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Saturday, July 19, 2014

You Can’t Swing A Dead Token Minority Without Hitting A Conservative Movie These Days

Big Hollywood is sailing around the internets, planting its flag in every film and TV show it can find, and claiming them for conservatism.  But American Thinker’s Ben-Peter Terpstra is not content to eat their dust, and has issued his own proprietary list of 30 Politically Incorrect Characters.  Warning:  his choices may shock you.
1. Detective Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood) in Dirty Harry. Why: Because sometimes the “politically correct” system is too political, and because vigilante justice always beats death in a gripping police thriller. So, yes, Harry stands up to liberal San Francisco’s recidivist culture. “Well, do you, punk?”
Or they may bore you.  Not to go off-topic, but I notice that no matter how much conservative kulturkampfers may adore Dirty Harry (some, like Big Hollywood’s John Nolte, even going so far as to adopt the film title as a nom de blog) they really don’t seem to care much for the sequel, Magnum Force, in which Harry is pitted against a cabal of rogue cops who take his anti-civil liberties bias to its logical conclusion.
5. Jack Moore (Richard Gere) in Red Corner. Why: An American capitalist in Red China finds himself at the mercy of the corrupt Chinese court system in a jail for a murder he didn’t commit. What’s not to like?
6. William Wallace (Mel Gibson) in Braveheart.Why: Scottish-Americans have the right to enjoy 13th-century Scottish warriors taking on effeminate Englishmen.  
And getting their asses kicked.  I guess the lesson here is, don’t tauntingly flip your kilt and bare your bum to a group of effeminate, but armed Englishmen, ’cause those teabags will make you give up the booty.
7. Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) in Spider-Man.Why: Spider-Man is just an all American guy, who happens to be the clean Dirty Harry of Superheroes. Oh, yes, and he adores his Bible-quoting aunt. Altogether now: “Ah…”
Except Spider-Man believes in personal responsibility, and abhors the abuse of power.  Also, he went to ESU rather than Messiah College, so even if he did apply for a position in the Bush Administration, I doubt he would make it through one of Monica Goodling’s job interviews.
9. Charlotte Gray (Cate Blanchett) in Charlotte Gray. Why: Now, honestly, how many women are willing to (a) drop out of the sky and land in France; (b) save Jews; (c) fight appeasing frogs and (d) undermine Hitler’s National Socialists? Okay, besides Australia’s Nancy Wake. You go girlfriend.
And why is she “politically incorrect?”  Because liberals believe that women should be out burning their bras and aborting their babies, not doing something useful and practical like skydiving, or undermining Hitler.
10. Spartacus (Kirk Douglas) in Spartacus. Why: Because Stanley Kubrick’s 1960s classic reminds me of a time, when Americans were free to talk about white and black slaves in the same sentence, man’s eternal struggle against the state, and…okay, let’s be honest, the gladiator fights are awesome dude.
If we are ever to heal the lingering wounds of racial injustice in this country, both white and black must unite on common ground, and agree that while African-Americans have some legitimate beefs about the Southern plantation system and Jim Crow, white-on-white slavery during the Roman Empire was worse, because Kirk Douglas was crucified, while Kunte Kinte only had part of his foot lopped off.
11. King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) in 300. Why: Because, let’s face it, this is one of the greatest post-9/11 movies, with groundbreaking visual statements, a comically camp Persian King (read: Iran), an anti-appeasement narrative (read: War on Terror), and…well, okay more great battle scenes (read: testosterone).
It’s funny that the activists who want to ban same-sex marriage are the same people slobbering over a movie that was, to borrow a phrase from Patton Oswalt, “gayer than eight guys blowing nine guys.”
17. James Bond (Daniel Craig) in Quantum of Solace. Why: Our enemy, Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), works for the mysterious Quantum organization, Green Planet, a green front group. We witness him preaching about green destruction, and learn about his great land “gifts” to save the green planet. And, we laugh – or at least I do – when Greene praises his own good green works. So outrageous. So now. So Gore. And, yes, only the gun-loving 007 can take on this green nut.
Of course, the “green front group” was just that, camouflage for a plan to seize control of a major natural resource, and slowly bankrupt a world in desperate need of it.  The story would have made as much, if not more sense, and probably would have lead to a more emotionally satisfying climax, if Greene had been the CEO of Exxon-Mobil.
