Hard to Kill
I've been pretty sick recently. I had strep throat about 2-3 weeks ago, and I thought I was all better. That is until it seems to have come back this recent Monday night. Thankfully, my amazing girlfriend has been taking care of me (as much as it pains me to admit the need for care...)
Fortunately for me, she has cable at her apartment. So, naturally, while she was at class I began indulging in my self-imposed taboo vice of complete media culture ingestion. How to temper this thirst? Well, I decided to consume one frivolous program geared towards pure entertainment alongside another geared towards something a bit more educational for each television programming increment this evening. Goodfellas, MythBusters, How it's Built, Simpsons, Jeapordy and Modern Marvels aside... somehow I ended up watching a really corny Steven Segal movie from 1990 called Hard to Kill.
It really got me thinking at one point, amidst all the stray bad-guy bullets and flying ponytail trailing white-man-fist, what is the deal with the hero? I mean, seriously. Time and again the man (or woman) will go about ruthlessly slaughtering rank after rank of disposable looking henchmen, often times including their (slightly tougher) named counterparts, who might actually get billing on the movie credits, only to eventually reach the boss of the whole operation only to send said boss-person to jail in the 'pursuit of justice.' "You're gonna get what's comin' to ya, dirtbag." Right. He gets a stiff bed and three squares a day while four dozen other guys get a bullet between then temples or a snapped trachea. That's fuckin' justice.