So we're at blog 2 from Ben Jr., my beautiful new MacBook. I'm still getting used to the key shortcuts and the (slightly) different keyboard, but thanks to my curiosity and some training from Hoover I'm slowly getting the hang of it.
So anyway, I'm 28, and I was the second youngest one in my class. This means that I'm at the age where most of my friends start contemplating 30 if they haven't already, they start turning 30 if they haven't already, and they start trying ever so slightly to act like they're thirty. I have two very close friends who have decided to go back to school, one of whom is turning 31 tonight, and I'm so proud of their decisions. That one may be in my cards soon as well, I just have to figure out money first.
But going hand in hand with contemplating your own mortality (and morality) is looking at the path you've chosen to get here. Mine kinda looks more like a ropes course from a Navy SEAL training academy than a path per se, but aside from a few dark areas I can sill trace how it was that I got through it. I can see zip lines that I'd give anything to go back and take again to feel that wind on my face, but I also see the mud bogs and sheer scaling wall that I remember almost making me quit.
Then it hits me! My past, Navy SEALs. Where's my Casey Rybeck? Where the fuck did Steven Segal go? And for that matter, where did all my action heroes go? All the guys from GI Joe to Van Damme, Chuck Norris to Jeff Speakman, where'd you go? They beat the shit out of terrorists, thugs, criminals, drug addicts, COBRA, and even a bear (thanks, Chuck.)! They'd know how to grab life like that guy's throat in Roadhouse and tear the esophagus of success out with one bloody Eagle Claw of maturity.
I need a montage.
We all know that Chuck Norris has his list of toughness and his precious Mountain Dew commercials, but let's face it. He's forever gone as Delta Force, and forever remembered as Walker, Infomercial Ranger. Lost to the years as the guy who rocked a moustache 18 years too long, hawked home gyms in a tank top, and stared down bears on a cheesy cop drama. Conan O'Brien made you his nightly bitch for an entire season…is that Ginger on Ginger crime?
The story is the same with all of them; all were tough until no one was looking or paying, and then they simply crumpled and blew into awkward trivia answers. Steven Segal is relegated to making terrible straight-to-DVD movies using slow-mo during the action because he can't fight anymore. Oh, and when he's not doing that he's putting out albums called "Songs From The Crystal Cave" and "Mojo Priest". If you're not from Fraggle Rock you cannot call any music "From the Crystal Cave" and the term Mojo Priest should be saved for Tom Robbins books about Ex-patriots in Vietnam, not you Steven. Not you.
The last time I saw Van Damme, he had popped a boner (the only term appropriate for him) on Brazilian TV after dancing with 2 ladies on a talk show and everyone pointed and laughed while he effeminately tried to cover "his area". Jeff Speakman you may never have heard of, but trust me, the movie "Perfect Weapon" changed the game for my friends and I growing up. A blackbelt in Kenpo and karate, and armed with his 2 kenpo sticks, he was supposed to be the next action star. What'd he do? Nothing. A stream of straight-to-DVD movies and that's it. Michael Dudikoff from American Ninja had the greatest 80's action movie last name (it has DUDE in it!), but he could only make 3 sequels and then flare out. Mr. T went bankrupt, Arnold became a Republican, and Charles Bronson's death wish came true, only it was Ahlzeimer's disease instead of a .357 bullet.
So what's left of my childhood role models? Cartoons? You mean the racist ones? Ha! Let's start class off with my man Roadblock, who was the ONLY black guy in all of GI Joe, and he could only speak in rhyme. No that's totally normal in 1986. Remember King Louie from "The Jungle Book" and the cartoon "Tale Spin"?? Do you remember the song about the monkeys wanting to become real men, men just like you? Everyone else has a British accent but the monkeys all speak in jive? Wow. Incedentally, "The Jungle Book," written by the same Rudyard Kipling who coined the term White Man's Burden in the same poem where he referenced slaves as "Your new-caught sullen peoples, half devil and half child." Yay, Disney.
