Good evening to all you ferocious film hounds,
I would like to start off this weeks installment by apologizing for depriving you all of your scheduled syringe-load of savagery, which Dr. Lib Slayer was supposed to administer on Sunday. I have been unusually busy doing savage things (lifting trees, packing full tins, etc…) and was unable to provide for you all, and for that, I am truly sorry.
Now, let me introduce you to one of the true legends of cinematic savagery: John McClane, from the Die Hard series. John McClane is just some cop who happens to have the worst luck of any man in the history of humanity (except maybe Bill Clinton, that whole Monica Lewinsky shenanigans was a real ball-buster), and who also happens to be one of the most savage motherfuckers you’ll ever see grace the silver screen.
First off, in each of the series’ three movies (I don’t count the fourth because I’m not a communist) McClane literally kills like a thousand dudes by himself. He starts off every movie with only a measly pistol and a pack of butts, and ends each one totally bloody and beaten to shit, but with a loooooong trail of dead bad guys behind him. And I love how he’s always totally just fucking up these fruity little Euro dudes who think they’re hot shit and can just do whatever they want, and McClane comes outta nowhere, gives ’em the good ol’ “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker” and totally saves the day. So American it hurts (by hurt i mean like a good, finessed yet toothy blow job kind of pain).
If you’ve seen the first movie, you’ll remember when some Euro fruitcakes try and stop McClane by shooting a bunch of glass so he has to walk barefoot over it, and he takes it like an absolute champ, fucks the Euros up, and saves the day, all with a cig in his mouth. You know how hard it must be to take down an entire crew of highly trained soldiers/criminals with the lungs of a chain-smoker? The answer would be really fucking hard. But, as any true savage would do, Johnny Mcclane doesn’t complain, doesn’t whine like a little bitch about some stupid broken glass in his feet, and takes care of business. Love the hustle, the intensity, and the unparalleled savagery.
Cheers to you, Johnny.