20. Jesus (James Caviezel) in The Passion of the Christ. Why: I hate to topple Frank Rich’s theory. No, I didn’t instigate a pogrom after watching this movie in London. But, I probably said, “Isn’t it great that God sent a Jew to save us?” Honestly. How many Londoners participated in pogroms after the premiere? 
Not nearly as many as those who slowly backed away from you in the lobby after the show.
24. Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) in 24: Redemption. Why: Finally, Jack Bauer is tapping into his inner Sean Hannity again.
In fact, he spent his entire hiatus living inside Sean Hannity’s neck.
You’ll see him working with a missionary in Africa. You’ll see Africans killing Africans. And, you’ll see how the United Nations corrupts the continent. This is thought-provoking stuff people.
Specifically, the thought it provokes is, “Where’s the hell’s the remote?”
26.  Swoff (Jake Gyllenhaal) in Jarhead. Why: Not the anti-war sermon liberals were expecting. In fact, Swofford, a Marine Sniper in Gulf War I, is a likeable, albeit imperfect character, with penchant for pranks and he’s really in love with his gun. I mean, really in love with his gun. He’s a walking NRA advertisement. 
So a movie about a Marine sniper who never fires his rifle is an advertisement for the NRA?  Hey, I’m not complaining; if the gun enthusiasts would rather shoot less and spend more time caressing their pieces in the privacy of their own homes, I’m all for it.  It just seems odd.  Anyway, cue the late, great, Don LaFontaine:  “In a world without subtext or double entendres, one man is free to love the penis substitute of his choice without having to hear a bunch of Freudian crap.  This summer, Jack Gyllenhaal is Don Knotts in, The Reluctant Sniper.”
But perhaps Ben-Peter’s most eye-opening choices were his picks for Politically Incorrect Characters 2 and 3:
2 & 3: The Clones (Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson) in The Island. Why: Because it takes two pro-life clones to expose the body party parts industry. 
Well, the clones were pro-life in the sense that they, themselves, wanted to live, and didn’t much care if other people had to die to ensure their own survival.  But I guess the only genuinely surprising thing about The Island is its staying power.  Theatrically, it came and went in the blink of an eye, but right-wing culture warriors have been clutching this movie to their bosoms without surcease since 2005; Human Events Online named it the third most conservative movie of the year:
3. The Island: Reviewers despised it. Audiences treated it as just another sci-fi flick. But The Island is a forceful and compelling pro-life statement.
Is it?  Is it really?  Well, we gave it the Better Living Through Bad Movies treatment back in 2006, and for those who missed it the first time, we present a special encore engagement below the fold:

The Island (2005)
Directed by Michael Bay
Written by Caspian Tredwell-Owen and Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci, Story by Caspian Tredwell-Owen
We should probably dispose of the most contentious issue up front. Some have charged that this film is nothing more than a shameless rip-off of an obscure 1979 horror movie called Parts: The Clonus Horror, which featured Peter Graves and the relief Darren from Bewitched, and starred that guy who played the Gene Shalit-looking fireman onEmergency!  And while one must concede that The Island does seem to recycle the premise and every major plot point of the earlier film, recent events have shown that plagiarism is a conservative value, so this fact only seems to strengthen its cred.
We open on a sleek, high-tech yacht. Scarlett Johansson is standing in the bow, wearing a filmy white gown and a long, gossamer scarf that’s whipping around in the wind like a Water Wiggle. As we pull out, we see Ewan McGregor parading about the deck in a skintight, futuristic Union suit, while Scarlett ineffectually attempts to outwit her own scarf.  The huge head of smirking middle-aged man suddenly appears in the sky and tries to sell us a Caribbean cruise package. Cut back to the boat, where Ewan has fallen overboard into the churning sea, and is playing Marco Polo with the Blue Man Group.
Just as he drowns, Ewan wakes up in his tiny and extremely white bedroom, where a thousand gallons of water is rapidly draining from his mattress. The viewer assumes that the previous sequence symbolized a violent bed-wetting, but apparently not, since Ewan goes into the bathroom and we get to spend precious screen time watching him take a lengthy whizz. But hey, director Bay has over two hours and fifteen minutes to kill, so why not linger over our hero’s entire morning routine? French cineastes still talk about the austere beauty of the flossing sequence.
