Someone explain Kung Fu movies to me. Go on, I’m listening. I’ve been sitting here on the couch for the last hour and a half, watching this ridiculous movie (which does explain a lot about “Kill Bill” to me, which is good)(hey, hey, I liked Kill Bill. It had a plot and good tunes and action and women. Tarantino took all the good bits out of martial arts movies [whoa, it’s a good thing I don’t have a very large readership or someone would be at my door right now with a giant martial arts stick] and made it, y’know, interesting.) and I am led to believe it’s not a one-off. It’s a whole genre!
So there’s these guys, right? They all want to beat each other up for some reason. They are using the martial art of Kung Fu. They try different styles to defeat one another. All the styles have animal names. A lot of the dubbed voices sound like Monty Python.
I know. If you buy the “4 DVDs for $6.99!” at Army and Navy, you’re going to get very bad movies. But I have no reason to believe that more expensive Kung Fu has better plot lines. I guess it’s like porn. You’re not there for the plot lines.
Speaking of pimps, if you need the magic stick for your halloween costume, you can go to Value Village. Or you can go here.
Tomorrow the First Ministers, sans Mr. Klein, are going to stuff themselves with bonbons and discuss the state of Canada’s health care system.
Prime Minister Paul Martin: “(flying fist noise) Shwa shwa! Your national pharmacare style is no match for my laissez-faire style!”
Premier Gordo Campbell: Attempting kick to PM’s gut, “I will defeat you with my drunken monkey style!”
From behind the velvet curtain in the banquet room, a banshee’s wail. Suddenly, swinging on the curtain pull, enters Former & Favoured Prime Minister, Uncle “Jean Jean” Chretien.
“You both have no idea how powerful it is!” he shouts cryptically, waving his gnarled fist.
Martin and Campbell race to attack (both thought he was long dead, gone to his peppery castle in the sky); Martin in the lead, Campbell falling on his face, having tripped over his own clumsily tied shoelaces.
“Feel my fingers in your heart, old man!” screams Martin and indeed, his powerful, medicared hand thrusts like a knife into Jean Jean’s ribcage.
“Whaaaaaaaaaa,” wails Jean Jean. He falls to the ground and writhes for several heartwrenching minutes while the first ministers look on.
“Truly, it is my turn,” says Martin, withdrawing his hand and wiping it across his brow. The blood glistens, victorious. “Truly, I have earned the title of Master.”
All can only nod assent. Who would argue with such a powerful leader?
Credit to saint aardvark for the kung fu/Martin/Chretien battle idea. And for making me watch bad movies. And for the chocolate chip cookies. Damn, the ‘vark makes a fine chocolate chip cookie!