Disney movies were integral in my early years as I'm sure they were for many of you. In "The Little Mermaid" song "Under The Sea," watch as the crab introduces the Blackfish…they actually drew the Blackfish in blackface!! And wow, go back even farther to my two FAVORITE kids movies: "Peter Pan" and "Dumbo." In "Dumbo" the lead crow was named Jim. Jim Crow!! But I think the worst in retrospect is the "Injun Song" from "Peter Pan" which explains why the red man be so red (got embarrassed by a pretty girl kissing him and been red ever since) and they always say "how" because they want to learn more of the white man's ways. I mean, really? This is preached to generations of kids?
I mean, "Chip 'N' Dale Rescue Rangers" had the Siamese cats that lived in a "Randromat" that held "gambring" in the basement, and every single time an exploding cigar went off in someone's face, from Sylvester to Droopy Dog to Yosemite Sam to Elmer Fudd did it not look a bit (a lot) like blackface?
It's a wonder I didn't turn out as a Redskins fan eating Brazil nuts (look up the slang term for 'em to get that joke) and saying "Oh Herro!" to everyone that walked by.
Shit. Wait. Forget that last part.
So between the racist cartoons of my childhood and the lies of my beloved action stars later, what's left to cling to? My parents split when I was 4, and I have no blood siblings. All my rock star idols of days past are gone, with Gene Simmons on Trump's show, Metallica making movies about therapy, Axel Rose being Axel Rose, and Tommy Lee getting kicked out of a club I WORK AT (Spin, and he was throwing champagne bottles like a little bitch) for being late and for being a massive tool. Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, and Belinda Carlisle all did Playboy, but like 10 years too late for it to matter. Prince is a Jehovah's Witness for fuck's sake!! The Apollonia-Vanity-Carmen Electra guy that wrote music that 20 years of people have had sex/masturbated to/in is a knock-knock born again.
Bobby Brown is on a country music reality show, and Ice Cube just made a sequel to "Are We There Yet"!! What's next "Boyz In Tha Woodz," a coming of age story about a suburban dad (Cube) who packs up all the neighborhood brats into the SUV for a weekend camping trip at a KOA? All the stereotypes are here, including the fat white one, the black kid who's a good student but doesn't play sports, the effeminate white nerd who's th e butt of all the gay jokes, the white punk bully kid who carries a knife and the tomboy girl who stows away and is better at all things outdoors and sports related than the boys? Careful kids, could be coming to a theater near you.
Here I am, at a dead end on Nostalgia Trail and I'm not sure where to go from here. Everything I believed in as a kid is gone or a lie, and I'm swallowing that wafer down with the wine of finding out Santa isn't real. But then, there's a light in the darkness. Where I thought it was just bushes and overgrowth, it looks like there's a silhouette. I think it's a man, and I think he's beckoning me to follow him.
Is it Jesus?
Is it the Easter Bunny?
No. It couldn't be. Oh, it is IT'S YOU! You're here!!
"Ladies and gentlemen of my generation, may I present to you the return of my friend John, John Rambo."
He's not here to teach some lame Zen lesson about flowers and play a bluesy song on his guitar like Steven Segal, he doesn't give a fuck about you're denim on demin on denim combo Chuck, and he sure as hell doesn't have time to stop killing and pop a chubby there Jean-Claude. He's fucking Rambo and he's taken enough HGH to kill all of Myanmar/Burma 5x over. You think it's ok to kill hundreds of men, women, children and babies, burn villages to the ground, and kidnap one white woman??!! Not so fast. He's in his hut forging a machete just to kill the ringleader. You thought Wonderboy was badass in "The Natural"? Well, keep your lightning struck tree wood for yourself Sally. This is a machete made overnight out of FUCKING REBAR and he's gonna cut you in half with it. But not 'til he kills people with a bow and arrow, a gun, a machine gun, a jeep-mounted 60mm, and oh yeah, his fingers. I hope Patrick Swayze cries after seeing this movie because Stallone OWNS Dalton's signature move.
So to all of you kids in your late twenties or early thirties that feel abandoned, don't go to therapy or church or the BMW dealership (*wink*), save your money and go to the movie theater. Bring a few guys, a flask, and the remnants of that Testosteroni-covered male-in-the-80s ego, and sit back for your recharge. 236 times, over and over.