Ewan lives in the Mall of Contaminated America, with a bunch of clones who think they’re the survivors of an ecological catastrophe, and who gad about in matching track suits like those elderly couples who lead “active lifestyles” at leisure villages in Coral Gables. He apparently lives on the 3000th floor, since the ride down to the food court takes so long that instead of playing Muzak, the elevator screens Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” starring Michael Clarke Duncan. Except in this version, he doesn’t get stoned to death to promote local crop yield, but instead wins a ticket to Fantasy Island, the last unpolluted spot on Earth.
Unlike the similar mall in Logan’s Run, the inhabitants of this installation don’t spend their days getting plastic surgery, committing ritual suicide, or teleporting into strangers’ living rooms for a bout of anonymous sex and caftan modeling. Instead, they take yoga and tai chi, swim and play tennis, all with their cloned hair.
While there are sinister, black-clad guards who gently chide people if they get out of line, the complex seems to be ruled entirely by lunch ladies, who imperiously deny Ewan’s request for bacon. But Scarlett suddenly appears and wins Ewan’s heart by coaxing the luncheonfuhrerto add some fried swine flesh to her bowl of Purina Clone Chow.
Ewan thanks Scarlett, but alas, he’s a close talker, and there are rules against proximity to girls (apparently, the plague that wiped out all life on Earth was cooties). He gets sent to the Principal’s office, where Sean Bean gives him a stern talking to, and a test which involves strapping Ewan into a Lay-Z-Boy and shoving tiny robots into his tear ducts. The results indicate that Ewan has an aptitude for working with the public, indicating his suitability for careers in the Retail sector, Airline Hospitality, or Rock Stupid Action Movies. Then he leaves and walks down a long hall.
Turns out that Ewan has pretty much the same job that Robert Duvall had in THX1138, except without the good drugs. For that, he must go to Steve Buscemi, a construction foreman who pours booze into Ewan during their clandestine rendezvous, presumably because he’s one of those guys who think it’s funny to get his girlfriend’s Pomeranian drunk on malt liquor.
Steve goes to fix the plumbing in the Maternity Ward, and we get to watch the birth of a clone, which turns out to involve pretty much the same process as preparing a Boil-in-the-Bag entrée, except with less MSG and more placenta. The important thing is, we get to see a gooey, naked, middle-aged man yanked out of a Ziplock sandwich bag.
Meanwhile, Ewan, still loitering around the construction site, catches a butterfly and places it tenderly in a matchbox, in a moment that would be every bit as poignant and lyrical as the last scene of All Quiet on the Western Front, if only someone would shoot him.
Alas, no one does. In fact, it’s now nearly 30 minutes into the film, and all we’ve seen so far are people walking down halls, a mild scolding, and a conspiracy to defraud a lunch lady of bacon. I don’t mean to come off the Philistine, but there were more gunfights and action sequences in The Red Balloon.
Anyway, the work day is through. Now comes Product Placement Time!  Grab a tall frosty Aquafina and head on over to the X-Box Pavilion, where it’s Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Clones as a holographic Ewan and Scarlett literally knock each other’s teeth out. Finally, some action! Except we have to cut away from that after about ten seconds because Bay has some more scenes of people walking down halls.
Ewan and Scarlett go to some sort of Clone Danceteria, where everyone sits on couches and watches high definition videos of sunfish while sipping fruit juice and making awkward conversation. It’s either the dullest disco on the planet, or they’ve wandered into a Whit Stillman film. Anyway, Scarlett wins the lottery and she and Ewan limply clasp each other’s forearms in celebration. But this tepid embrace sets off a “proximity alert,” so evidently the installation is run by nuns from a Catholic high school.
That night, Ewan releases the butterfly and follows it to General Hospital, where he skulks around and watches one of the clones give birth. But the instant the baby clears her vulva, the mother is given a lethal injection, which suggests that in the future, HMOs will finally get tough about curtailing the length of hospital stays.
Meanwhile, Michael Clarke Duncan is in the OR having his liver involuntarily harvested, which means that he won’t be going to the Island, but will instead wake up in a tub full of ice in a hotel in Mexico. He doesn’t seem to care for this prospect, so he gets up in the middle of the operation and runs screaming down the halls. The guards shoot tiny grappling hooks into his calves, which is technically not an action sequence, but it’s still an improvement over watching people walk down halls while getting nothing shot into their calves.
