait grew, people came and went. The evening went south. A family was seated in the both behind us, their small boy spotted them and ran towards them squealing loudly all the way. Like in that old classic movie, '39 Steps' where a cleaning lady discovers a body, opens her mouth to scream, then an immediate cutaway to a high speed steam locomotive tearing down the track with a heavy hand on the shrill, angry whistle. He roared past us, the hair on my neck spiked up like the fur on the arched back of a hissing cat.
He jumped into the bench seat behind us and started rocking, bucking us from behind with every bounce. Angel didn't say anything at the time, but she had to know that this would be a certain mood changer for me. It was, I soured. He finally settled, but the problem with that group did not go away. The patriarch of the family had a deep, booming voice, like a seasoned Baptist minister and from it came knowledge of all things. He never asked a question, he already knew everything about everything and was sure to confirm this on every subject. The man talked loudly and confidently for the full course of their stay.
This was not Bandana's fault, it won't affect my review other than to point out that this is a problem in larger populated, really busy places. There's bound to be a bloviating ass and/or a shrill, undisciplined child in the mix at any given time.
The food took a while which I  thought odd. The main course, the meats, are prepared constantly and well ahead of time in big batches and there weren't that many sides offered. Why it took so long, I'm not sure.
But the food did arrive. It was gorgeous. My sandwich was served in a plastic basket on paper, the beans were separated in a shallow ramekin. The sandwich was topped with fresh coleslaw. I grabbed a bottle of Chicago sauce, my favorite, flipped the sandwich over and slathered on a generous portion.
The beans were sweet, sweeter than you might be accustomed to, but very good. This was no one's canned baked beans.
Angel's plate looked massive. A spice rubbed thigh, breast and leg. A handsome rib also looked pretty good as well. The fried green beans were breaded and deep fried. The corn, still on the cob, had scorch marks. The garlic bread looked beautiful. Golden, bright, like the pigtails of a country girl on a sunny day. Adam's corn was more conventional, the fries looked like fries. On his plate you could see the 'stick to the basics' style of Bandana's. Just lovely, simple smoked meat. No fancy garnishes or toppings. If you want sauce, it's on the table.
Also on the table, every table, is a roll of paper towels. They are not just there for the ribs.
Pulled meat usually means shredded. Not necessarily so here. There were sizable chunks on my bun that when bitten, came out fully intact. A couple of these were big enough that the next couple of bites came out with only slaw and bun. Of course, this also meant splatter and spillage. The flimsy napkin that was wrapped around the bargain basement silverware didn't last halfway through the meal.
I strongly advise not wearing your best Sunday-go-to-meetings to Bandana's. The chances of splatter and drip is quite high. So mechanically my sandwich was a bit messy, but that's not a criticism. The taste, oh the wonderful taste, more than made up for that.
My meal was smaller than my family's so I finished first. I picked at a couple of Angel's green beans. They were pretty good, though very heavy for a bean.
Angel tore through her corn like an industrial shredding machine. She left the chicken skin on the plate but the meat had disappeared, the bones appeared acid soaked so devoid of meat they had been rendered.
Missy came by and checked on us, a single takeout box please. Angel was saving the bread. We've always loved the bread, even though Angel said "I think it's probably my changing tastes, but the bread seemed a little oily." This did not stop her from putting it into the box for later though.
Summary:
"Good, as usual." Adam said. That about says it. The food is good. it is of much better quality than many places, simply, but expertly prepared. Bandana's has been around for nearly thirty years, the recipes and techniques have not changed. They don't need to. This is not reprocessed, cookie cutter, industrial food. It's the real thing.
Busy as it was, except for the longer than expected wait time, the service was professional and solid. Missy didn't chat us up unnecessarily, but she was attentive, patient and thorough.
The price was good, but not dirt cheap, $49.01
The tea? Sorry, but not very good. It was fresh, not cloudy and bitter, but it was pretty weak. I'll give it a minus two and a half. It worked okay to wash the meat down, but tasted only mildly stronger than water.
Will we be back? Not for a while. Location, location, location. Should they build anew in Festus/Crystal City though, you bet. But I simply hate navigating the traffic and crowds in Arnold.

