What up y’all? This week we callin it with
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy. Down in the SouthWest side of Texas, country
boy Llewelyn Moss rollin strapped through the dessert huntin antelope when- “Oh damn.
Da hell happened ova’ here?” Bodies EVERYWHERE. And from the look of the gats deez boys was
packin, this musta been some kinda drug deal gone HELLA wrong. One dude still breathin
and all like “..say, can you hook a brutha up with some water?” But Moss just like ” Psh.
b*tch I don’t know you!” After scopin out da area some mo, he finds the last brutha
standing and a leather case full of BIG FACES. I’m talkin 2.4 MILLION DOLLAS. Oooh baby! Moss head back home to count his fat stacks, but
start feelin like a real dick leavin that Mexican dude hangin. So he head back to the
spot with a jug of water and gets outta his car, which is about the STUPIDEST damn thing
he coulda done. It aint long before he realize he ain’t out in da boonies by himself, there’s
some creep lurkin round his whip. “Oh. F**k.” Moss try to bail but dem pushers chase his
ass through the desert. Eventually, he manage to shake them off, and calls up his lady Carla
Jean and tell her she gotta bust ass over to her mama’s house til things cool off a bit. When wind of this mess comes to old law man
Ed Tom Bell, he decide he gonna make sho dat Moss and Carla Jean make it out alive. Specially
since he did some bunk sh*t back in WW2, and wanna do some good to make up fo it. But
sh*t gets real whack when a hitman named Anton Chigur hit da streets to hunt down dat cash.
This is one cat you DON’T f**k with. Chigur packin a silenced shotgun and an air-powered
stun gun that not only can blow a hole in a brutha’s head, but can rip the locks off
doors like it ain’t nuthin. Also hot on the trail of dem Benjamins is
Carson Wells, anotha hit man, who got beef with Chigur. Chigur catch up with
Moss across the border, and they start bustin caps in eachotha til both of em walk away
with gnarly wounds. Chigur patch himself up in a hotel like a real hardass while Moss
rest up in a hospital. Wells drop in on Moss and be like “say dawg, you have no idea who
you dealin with. Chigurh ain’t gonna stop lookin for you even if he gets the money back.
He still gon find you and put yo ass six feet deep. But I’ll take care of him for you
if you gimme dat cheddar.” Wells leaves, and Moss marinate on it fo
a while, but it’s too late. Chigur corners Wells and mercs his ass right as Moss callin
Wells to seal the deal. Chigur pick up da phone and tell Moss dat he better cough up
da cash or he gonna kill Carla Jean. Damn, son. Sh*t just got real. Since Carla Jean start to bug out, she call
up Sherriff Ed to tell him where Moss is gonna lay low. Guess who traced the call? Das right.
Crazy-ass Chigur. So when Ed Tom’s crusty ass swang over to
the motel, he finds Moss lyin in chalk. Apparently, he got smoked by a gang of drug pushers also
searchin fo the money. Good lookin out ED! Later, Chigur roll up on dat motel room
and find the money stashed in the vent and hand it over to the big dawg. Since Chigur’s a man of his word, he stop
by to put a bullet in Carla Jean’s dome. She beg him to just chill, so he flips a coin
to decide her life. (gunshot) She dead. On his way outta da crib BAM, boy gets TOOKEN
out by a car. He still alive, tho. After bribing two kids to keep they mouths shut, Chigur
limps off in to the sunset. After tryin to bring the law down on Chigur’s
ass fo a while, Old ass Ed just says “f**k it,” retires, and starts talkin bout two trippy
dreams he had after his dad died: In one, he gotta borrow some ends from his dad, but
just loses em. In da otha, brutha on a horse watching his daddy ahead of him holding a
blazin horn, knowin he would light a fire dat would keep
on blazin in the darkness. From da first pages of da book, Sherriff Ed
Tom Bell lay it on thick. The world has left his ass in the dust. See back in his daddy’s
day, the hardest hoods on the block would jus boost cattle, and chasin em down wasn’t
no thang. But these days, da face of evil got a way meaner mug on it- and Ed Tom and
his boys ain’t never seen nothin like it. Deez killas ain’t got no code. They’ll merc
anybody without even trippin. Like he say on page 196, “the world is goin to hell in
a handbasket.” This truly is no country for old men. And speakin of the title, it actually come
from an old school poem by my main man WB Yeats called “Sailing to Byzantium.” In da
poem, the narrator lay down some sick rhymes bout how how bad it sucks to get old. So he
pack up his nuts and head to Byzantium where word is some sages gonna appear in fire and
take him outside of time, kinda like da dream Ed Tom’s dream at the end of the book. He
could see his pops “carryin fire in a horn the way people used to do… in the dream
I knew that he was going on ahead and that he was fixin to make a fire somwehere out
there in all that dark…. Whenever I got world” thing is da same kinda bullshit Ed
Tom Bell and a buncha otha bruthas goin through in the novel. They da old men constantly sweatin
da coming of the “new man,” and da kinda person you gotta become to stop such stone cold killers.