Finally — okay, this time for real — we get some action, as Ewan grabs Scarlett and they run around the steam plant where they shot the end of Highlander. (Admittedly, running isn’t much, but it’s still more exciting them watching them take their spinning class.) Scarlet is naturally skeptical about Ewan’s story. Fortunately, by the most random coincidence ever, they fall through a hole in the floor and right into the boil-in-the-bag nursery, where Caribbean Vacation Sales Guy is on the PA system, tediously explaining the plot to the Ziplocked clones.
Scarlett is thunderstruck. After all, she’s a four-year old clone who has spent her entire existence sealed in an artificial environment and fed a constant diet of false information. To accept the truth, she must reject everything she has ever believed. Fortunately, the producers didn’t cast George W. Bush as the ingénue, because she actually makes the adjustment, and we’re free to get on with our movie.
Principal Bean hires mercenary Djimon Hounsou from Blackwater — sorry, Blackhawk Security — to hunt down his truant merchandise. Meanwhile, the merchandise pops out of the top of a derelict missile silo in the middle of the desert. They head to a biker bar, where Ewan bursts into a filthy toilet stall and interrupts Steve in mid-defecation. Now, no offense to Steve Buscemi, who I think is a very entertaining actor, and who I’ve almost forgiven for aiding and abetting Bay in making Armageddon. But — and again, no disrespect intended — if you find it necessary to make Steve Buscemi unappealing, you really don’t have to work.  This.  Hard.  First of all, he’s standing next to Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson. Contrast is working in your favor. Give him some dorky glasses or a pair of high-water pants and Mission Accomplished! It really isn’t necessary to get his metabolic ejecta involved. Thank you.
Steve takes the two runaways home and explains that they’re clones who were cultured to provide spare parts for their super-rich sponsors, and then thrown away. This is probably the part that conservatives read as a slippery slope argument against stem cell research. To me it felt more like an allegory about the balance of power between the Bush Pioneers and anyone below the Federal poverty line. Well, less of an allegory and more of a documentary. Which probably explains Bay’s uncharacteristically restrained tone in the first half of the film; Harvest of Shame didn’t have that many car stunts either.
Steve drives the clones to the train station so they can take the mag-lev bullet monorail to LA, which eliminates the suspense about whether Al Gore won the 2012 election. Unfortunately, the mercenaries shoot Steve while he’s buying Ewan a Map to the Stars Homes, triggering a bunch more running.  Our mimeographed heroes  finally make it to the train, and we can see that Scarlett is deeply traumatized by Steve’s murder. “What’s wrong with these people?” she gasps. “They killed him!”  FYI, she says this about ten seconds after she repeatedly nail-gunned a guy to a door.
Then there’s more running and shouting. The clones climb onto a tractor-trailer, and the mercs follow them onto the freeway, where Ewan releases the load. Huge truck axles pour off the trailer, smashing into traffic and causing cars to crash, flip and burn. Dozens of innocent commuters are killed, or so badly maimed that they have to cash in their clones. So Ewan managed to kill some of his friends back at the installation, too. Little Miss What’s Wrong With These People surveys the horrific carnage and chirps, “Good job!”
Ewan hijacks a flying motorcycle, and we get to enjoy that whole speeders-through-the-Forest-of-Endor thing again (with the same sound effects, too), until he crashes into a skyscraper, and we get more scenes of people walking down halls — except this time it’s spiced up by the sight of Ewan plowing into office workers at high speed, killing them on impact and sending their ISO9000 Quality mugs and TPS reports flying. Finally Scarlett and Ewan crash through the opposite side of the building and fall 70 floors, which doesn’t kill them, although it does reduce their resale value.
They hook up with Ewan’s sponsor, who’s a Scottish boat designer with a cirrhotic liver. Sponsor Ewan pretends he wants to help; instead, he and Ewan wind up in a warehouse where he holds a gun to his clone’s head while the two of them scream and swear at each other in a scene that’s sort of like watching the Olsen Twins in Reservoir Dogs. Fortunately, Djimon arrives and pwns the original.
Ewan goes back to his sponsor’s house, where Scarlett has apparently unscrambled the Playboy Channel and learned about sex, because she orders him to open his mouth, then jumps him. Considering that he’s 3 years old and she’s 4, I think this technically makes them both pedophiles, and the whole thing feels coming upon a sex scene in the middle of Rugrats.