John Rambo and I love you.
---The Quammunist
So anyway, I'm 28, and I was the second youngest one in my class. This means that I'm at the age where most of my friends start contemplating 30 if they haven't already, they start turning 30 if they haven't already, and they start trying ever so slightly to act like they're thirty. I have two very close friends who have decided to go back to school, one of whom is turning 31 tonight, and I'm so proud of their decisions. That one may be in my cards soon as well, I just have to figure out money first.
But going hand in hand with contemplating your own mortality (and morality) is looking at the path you've chosen to get here. Mine kinda looks more like a ropes course from a Navy SEAL training academy than a path per se, but aside from a few dark areas I can sill trace how it was that I got through it. I can see zip lines that I'd give anything to go back and take again to feel that wind on my face, but I also see the mud bogs and sheer scaling wall that I remember almost making me quit.
Then it hits me! My past, Navy SEALs. Where's my Casey Rybeck? Where the fuck did Steven Segal go? And for that matter, where did all my action heroes go? All the guys from GI Joe to Van Damme, Chuck Norris to Jeff Speakman, where'd you go? They beat the shit out of terrorists, thugs, criminals, drug addicts, COBRA, and even a bear (thanks, Chuck.)! They'd know how to grab life like that guy's throat in Roadhouse and tear the esophagus of success out with one bloody Eagle Claw of maturity.
I need a montage.
We all know that Chuck Norris has his list of toughness and his precious Mountain Dew commercials, but let's face it. He's forever gone as Delta Force, and forever remembered as Walker, Infomercial Ranger. Lost to the years as the guy who rocked a moustache 18 years too long, hawked home gyms in a tank top, and stared down bears on a cheesy cop drama. Conan O'Brien made you his nightly bitch for an entire season…is that Ginger on Ginger crime?
The story is the same with all of them; all were tough until no one was looking or paying, and then they simply crumpled and blew into awkward trivia answers. Steven Segal is relegated to making terrible straight-to-DVD movies using slow-mo during the action because he can't fight anymore. Oh, and when he's not doing that he's putting out albums called "Songs From The Crystal Cave" and "Mojo Priest". If you're not from Fraggle Rock you cannot call any music "From the Crystal Cave" and the term Mojo Priest should be saved for Tom Robbins books about Ex-patriots in Vietnam, not you Steven. Not you.
The last time I saw Van Damme, he had popped a boner (the only term appropriate for him) on Brazilian TV after dancing with 2 ladies on a talk show and everyone pointed and laughed while he effeminately tried to cover "his area". Jeff Speakman you may never have heard of, but trust me, the movie "Perfect Weapon" changed the game for my friends and I growing up. A blackbelt in Kenpo and karate, and armed with his 2 kenpo sticks, he was supposed to be the next action star. What'd he do? Nothing. A stream of straight-to-DVD movies and that's it. Michael Dudikoff from American Ninja had the greatest 80's action movie last name (it has DUDE in it!), but he could only make 3 sequels and then flare out. Mr. T went bankrupt, Arnold became a Republican, and Charles Bronson's death wish came true, only it was Ahlzeimer's disease instead of a .357 bullet.
So what's left of my childhood role models? Cartoons? You mean the racist ones? Ha! Let's start class off with my man Roadblock, who was the ONLY black guy in all of GI Joe, and he could only speak in rhyme. No that's totally normal in 1986. Remember King Louie from "The Jungle Book" and the cartoon "Tale Spin"?? Do you remember the song about the monkeys wanting to become real men, men just like you? Everyone else has a British accent but the monkeys all speak in jive? Wow. Incedentally, "The Jungle Book," written by the same Rudyard Kipling who coined the term White Man's Burden in the same poem where he referenced slaves as "Your new-caught sullen peoples, half devil and half child." Yay, Disney.
