Hello, Aeroplane “Where am I?” “Earth.”
Like Tom Cruise doesn’t know that. He just fell out of the sky, after pushing a trillion-dollar concept plane beyond its limits. That limit being Mach 10. After treating us to near-as-makes-no-difference exactly the same opening sequence as the legendary 1986 classic, this movie immediately sets the standard for what’s to come. And what’s coming, dear readers, is truly epic.
Yes, I agree; that word has been overused by people a lot dumber than me. But here, it fits.
Oh, no! He throws the rulebook in the trash! Now, you know you’re in for something special! This guy eats Green Berets for breakfast! Whatever the fuck that means!
I like the multiverse theory. Why? Because it’s comforting to know (or, at least imagine) that out there in the vast, endless realm of possibility’s there is at least ONE timeline in which I, a six-foot three, 160 pound example of human man-being actually do have the balls to stop this drivel, right now, stand up, walk out my door, go down exactly one flight of stairs, knock on the door of my downstairs neighbor and then, when he opens the door, grab him by the rafters of whatever rancid piece of molded cloth he decided to put on this morning, throw him down the other three flights of stairs, all the way down to the ground, and then, if he was still alive at this point, stomp on his whining skull with my Meindl Island MFS Active GTX shoe’s (which I, judge, indèèd put on beforehand, so premeditated? Yes, sir, I bet you’re ass!), until his brains where all over the place and his body stopped twitching.
You know… Because he was loud. Playing that obnoxious music all day. And that banging! What was that banging?
Anyway, now he’s dead. I murdered him. And you know what the weird thing is? No one cares, man. Really, not one single person cares that I, some random idiot, actually murdered some other random idiot. It reminds me of Highlander. The movie. You know, with Christopher Lambert? And Queen? At some point, in that movie, the bad guy murders some random asshole in the streets of some random American city (LA!) and then just stands around, waiting for… nothing, apparaently. No cops. No whaling sirens. No screaming. He then starts to shout things like ‘hello? I just killed a man!’ And then, brilliantly, awesomely, someone in some nearby apartment block opens his window and yells ‘shut the fuck up!’
Or that might have been part two. God, I love my life right now. I mean, how could I not? Just look at me, sitting here: my fourth floor apartment has an excellent and unobstructed view of the nighttime city of Heerlen… It’s twenty-nine minutes past nine in the evening, and I’m surrounded by all the comforts a modern, 21st century man needs to experience his life as ‘very well indeed’. He’s smoking and drinking, living a comfortable life as a citizen of a still working, law-abiding democracy.
Watching awesome movies, writing about them… hoping that someone out there in this great big beautiful world we inhabit, someone (preferably female, in the age of 45-55 (smoking allowed, sagging tits: not so much…) reads this and thinks, ‘damn..! Now, this is a man I would like to spend the rest of my days with…’ Whether it be drinking and smoking, taking long walks along some imaginary beaches, discussing the pro’s of Eugenics against the con’s of totally random human reproduction, or fucking each other’s brains out: call me. My number is at the bottom.
So, Tom Cruise…
Do I love Tom Cruise? I think, in some none-gay, possibly-gay-way, I do. I’m not quite sure why, though. He isn’t particularly attractive. And that Scientology shit? Not my thing, man, if you know what I mean. And if you don’t: even so…
To conclude: Top Gun: Maverick is an awesome movie, and if you haven’t seen it all ready, you should do so, as soon as humanly possible. Because your President is going to end the world in nuclear fire. In the meantime: let it go, let it flow, and enjoy…!
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