Erectile dysfunction is commonly defined as an inability to get it up. A more accurate definition: a difficulty with keeping it up, better known as the Moody Johnson syndrome. It’s up, it’s down, it’s up, it’s taking a break, it’s distracted, it’s up again, etc. When special moments of intimacy with a loved one occur, most guys want their appendages to commit whole-hog to becoming small (8″ to 9″) baseball bats made of hickory. As I understand it, that’s what the taking of Viagra and Cialis is mostly about, i.e., wanting to be “bat”-man.
Side issue: There are people out there who actually intend to buy the Deadpool Bluray. So, you know, they can watch it with their kids or with friends on a weekday evening or Sunday afternoon…whenever. Think about that. On second thought, don’t.
My 2.17.16 Deadpool review (“What If The Antichrist Wasn’t a Person But a Movie?”): I lasted a little more than 40 minutes with Deadpool — not bad considering. I decided I’d be leaving early on, or right after the opening kick-ass sequence on the highway overpass when this quip-happy, totally indestructible Daffy Duck wastes…what, 25 or 30 guys?
“If a superhero flick is smart and clever and well-measured enough (Ant-Man, both Captain America flicks, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight) I’m more or less there along with everyone else, but this…this is smug, empty, super-annoying, surface-skimming cartoon-level dogshit. Yeah, asshole — I know that’s the point but the point is submental.
“The only reason I didn’t leave at the ten-minute mark (I caught a 5:30 pm show at the Cinerama Dome) is because I wouldn’t have anything to write about if I did that.
“The hyper fast-food violence is, of course, deliberately arch and inconsequential and Looney Tunes manic…meta meta meta meta…cheap, self-referencing gags about cliches-upon-cliches that pirhouette into more gags…’produced by Asshats‘…exactly what all those empty coke bottles who went to this thing in droves last weekend are looking for.
“I was never a big Daffy Duck fan as a kid — I always thought he was too hyper, too screwball, too self-regarding. Same here.
“I lasted until the cancer diagnosis. I was slumping lower and lower into my seat….hating myself for paying $15 to see this shite but at the same cutting myself a break. On top of which I could feel my very own cancerous tumor growing in my lower abdomen.
“Anyone who goes to this movie and comes out saying “wow, that was pretty good!”…70% contempt, 30% pity. You don’t like good action, you don’t like craft, you don’t care about that thing that the Russo brothers have in spades and that Deadpool helmer Tim Miller will never, ever have. All you care about is sinking into another jizz-wank hot tub that reenforces your glib bullshit attitudes about superhero movies…you’re as low as it gets in the movie-watching (or more accurately movie-sampling) realm.”
