Last Of the Mohicans

As of right now, my mind is currently being utterly ravaged by the sheer skull-bending radness/terribleness of this. It's like someone tore off the top of my skull, overfilled it with amazing and rawk! and stapled it back on but only after blindfolding me and spinning me around 375 times, like you'd do for a highly-caffeinated, over-sugared kid who's about to pin the tail on a unicorn donkey at a legendary birthday party. In Downtown Radical Town. In the Summer Of Incredible.

I remember when I was in kindergarten and I was obsessed with all those excellent 80's action shows (my love for Knight Rider and The Greatest American Hero are well-documented on this very worldwideweblog) and every time my mom cut my hair I would beg and plead to have her give me a B.A. haircut. She would try and tell me she didn't know how to do it, so I tried to explain it to her. "It's really easy. Just take the clippers down here like this and cut off a little above my ears but leave a strip in the middle and some over my ears and I will look so cool! Please?!"

She still claimed she couldn't do it. If I didn't know better, I might just think she was playing dumb to get herself out of giving her son a very embarrassing (for her, ultra-rad for me) haircut.

I kinda still want a mohawk. I bet I could do it myself. Where'd I put those clippers?

Crazy For Swayze

I just watched Roadhouse because there was nothing else on. I will say this: Roadhouse is easily the best movie ever made. It is why Isaac Newton, Isaac Asimov, Isaac Brock and Chris Isaak got together in their secret underground lair - the Isaackave - and invented the movie camera. It is why salmon swim upstream. It is why the sky is blue and why birds sing. It is like Walker, Texas Ranger on crack cocaine. Also, Sam Elliott is in it, which makes it 100 times better. Mathematically speaking, this makes it roughly 10 trillion times better than any movie. Ever. Basically, it's Citizen Kane. With kicking. And tight sweat pants. And mullets, sweet sassy molassey, the mullets in this movie are amazing.

Don't believe me? See for yourself:

Seriously. This movie is awesome. This I swear. If you can name me a better movie, I will not believe you. Because you are lying.

This Is Why I Read Comics

From the latest issue of the Immortal Iron Fist, issue six. I vow to use "Less talking. More kicking." in casual conversation more often.

Brubaker, Fraction and Aja (as well as the guest flashback artists) have been knocking it out of the park with this series. If you love kicking, stuff blowing up and overpowering pulp hero action, this is the book for you. The first trade's out soon. Don't miss it. Or I will be forced to one-inch punch you in the Adam's apple. For reals.

"I Put the 'Action' in 'Action Jeans.'"

I lurk over at Chris Sims' Invincible Super-Blog (it's hands-down the funniest comics blog I've stumbled across) every now and then and he posted the following picture which is guaranteed to make your nose bleed immediately:

Go ahead. Click on it so you can read the ad copy. Yeah. I believe the word you're looking for is: "Wow."

Letter Never Sent, Vol. 3

An open letter to the old guy whose tapered jeans were altogether too high and too tight:

I could totally see the outline of your junk. That's gross. Seriously, it looked like the album cover for Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones. Nasty. That strangling feeling you experience whenever you wedge yourselves into those stonewashed relics is your boys being crushed. Just break down and buy some jeans that were made some time in the last decade or so. The universe, your boys and I (especially I) thank you mightily.

Sincerely,
Dylan

P.S.: Chuck Norris, you are hereby exempt from this open letter. Keep on karate kicking drug dealers in them tight-old Wranglers. It's just too hilarious for you to stop. The universe desires, nay, demands you keep on kicking in them tightie-bluies. That is all.