Like Ed Tom say- “Somewhere out there is a true and living
prophet of destruction and I dont want to confront him. I know he’s real. I have seen
his work. I walked in front of those eyes once. I wont do it again. I wont push my chips
forward and stand up and go out to meet him. It aint just bein older. I wish that it was.
I cant say that it’s even what you are willin to do. I think it is more like what you are
willin to become. And I think a man would have to put his soul at hazard.” (4) Ain’t nobody representin this “new man” better
than Anton Chigur- the baddest muthaf**ka EVER. Yeah, he cold blooded as hell, but there’s
more to it than that. Accordin to Wells, “You could even say he has principles. Principles
that transcend money or drugs or anything like that.” (153) Chigur don’t look at life like most people
and always be philosophizin like a muthaf**ka, “I got here the same way the coin did, for
things at a common destination there is a common path. Not always easy to see. But there, every
moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing. Somewhere you made a choice.
All followed to this. The accounting is scrupulous. The shape is drawn. No line can be erased.”
(258-59) To Chigur, ain’t nobody can really change
the world or da shit that happens. In his eyes, asking questions like “Why couldn’t
things be different?” just don’t make no sense. Things are they way they are and we just passively
participating in this cosmic clusterf**k- like little puzzle pieces that all randomly
come together to create the here and then. Aight so Ed Tom is the good guy, tryna keep
it old school morality, and Chigur is the bad guy cuz da new man don’t give a shit
bout nuthin, right? Well not exactly. There are some pretty interesting similarities between
Ed Tom And Chigur. They both always bustin other people’s balls bout not speakin clearly
enough and both like to go on and on about truth and principle. Now here’s where shit gets cray: Ed Tom Bell
straight up say “I’m not the man of an older time they say I am.” Huh? Turns out ol Ed
turned his back on his boys back in WW2 and left them out to die, even though that goes
against his code. Chigur on the other hand, always talkin bout how he’s a man of his word,
like when he’s havin one last talk with Carla Jean, “You’ve got no cause to hurt me, she said.
/ I know. But I gave my word…my word is not dead. Nothing can change that. (256) So NOW who’s the man with no code? Also, when a book slangin religious imagery,
they usually doin it to make da good guy look dat much mo righteous. But in No Country,
it’s CHIGUR who all holy like. For real. For real, when he ghost dat dude on the highway,
da book say “he places his hand on the man’s head like a faith healer.” Hm. Later, dude
actually compares himself to actin like God. “Even a nonbeliever might find it useful to
model himself after God. Very useful, in fact.” (256) And just think abut his piece, one of Chigurh’s
favorite ways to ice somebody is with a stungun used to knock cattle da f**k out. Maybe it’s
cuz to someone like Chigurh, who da novel paints as mo divine than human, errybody else just
mooin sacks of flesh. God Damn.