Disney movies were integral in my early years as I'm sure they were for many of you. In "The Little Mermaid" song "Under The Sea," watch as the crab introduces the Blackfish…they actually drew the Blackfish in blackface!! And wow, go back even farther to my two FAVORITE kids movies: "Peter Pan" and "Dumbo." In "Dumbo" the lead crow was named Jim. Jim Crow!! But I think the worst in retrospect is the "Injun Song" from "Peter Pan" which explains why the red man be so red (got embarrassed by a pretty girl kissing him and been red ever since) and they always say "how" because they want to learn more of the white man's ways. I mean, really? This is preached to generations of kids?
I mean, "Chip 'N' Dale Rescue Rangers" had the Siamese cats that lived in a "Randromat" that held "gambring" in the basement, and every single time an exploding cigar went off in someone's face, from Sylvester to Droopy Dog to Yosemite Sam to Elmer Fudd did it not look a bit (a lot) like blackface?
It's a wonder I didn't turn out as a Redskins fan eating Brazil nuts (look up the slang term for 'em to get that joke) and saying "Oh Herro!" to everyone that walked by.
Shit. Wait. Forget that last part.
So between the racist cartoons of my childhood and the lies of my beloved action stars later, what's left to cling to? My parents split when I was 4, and I have no blood siblings. All my rock star idols of days past are gone, with Gene Simmons on Trump's show, Metallica making movies about therapy, Axel Rose being Axel Rose, and Tommy Lee getting kicked out of a club I WORK AT (Spin, and he was throwing champagne bottles like a little bitch) for being late and for being a massive tool. Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, and Belinda Carlisle all did Playboy, but like 10 years too late for it to matter. Prince is a Jehovah's Witness for fuck's sake!! The Apollonia-Vanity-Carmen Electra guy that wrote music that 20 years of people have had sex/masturbated to/in is a knock-knock born again.
Bobby Brown is on a country music reality show, and Ice Cube just made a sequel to "Are We There Yet"!! What's next "Boyz In Tha Woodz," a coming of age story about a suburban dad (Cube) who packs up all the neighborhood brats into the SUV for a weekend camping trip at a KOA? All the stereotypes are here, including the fat white one, the black kid who's a good student but doesn't play sports, the effeminate white nerd who's th e butt of all the gay jokes, the white punk bully kid who carries a knife and the tomboy girl who stows away and is better at all things outdoors and sports related than the boys? Careful kids, could be coming to a theater near you.
Here I am, at a dead end on Nostalgia Trail and I'm not sure where to go from here. Everything I believed in as a kid is gone or a lie, and I'm swallowing that wafer down with the wine of finding out Santa isn't real. But then, there's a light in the darkness. Where I thought it was just bushes and overgrowth, it looks like there's a silhouette. I think it's a man, and I think he's beckoning me to follow him.
Is it Jesus?
Is it the Easter Bunny?
No. It couldn't be. Oh, it is IT'S YOU! You're here!!
"Ladies and gentlemen of my generation, may I present to you the return of my friend John, John Rambo."
He's not here to teach some lame Zen lesson about flowers and play a bluesy song on his guitar like Steven Segal, he doesn't give a fuck about you're denim on demin on denim combo Chuck, and he sure as hell doesn't have time to stop killing and pop a chubby there Jean-Claude. He's fucking Rambo and he's taken enough HGH to kill all of Myanmar/Burma 5x over. You think it's ok to kill hundreds of men, women, children and babies, burn villages to the ground, and kidnap one white woman??!! Not so fast. He's in his hut forging a machete just to kill the ringleader. You thought Wonderboy was badass in "The Natural"? Well, keep your lightning struck tree wood for yourself Sally. This is a machete made overnight out of FUCKING REBAR and he's gonna cut you in half with it. But not 'til he kills people with a bow and arrow, a gun, a machine gun, a jeep-mounted 60mm, and oh yeah, his fingers. I hope Patrick Swayze cries after seeing this movie because Stallone OWNS Dalton's signature move.
So to all of you kids in your late twenties or early thirties that feel abandoned, don't go to therapy or church or the BMW dealership (*wink*), save your money and go to the movie theater. Bring a few guys, a flask, and the remnants of that Testosteroni-covered male-in-the-80s ego, and sit back for your recharge. 236 times, over and over.
John Rambo and I love you.
---The Quammunist
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