Meanwhile, back at the installation, Principal Bean declares that Ewan has broken Ape Law by growing a soul, so he decides to recall the late model clones. Which means that all the hall-walking dullards we grew to barely tolerate during the first half of the film are going to die!
The guards start the massacre by going through the prenatal warehouse and slashing open the uterine Hefty bags, killing hundreds of unborn clones. I guess I should feel bad, but I once had a power failure right after I got home from the market, and lost a whole box of Bagel Bites, three Budget Gourmet entrees, and a brand new tub of Cool Whip Free, so cry me a friggin’ river.
Ewan flies back to the installation posing as his sponsor, while Scarlett lures the mercenaries to Venice Beach. After watching the guy juggle bowling balls on stilts, and getting their ears pierced, the mercs capture and return her to General Hospital.
Meanwhile, the installation guards put all the factory second clones with the slightly irregular souls in a chamber, which they fill with gas. I can’t shake the feeling that Bay is attempting to draw some sort of parallel here, but it’s just too subtle for me.
Then Ewan has a fight with Principal Bean, and it doesn’t go very well. “I brought you into this world,” Mr. Bean shouts as he throttles Ewan, “And I can take you out of it!”  Fortunately, just then Bill Cosby serves the principal with a cease and desist order for stealing his act.
Countless white-clad clones pour from the tip of the missile silo in what I’m sure isn’t meant to be a visual metaphor of any kind. They commence to roam in a mighty herd across the prairie, while Enya-like music warbles on the soundtrack. Ewan and Scarlett survey their work with expressions which seem to say, “We’ve just released a lot of deeply stupid people on the world.” On the bright side, they’re in Arizona, so they can vote for John McCain.
As for me, I found myself with a deep and profound yearning that Bay’s vision of the future come to pass, because I drank so much in order to get through this film that I destroyed my liver, and I’m willing to pay Boromir for a spare.

Posted by scott on Saturday, January 10th, 2009 at 9:51 pm.

23 Responses to “You Can’t Swing A Dead Token Minority Without Hitting A Conservative Movie These Days”

A list of great conservative movies. Never seen that one before. Truly Big Hollywood is the wave of the future! I do love how general and meaningless the criteria for “conservative films” are (The good guys win! The bad guys are bad!).
As tempting as it may be, I think you guys should limit your exposure to Big Hollywood. The whole site is a meaningless exercise. If anything, it’s a step back from Libertas. Those guys at least had a goal (Create conservative movies or find ones that have been overlooked) that they eventually abandoned in favor of pissing and moaning about Hollywood liberals. Breitbart and Co. have decided to skip that whole “addressing the problem” part and just piss and moan.
Damn you and your elitist, literary wiles! Unable to find the book at my local library, I have been forced by this sample to purchase a copy as soon as I can remember how to use PayPal.
“13th-century Scottish warriors taking on effeminate Englishmen.”
“okay, let’s be honest, the gladiator fights are awesome dude.”
“well, okay more great battle scenes (read: testosterone).”
“he’s really in love with his gun. I mean, really in love with his gun.”
That’s some of the gayest stuff I’ve ever read. It’s also really fucking boring. What a waste of letters that article was. What is it with these freaks and “Conservative Lists”? Do Liberals ever do this?
The Dirty Harry thing I find especially risible. The only reason the audience sympathizes with him is that, from our omnipotent perspective, we can SEE the bad guy being bad. If not for that, all we would have is a clearly unbalanced cop making wild claims. It would have been wildly irresponsible of his superiors to let him keep going like that. Crikey.
10. Spartacus
11. King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) in 300
Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?
it takes two pro-life clones to expose the body party parts industry.
The body party parts industry needs a bailout, baby!
Incidentally, this knob does know that Spartacus was written byan actual member of the Hollywood blacklist, yes?
Gundamhead, you skipped the wonderful – if slightly nauseating – image of Kiefer Sutherland tapping Sean Hannidate (and I really appreciate Scott planting the word ‘teabag’ in my subconscious before I got to that part).
Now if you’d excuse me as I got some overdue curling up and whimpering to attend to in that corner over there, kthxbai.