Bandana’s Bar-B-Q

103 Truman Blvd
Crystal City, MO

http://www.bandanasbbq.com/

 

To celebrate Adam’s upcoming birthday* we let him choose a place. I know, it was probably his turn anyhow, but it’s the thought that counts, right? We did tell him there was no pressure to find a new place, he didn’t need to consider the review at all, even if it was a place we’d been to recently. Free choice without pressure or repercussions, that’s the greatest gift of all.

I was a little surprised when he chose Bandana’s but only a little. I knew he liked it, but not that it was at the top of his list.

I had been shopping earlier in the day, mostly finished but a little frustrated. None of the stores I went to had those big cans of popcorn, the ones with three kinds, cheddar, plain and caramel. Granted, I’d only gone to two stores, but for me that’s an ambitious shopping trip.

The evening was simply gorgeous. The setting sun enflamed the few wispy clouds, the temperature was nearly perfect, high fifty’s or low sixty’s. The drive was uneventful and rather quiet. On arrival I was expecting the outdoor loudspeaker to be blasting that awful country music. I was pleased to note they’d turned it down considerably from the hideous shouting level it had been set to on our previous trips. Inside it was pleasantly, barely audible at all.

The Place:

It was only half full, or maybe less. Not bustling, a very relaxed pace. The place was only modestly decorated, felt red stockings hung from above the opening to the kitchen, each with a name written on it, maybe one per crew member. A small tree sat in a corner and that was pretty much it.

A few families were spread around the long aisles, the black-clad crew scurried about clearing tables, sweeping the floor, carrying orders.

We were shown a booth near the back and situated ourselves. The menus were dropped off, drinks ordered (tea, sweet tea and Pepsi) and the server drifted off and left us to consider options.

The birthday boy, and my tea.

Our drinks arrived quickly, we weren’t quite ready to order yet. It took another five minutes or so before we finally decided. After much internal debate, I chose the turkey sandwich and fries. Angel, the chicken and pork plate with ‘fried corn’ and fried okra. Adam went for the beef and chicken plate with fries and coleslaw.

While we waited, in what has become a sort of ritual, Angel pulled out her new-fangled smartphone, checked her Facebook and email, then browsed through some online comics. Adam didn’t. Instead he occupied himself tearing the straw wrappers into tiny little shreds, then rolling the shreds up into tiny little balls.

Angel then showed Adam one of the comic strips, he seemed only slightly amused. “Comics are for old people.” He said, which caused his mother to get all red-faced and defensive. “I didn’t mean old like you, I mean old-old.” He defended himself, though it didn’t really help.

I think he was just trying to get a rise from her. He does that a lot, something he inherited from his mother. She’s always trying to rile me up, pointing out petty infractions and forgetfulness, just trying to ring my buzzer; I don’t take the bait though.

The Food:

Turkey Sandwich, pre-sauce

The food arrived quickly, just as advertised. There are no surprises at Bandana’s, just tasty smoked meats.

The meat is served dry allowing one to sauce it up to individually desired levels. They provide four different sauces at each table, I think there used to be more.  I’d tasted them all before and went with my favorite, Chicago Sweet, and plenty of it. This doesn’t mask the smokiness of the meat, it’s chopped into thick chunks, it merely perfects it. My bun was toasted and buttered, the fries were  just right.

Angel’s fried corn turned out to be corn on the cob, cooked, then grill-fried until most of the individual kernels were a light brown. It was diapered on the plate in what looked like an oblong coffee filter. We debated this, and decided that it might not actually have been a coffee filter since we couldn’t figure out how or why a coffee maker would require an oblong filter. On subsequent research, and playing off a brilliant hunch, I looked up 'restaurant supplies' and ‘hot dog wrappers’ and sure enough, voila! You can see them here.

Fried corn on the cob.

The corn itself was very good. I know this because Angel said it was almost as good as Jeff’s. Jeff is my younger, but bigger brother. He smokes meats himself but unfortunately he lives a couple of hundred miles away in the sprawling metropolis of Cerulean Ky. When he prepares a meal he puts his heart and soul into it. Lots of planning, hand chosen wood, days of preparation. His corn is indeed awesome. For Bandana’s to come even close by comparison is quite a commendation.

