Flock of Seagals

Okay..so, much like the killer dolly, Chucky of the "Child's Play" and well... "Chucky" horror movie franchise, I love Steven Seagal. This may speak volumes about my personal movie taste, but someone should clone the man and freeze him in a cryogenic chamber so that future generations will never suffer the folly of a world deprived of new Steven Seagal films. "Out For Justice" is one of my favorite movies of all time...not because it is a great cinematic achievement, but because it is the exact opposite...a Three Stooges-like spoof of the Dirty Harry series as realized by "Godfather Of Gore" Herschell Gordon Lewis.

Steven Seagal brings me great joy for all of the wrong reasons. To quote a description I recently came upon in my Dictionary of Slang and Euphemism, the man "simultaneously repulses and fascinates" me. In the land of the two-eyed schlock fan (i.e. me), Seagal is king. Recently I have been dipping my toe into the most recent cesspool of Mr. Seagal's work...the action-packed adventures of the puffy-faced, bloated, bitter, older...and none-the-wiser master of splitting peoples' skulls open and impaling them on any sharp object available. Only last week my Morticia suggested I take a gander at "Belly Of The Beast"..a more recent Seagal monstrosity in which my personal hero flies through the air in slow motion for five minute intervals firing up to five million rounds of bullets at a time before hitting the ground, or in some cases landing on things such as a railroad handcart (which rolls for five more minutes in slow motion allowing the Seagal to unload two million more rounds of bullets into his oncoming enemies) like some over-the-hill cross breeding of Peter Pan and...well, Steven Seagal. In this magical adventure Mr. Seagal not only beats the living shit out of numerous Kung Fu experts half his age (who fly through the air on wires whenever he kicks them) but also hooks up with a twenty-something Thai (ex)prostitute...who...I guess..becomes his girlfriend(?!). It's all very hilarious and deeply disturbing and just plain wrong...which, of course, makes it just plain "right" in my book.

This baby runs neck and neck against another recent "Seagal"..(drum roll).."Urban Justice", in which the puffy-faced superman wages war on an urban neighborhood ravaged by drug-pedaling gang bangers twenty, if not thirty years his junior and beats the living fuck out of everyone in sight. Yes siree, the Paul Bunyan-like geriatric action hero gives no quarter in this epic as he spouts his lines in what could only be described as an impression of Dolemite meets Richard Pryor as performed by James Gandolfini. "Who kilt my son, mutha fuckah?" Who "kilt" him indeed! You go giganticus! Beat the living shit out of everyone on Earth, Seagal! I cannot get enough! The more violent and absurd the man gets, the more I love him. Seagal is my GOD! I only wish I could write a screenplay for Steven Seagal. You may think I am being sarcastic, but I can assure you that is not the case. In fact, I should be his on-call scenarist and script consultant...I would do him justice..."Urban"...or "Out For"...I would do the Seagal right. Call me what you will..but I am a Seagal junkie. Oddly enough a momentous achievement in my life would be writing a screenplay for a Steven Seagal movie...perhaps Morticia and I can collaborate on a storyline and pitch...she likes the Seagal for all the wrong reasons that I do...together we may craft the ultimate Steven Seagal masterpiece. Dare to dream....