No. I don't think that's extreme at all.

Going undercover seems like it would be pretty f--king great. Honestly.

Infiltrating some nefarious organization with the hopes of blowing it to Hell from the inside out, would be like, the coolest shit ever. Yeah, it would suck when I'd inevitably end up balls deep, Donnie Brasco-style, and unable to turn off the charade, likely disappearing into the requisite facial hair forever.

But as much as losing everything in my real life would bother me, what would really keep me up at night?

All the goddamn studying. You gotta know f--king everything.



After a relatively compelling preview, I schemed out quite the f--king elaborate plan to catch an opening-day matinee of American Assassin. And after I had arranged all the fringe players (uh, my mom...and my wife, to a degree), clearly defined their roles in the covert operation, I made the soul-crushing mistake of doing a little extra reconnaissance. And by that, clearly I mean I skimmed the early, mostly shit-tastic reviews. 

While I was convinced that no film starring Michael Keaton as a military hardass could be anything less than f--king brilliant, trust me when I say this movie basically sucks. It has all the components to be a competent revenge thriller, but unless you're a thirteen year-old girl (who has never been to the movies), the only thing American Assassin kills is about two hours of your life. Good thing on that day...I had nothing but time.

Though it seems in (extra) poor taste in light of current events, the film opens with a lovely young couple enjoying a vacation at a picturesque beach resort. The dude, Mitch, proposes to his impossibly sexy girlfriend...moments before some terrorist motherf--kers show up and start indiscriminately gunning people down. Mitch gets hit, but he's going to make it. The love of his life? Uh, no. She's gone. And when we next see Mitch eighteen months later, he is too. Instead of that romantic goofball on the beach, he's basically become the f--king Terminator, training to kill anybody and everybody that had a hand in the death of his woman. Aww.


At this point, even the combination of piss-poor reviews and the low-rent digs of the Hunt Valley Regal Cinemas couldn't dampen my enthusiasm, and I was still leaning forward. Mitch is this quiet f--king badass, being overly aggressive in all facets of his training (like, we're just short of bare-knuckle fighting a dinosaur). But Mitch's plan gets the ol' kibosh, and he's recruited by the government (his numbers, unsurprisingly, are off the charts!) the plot became more tactical mission and less balls-out revenge. Lame. It's like if Liam Neeson hung up that phone in Taken...and called the actual police.

Excuse me, mister. Can I mow your lawn? No. Wash your car? No. Walk your dog? No.
Could I help you kill some f--ker you trained a few years ago, but now who's gone rogue and wants to blow up...the ocean?
No. Wait. Sure, kid.

Look, we've all seen this movie before, and it's not the worst thing in the world to give this same ol' story another go with some younger dude (I don't know who this O'Brien dude is because, you know, I have a dick), but this one simply doesn't work. The kid is solid, and Keaton has at least one part that's f--king great, but I'd rather retinal scan my butt-hole than be forced to see this one again.

On that horrible note, here are the Yays and Boos for a movie that I saw almost a month ago. I'm trying to catch up, but the only thing worse than this movie, would be the professional life of the asshole writing the review of it.

Instead of a gun, I feel like he should be holding a paddle.
Or a bike pump.

Yaaaaaa...

...aaaaaaay!