Richard Gere wouldn’t have been arrested if he wasn’t guilty. Ship him off to Chinese Gitmo, no human rights for murderers!
Flip, do you see any evidence of that knob knowing ANYTHING?
That was as excruciating stupid as the list of Conservative Rock Songs.
“The Gods Must be Crazy” is a conservative movie?
And where is “Red Dawn”? John Wayne?
Sorry but that list is not even close.
Actually Spartacus was written by two blacklisted authors.
The novel by Howard Fast and the movie by Dalton Trumbo.
Like conservatives loving movies about the Spartans and Gladiators. It is an ability to be completely un-self aware.
“5. Jack Moore (Richard Gere) in Red Corner.”
Ironically, he GETS a trial and is eventually able to prove his innocence with the help of his Chinese public defender.
“6. William Wallace (Mel Gibson) in Braveheart.”
I didn’t know that a 13th century uprising of oppressed peoples against their colonial overlords represented a form of modern American conservatism in action. Using those criteria, the Native Americans at the Little Big Horn must have been the most conservative people of all.
“7. Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) in Spider-Man.”
A 20-something, college-educated, blue-stater living in the big city working two jobs just to make ends meet and going through great personal hardship to serve the community doesn’t exactly seem like a model of the great conservative ubermensch to me. Oh and he works for the dreaded Emm-Ess-Emm.
“9. Charlotte Gray (Cate Blanchett) in Charlotte Gray.”
Because if going to war against Nazis is conservative, FDR was the greatest conservative of them all.
“10. Spartacus (Kirk Douglas) in Spartacus.”
Because nothing says “conservative entrepreneurship” like getting people to pay you for the privilege of watching penniless slaves fight to the death for your amusement.
I could go on, but the stupid burns too hard.
““The Gods Must be Crazy” is a conservative movie?”
Well, it was made in apartheid South Africa and while the evil terrorists are lead by a white dude, you do have to be suspicious every time a convoy full of ak-47 toting black guys shows up to kidnap the villagers and hold them hostage…
I’ve never seen one of those movies, except for “The Island” which I saw at home on a boring evening, either my son got it from someone or one of my kids rented it.
After I kept drawing similarities in the movie about the dominance of the rich over everyone else and the powerlessness and dehumanization of the common folks, my son informed me that it was supposed have some anti-abortion message.
“Yeah, whatever.” we both said.
Of course, without seeing the movies, I am pretty much aghast anyway that someone would tag conservative a movie about the history of the oppressed scots attempting regain their independence or attempting to equalize the black slavery experience in America with the cultural tradition of servitude among the Roman Empire.
Proof once again that stupid is the prime ingredient for today’s conservative.
I think they like Spartacus because they really want to be Crassus, which is hilarious to me. His speech to (and attempted seduction of) Antoninus is a high point in the movie. The oiled gladiator stuff is just gravy to them.
Wow. A new contender for wasting trees/electrons has entered the arena.
Seriously, there’s stupid; there’s boring and stupid; there’s boring, stupid and annoying; and then there’s boring, stupid annoying piled up into a steaming brown mound with a flag stuck into the top.
Damnit, I forgot about Dalton Trumbo’s involvement in _Spartacus_. I read _Johnny Got His Gun_ at an impressionable age and it scarred me in, like, a good way.
I didn’t know that a 13th century uprising of oppressed peoples against their colonial overlords represented a form of modern American conservatism in action.
Oh absolutely. A man leads a nation into war with the shout of “FREEDOM!” But his idea of freedom turns out to be serfdom under a local king, rather than that of a far off monarch.
So the people march and die for a cause that will not improve their lives, goaded on by dramatic but ultimately meaningless promise of freedom. How much more conservative can you get?
To William Wallace, the Magna Carta is just a damn piece of paper.
Wish I’d seen this more timely. All I could think of when I read the first entry about Clint Eastwood and Dirty Harry was the bit in “The Hollywood Shuffle” about how “Dirty Larry” couldn’t get his big-ass gun out fast enough. Sheeeeee-it!
These are the guys who would prefer Lee J. Cobb’s loud-mouthed juror in “Twelve Angry Men” to Henry Fonda’s calm, reasonable (and correct) one.
Okay… How much acid do I have to take to understand these rants? I found nothing resembling coherent thought , or even any stream of consciousness. Worl-o-crap-filled writing is all.

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