Her okra looked just like it tastes, like breaded and deep-fried cow snot.

Adam tried his coleslaw then never touched it again. I asked him about that. “It’s not their fault, I’m just really, really picky about coleslaw.” He responded without further explanation. He is indeed rather picky about certain foods, another unfortunate trait he gets from his mother.

Adam asked me about the tea. “Flat, tasteless, but I knew it would be.”

“Then why did you order it?” he asked as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“I had to see if they bothered to improve it, they haven’t.”

He doesn’t seem to understand the harsh sacrifices that are required to become a professional, highly rated and respected restaurant critic.

Summary:

The food was, as I’ve said, very good. Adam didn’t like the coleslaw, but even he properly blamed that on flawed genetics rather than a failed effort by Bandana’s. The tab was a bit high, forty six dollars before the tip, but good food is good food, and really good comestibles** are worth a few extra farthings.

After we finished we hopped over to Big Lot’s to see if they had the tins of popcorn. Nope. The next day, on a tip form Angel, I found some at K-Mart. Mission accomplished.

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* Birthday.  Adam’s is the day after mine but we agreed to split the celebrations. He would choose a place to eat, I’d choose a movie to go to. None of these celebrations would actually occur on our actual birthdays. We’ll be going to see “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” on Friday.

**Comestibles. An established author and Facebook friend Nicola Griffith used this word in a post last week. I had to look it up since I’ll admit that there are a still a few (a couple of dozen at most) pretentious English words missing from my otherwise vast arsenal. I thanked her for the generous gift and assured her that I would try to use it in the near future. This almost-superfluous usage was an intentional means of increasing my word power (it pays). As for ‘farthings’, I only need to mention that this same friend is British by birth.

Bandana’s Bar-B-Q III, or IV

Festus MO

Adam’s choice, lunchtime Saturday. He had class in the morning then work a little later, so we met him in between. As before the place smelled delightful, meat smokers were un-polluting the city air. The lousy, cheap outdoor speakers were blasting country music, which would normally drive me away immediately, but Angel and Adam had their hearts set, so I sucked it up like a proper family man and just silently cursed to myself.

As we approached the door, the very moment I was in direct line with the awful racket-maker, an obnoxious hook-line in the song etched itself into my brain and would not go away. The words were burnt into my frontal lobe as if scorched in with a fat soldering iron from a 60’s era wood burning set.

“Like a tumbleweed in a tilt-a-whirl”*

I kid you not.

I didn’t catch any of the rest of the words, so I wasn’t quite sure what the other half of the analogy was, I was too busy trying to scrape the awful noise out of my head. But it stayed. The so-called song was still playing as we were shown to our booth.

We ordered our drinks, tea, tea and Coke.

The problem I had with this lyric was that while I certainly appreciate a good, well constructed and image-producing analogy, I just could not figure out how ‘like a tumbleweed in a tilt-a-whirl’ was a definitive analog of anything other than an actual tumbleweed in a tilt-a-whirl.

I knew immediately that a tilt-a-whirl was a carnival ride, though I was having trouble remembering specifically which ride it was, probably not the teacups or the spinning, bouncing horses. I confess to not being a carnival aficionado, so the analogy kind of broke down right from the start.

An analogy should, by definition clarify something in a timely manner. For example:

“When my sister yells at me it sounds like a cat in a garbage disposal.”

You don’t know my sister but the picture I’ve painted using this simple analogy gives you an accurate, universally understood indication of what she really sounds like.

“I was sweating like a greased kumquat on Arbor day.” This one does you no real good. It makes you think too hard. “I think I know what a kumquat is, maybe. I don’t know how much liquid one excretes when greased, and I can’t really remember when Arbor Day is, or what impact that would have on the amount of moisture excreted by the vegetable, or is it a fruit?”

It’s catchy, colloquial and cute, but it doesn’t really add any usable information to the conversation. Analogies need to be based on certain commonality. The listener needs to know/understand/recognize the things that you are describing.