• His (ex?) fiancee was/is super hot. Oh, and I'm pretty sure he only recorded her boobs during that proposal.
• Hey, Mitch. Got any goals? Have my enemies lay awake at night knowing I'm coming for them. Thanks!
• Lesson one at Camp Hardass? How to stab a man in his windpipe. 
• Okay, I know he's the Kitsch of Death for box-office returns, but he's also Tim Riggins for f--k's sake. 
• Mitch! MITCH! He's already dead. But, hey, don't mind me. Keep stabbing him.
• Man, I thought I was a tough teacher. Keaton catches Mitch watching a video of his dead fiancee and literally chokes him out the cord powering said video. 
• Speaking of, Keaton, er, Stan Hurley? He's basically Mr. Miyagi. You know, assuming Daniel-san was planning on crane-kicking Osama bin Laden.
• I don't even know who Other Guy was, but I appreciated the fact that his inclusion on a secret mission clearly meant that someone was going to die. 
• There's a dog-escape scene that nothing short of remarkably terrible. It's inclusion in the Yays? It reminded me of that video where Michael Jackson rubs up on his junk before turning into a f--king panther.
• Yo, that Agent Girl was all kinds of sexy. If only she had a thing for Mitch...
• Oh my goodness, the other agents? F--king hysterical. Where's THAT phone, agent? Uh, sorry boss. Mitch took her purse.
• Fingernails. Fingernails. Fingernails. I GOT NINE MORE! (this shit made me wince)
• And finally, as lame as this movie was? That explosion at the end was cool as Hell. Still not sure it makes any damn sense...but it looked pretty f--king rad.

Nothing suspicious about not reacting to a giant explosion.

Boooooooooo...

...oooooooo!

• Ugh, What the Hell was with that recruitment video? 
• If 'jihad' was a category on Jeopardy!, f--king Mitch is gonna run that f--ker, five-for-five. But...do you really have know that much shit? These terrorist a-holes really love the pop quizzes, apparently.
• Here's a first: the usher came in and basically yelled, STAY OFF YOUR PHONES! Um...okay. There were only five people in the theater, bub. You can just say that shit.
• Any time things get serious...it's silly.
• What the f--k is this VR training room? We've got a whole bunch of dickheads shooting holograms until they throw up. It's basically a high-tech/extra lame version of Chuck E. Cheese.
• But worse? I'm pretty sure they also practice missions in the busiest IKEA ever. Look out for the ARHOLMA, Mitch!
• Is there any other kind of plutonium other than weapon's grade? Can you buy that shit in regular?
• Keaton grabs a dude in broad daylight and no one notices shit. At that rate, he might as well have been wearing the f--king Batsuit. Or the Beetlejuice pants....
• I'm pretty sure we were treated to random bare breasts. The boo? I'm pretty sure.
• Hmm, what's that series of photographs she's looking at. Oh, right. It's the NUCLEAR PHYSICIST WATCH LIST. Phew. Good thing there's a giant title on her secret tablet, even if that somehow seems, well, less than secret. (Bonus turd points are awarded because the guy playing the physicist looks just like the FRUMPY PROFESSOR costume you're considering for Halloween)
• I hope I heard this wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the demand's are for two million dollars. U.S. Huh? Does this take place in 1982? Two million? Do you want check, or can I get you a money order?
• This should be a Yay, but no lie, Kitsch totally Super Mario's out of a building. No lie. He jumps to a f--king flagpole. Sorry, dude. You're princess is in another shitty movie.
• I hate when someone is being interrogated and they ain't given any time to answer. Like, I'd answer your goddamn question...if you'd give me a f--king chance to.
• The speedboat...goes speeding by...yet Mitch still ends up running it down. Um, no.
• Wait? His plan is to destroy naval warships? Really? With a nuke? It would make more sense if he spent the whole film recruiting Godzilla instead.
• And finally, as cool as that explosion was, everybody seems pretty chill that all that happened was a massive wave generated by a nuclear explosion. Except that the fact that they were only like three miles from the f--king coastline! Should we really be shaking hands now that a million people have just been devastated by a f--king tidal wave?

It's funny, in the crime-riddled world of f--k ups and low-lifes, undercover agents have to be able to answer any question anybody asks of them. One wrong answer, Hell, one hesitation, and somebody blows your brains all over the rear window of your rent-a-car. Imagine the pressure.

Me? I've got a job: middle school teacher. And I've been at it for over a decade, you know? But ask me a basic question about doing it well and I'm likely to have no f--king clue whatsoever. Does that mean I'm a fraud? A filthy f--king impostor? No/

It just means I'm a moron. 

And I'd probably welcome that bullet.