Thursday, December 27, 2007


Sex and violence
I'm a Bourne again fan. But first let me say: I hate Matt Damon. As one of the entertainment industry's most virulent critics of the Iraq war & the Bush administration, I loathe him on principle. Anyhow, nephew recently went on his O.E. and left tons of his stuff in storage at my house, including his DVDs. I'm overjoyed as I've boycotted Tinseltown since the war began, yet have never lost my love for Hollywood movies. Now I can enjoy the fruits of those treasonous liberal film stars without giving them a dime. Yay! I get to eat my cake and boycott it, too. And so it is that I finally got to watch Mr Damon star in the Bourne trilogy. It pains me to admit it, but I loved them!

Digressing slightly, Matt was voted sexiest man of 2007 by People magazine. Oh, barf!! Are you freakin' kidding me? Has global warming melted women's brains rendering them incapable of aesthetic judgments? On what planet could Matt Damon be considered sexy? All I see is a set of horse teeth, sunken hollow zombie eyes and a HUMONGOUS forehead - so huge it can only be filmed using a wide-angle lens. The boy looks like the ugly offspring of Frankenstein's monster. One must conclude that the editor of People mag is actually Matt's mum who rigged the voting to rebuild his self-esteem after a lifetime of teasing about that GINORMOUS brow.

Still, looks aint everything. And in the Bourne movies, Mr Easter Island-head has multiple breath-taking fight scenes. Maybe it's coz I'm a boy (and we're from Mars), or maybe coz I'm a Maori (and we're native savages) but I always thrill to onscreen fighting. Where others see only mindless violence, I find athleticism and artistry. And yes, even sexiness: anyone who can beat the crap out of bad guys using a rolled-up magazine is pretty darn sexy, alright. I nearly wore out my rewind button rewatching him butt-kicking the guards in the American embassy. Mmm-mm-mm. Sexy indeed!

And tough! The boy is near indestructible. Surviving car crashes, gunshot wounds, falling from roof tops and exploding bombs, he brushes asides these mere hindrances and soldiers resolutely on. Equally impressive is his miraculously healing face. Despite repeated blows to the head (and let's face it, with a forehead that size, it'd be pretty hard to miss - you could strike in any direction and not help but make contact) he emerges from every confrontation with nary a scratch.

Ahh, how heartwarming it is to watch my beloved Americans trounce and outsmart the Euro-villains, especially in their own backyard. Speaking of which, doesn't Europe have some magnificent architecture? Soaring, imposing edifices where one feels both glory and grandeur, mankind's spiritual yearning for perfection and beauty. Such a divine backdrop for non-stop carnage and mayhem.

But for all the hyper-caffeinated action, the Bourne movies are not without their tender spots. Several moments bristle with romantic chemistry and sexual tension. Who can forget his memorable line to Nicky, the beautiful CIA operative: "You'll answer my questions, or by God, I swear I'm gonna kill you." Spoken like a true ladies' man. Are you swooning yet, girls?

Yet despite many challenges, both amorous and hostile, never does Matt break down crying. Thank goodness. I hate blubbering boys. For us blokes, there's only two scenarios were sobbing is permissible: funerals and weddings. So if tears start welling up in public, there'd best be a priest looming somewhere in the background or look out, I'll give you something to cry about [boof!! bang!! bash!! - with my rolled-up copy of People magazine]. Otherwise, under no circumstances should any man be caught weeping, much less have such indignity captured on film. Well... unless you're Jack on LOST (who's so purty, he can pretty well do what he likes) or Chuck Norris (since no one's brave enough - or stupid enough - to dare criticise anything he says or does).

So in conclusion, I may have misjudged Matt. He mightn't have a cute face (or in his case, a cute 'FAAAAAACE' - given the enormous distance between his hairline & eyebrows) but he's definitely a mucho macho man. Hence his appeal. If I ever have a gay affair, it'll be with a dude like Matt who can beat, kick, and smash me up as a prelude to intimacy. We'll bond through aggression and punches - fisticuffs as foreplay. Don't worry, we won't lock lips [eww, yuck! That's just perverted!] except for the odd 'Liverpool kiss'. Yup, my boyfriend won't be no Hollywood hottie, but a Tinseltown tough-guy. Someone butch and mean who can kick (rather than kiss) my ass. Someone like Matt, who - on second thoughts - I declare to be the sexiest man of 2007.

That is, unless Chuck Norris says otherwise.

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