I saw a tumbleweed once, in person. I was living in Texas at the time and sure enough, just like on “Gunsmoke”,** there went a tumbleweed rolling down the hot, dusty path toward the corral (parking lot). It was a scrawny thing, smaller, sparser than those on TV.

As it turns out tumbleweed is not native to the U.S. It, like macaroni, fireworks, lead-based toys and poison baby formula are originally from Asia, having spread to the U.S. in shipments of agricultural seeds from Asian countries, probably the communist ones. Tumbling tumbleweeds have been disappearing in the arid southwest, their function having been replaced by the more durable and ubiquitous, plastic shopping bag.***

A tumbleweed weighs about as much as helium, and therefore just goes wherever the winds blow it. I can’t for the life of me imagine how it would behave in a twisting, torquing carnival ride. So there, Mr. Twangy Country Music man, your stupid analogy is a dismal failure!

Just another reason country music should be completely eliminated from society.

The Place:

I’ve described it before, friendly, black tee-shirted staff, ample room for booths and tables, a little barn-sh looking with large tin wash basins as lampshades and iron pipes and fittings to hold the necessary paper towel roll. One napkin is never enough here.

The one downside is the music. I suppose it’s okay if you like twangy intellectually-insulting, three-note, two-beat music, but those of us with superior tastes find it unpleasantly distracting, like a wasp in a urinal. (See what a GOOD colloquial analogy can do?)

The Food.

I knew what I was going to order before we even got there. Pulled pork sandwich and fries; I added a side of baked beans. Angel went for a lunch special, a quarter of a chicken with green beans and potato salad. Adam once again ordered the spicy ‘Wet Bandana’ sandwich (chicken + turkey) and fries on the side.

None of this was new, we’ve been to Bandana’s before, a few times, and have found nothing disappointing. The meat is always awesome, they have a wide variety of sauces, and the sides like the beans and the potato salad are made in-house and are all church-picnic awesome.

The meals were served in baskets lined with country-looking paper, my sandwich and fries in one basket, a small bowl of beans in another, yeah, they served me beans, in a bowl, in a basket.

Since Angel had a plate rather than a sandwich, she got two slabs of Texas Toast, the best Texas Toast in the region. Adam and I stared her down and made guttural growling noises like pit bulls in front of a raw steak. In fear for her own life and limbs she tore one of the slabs in two and tossed them cautiously at us. Smart move.

I poured about a cup of the Chicago style sauce on my sandwich, I like it the best since it tastes just like Chicago. The pork was chunky, a little on the dry side as smoked meat is prone to be, so generous portions of sauce were called for. This did not diminish the experience at all. We all ate fast and well. Adam started to succumb to the spiciness after a while, he boxed up the last quarter of his sandwich. My plate (basket) was empty and Angel had reduced her slab of chicken to bare bone and gristle. We refused dessert, for reasons that escape me now. Oh yeah, we were full.

Summary:

There was never a doubt that this would be an awesome lunch. We’ve never been disappointed at Bandana’s. They do meat just right and don’t cut corners with the sides. The meal came in at just over thirty two dollars, just a little higher than a fast-food place, but the difference in atmosphere (except for the hideous music) and food quality was more than worth it. The wait staff was attentive and friendly, even the manager came out and greeted us, asking if he could bring us anything else. I thought for a moment about answering “Why yes, good sir, we’d like a pony!” But in the end I spared the poor man a savage slash from my rapier wit.

__________________________________

* “Heart Over Head, Over Heels” by Clay Walker. For those of you that just HAVE to know. Listen at your own peril, you’ve been warned.

** Gunsmoke: This is a deliberate shout-out to my good friend Dave M. in Maryland. He’s never lived west of the Blue Ridge Mountains as far as I recall and can be a little east-coast/tidewater snobbish. He writes occasionally to shamelessly mock the fine town of ‘Festus’ equating it to the lovable but quaintly illiterate character (played by the late Ken Curtis) by that name in the old TV series. That character is, I think, how Dave imagines all of us out here to be.

*** Tumbleweed/shopping bag: I made this up.