Magic Mike himself, big badass Channing Tatum, stars as a Capitol policeman and would-be Secret Service agent who gets his chance to play at the real thing when he and his daughter (Joey King) tour the White House on precisely the day real-life Obama disser James Woods, the devious head of White House security, plans to stage a coup d’etat to unseat President Django, played by Jamie Foxx.
It is appropriate that the opening credits acknowledge a company called Mythology with this lightweight production, considering how White House Down is nothing if not an encapsulation of liberals’ mythologized view of an idealized President B.O., the scholarly man of peace who could solve all of America’s problems if only given enough cooperation and tax revenue. President Django, suitably enough, makes His first appearance in a three-helicopter formation symbolizing the Trinity of His Godhead.
The film follows the basic template of the
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Well fock, I really don’t know what to say. I just got up and only had 3 hours of sleep. I’m doing OK but I suppose I should pound out a post quickly before fatigue catches up to me.
You know, not much exciting has ever happened to me in my life. I was going to say nothing exciting has happened to me in the past 15-20 years, but it would be more fair and accurate to say nothing exciting has really happened to me ever. I think something finally will happen that I’d consider exciting when I finally move out of state and in with my honey in the next few months, but aside from that my life has been uniformally uneventful. I suppose I’ve had a few sexual adventures, but I’m not a negro so I’m pretty cautious concerning who I get involved with so I’ve not screwed quite as many women as you may assume. I have friends who have fucked so many different women that I’m sure the experiences are no more memorable to them than taking a leak. I imagine this may have created drama in their lives, but hey, way I figure it anyone that reckless and promiscuous is obviously not bothered by a lot of unpredictable, mindless excitement. I know it would torture me unto madness. Angry women are possibly the most dangerous enemies you can have. I’ve heard lots of unsettling stories about what scorned women have done to men they feel took their affections and attention lightly. Everything from sending a bunch of big, mean guys over to visit them in the middle of the night, false rape accusations, vandalism, poisoning, even cutting their dicks off and running it through a garbage disposal. All pretty scary stuff, and this is only an abbreviated list of all the things I have heard and read. As far as I know none of the more extreme items on that list has ever happened to any of my male acquaintances, at least they haven’t told me if they have. I also don’t know how many times any of them has contracted any of the various forms of V.D. out there. That there is also some pretty scary shit.
Personally I’ve never been worried about AIDS since I don’t have homosexual sex and I certainly don’t fuck women in the ass as I feel the intended orifice feels more than wonderful enough for me, thank you very much, nor do I have rough sex all night long with strange women. AIDS would be a pretty fucked up thing to get, but some of the other diseases, although they may not kill you, would be horribly gruesome to get as well and would mess you up for the rest of your life. Can you even imagine having unsightly warts on your genitals, or open sores? Disgusting. Who would even want you, except maybe someone else with the same thing? Also if you ever had kids they would be born with it too, unless, possibly, they were born via Caesarean section, but I’m not entirely sure about that. Actually, what brought the whole topic up concerning my boring life is I found myself last night dwelling on something I remember about Anne, and when I thought of writing about it I told myself, “Why are you still flogging that long dead horse? The last time you even spoke to her was over the internet and it was five or six years ago! Don’t you have anything more interesting and contemporary to share with people?”. Well, possibly I may if I thought hard and long enough about it, but you know one of the intrinsic peculiarities of most human minds is that unless there is something like hunger, pain or sexual arousal demanding that we alleviate it, our thoughts are generally unfocused and floating all over the place, if we are even inclined to think at all.
At any rate, last night the thought seriously occurred to me that maybe Anne was lying about her getting herpes. Perhaps since she completed her assignment, had been paid off, and it looked to all concerned that I was spiralling down in flames towards infamy and oblivion that she felt it would be in her best interest to cut me loose. I think not long after that she started seeing someone seriously. I saw them kissing goodbye once when I dropped by to visit her the last time I saw her. She never kissed me goodbye. Some blond preppy looking jock guy, country club/tennis player type. I heard Anne was really into tennis. I dunno. If she did have herpes I don’t think Mr. Trust Fund would be fooling around with her, but again I know from personal experience with her that she isn’t fanatically honest.
You may wonder why she would invent a story that ended in her contracting herpes just to get rid of me, I mean, that’s pretty extreme and it would be very embarrassing if it ever got out. Well, remember that I wasn’t keeping any of my blogs back then and she thought that either my days were numbered or that I would be living out the rest of my life on the street and in homeless shelters, so maybe she honestly didn’t think I’d ever get an opportunity to tell anyone who could in turn spread the information into her circle.
Hell. I don’t fucking know.
SAMSON POLLEN (American, 20th Century). The Friendly Stripper, | LotID #19002 | Heritage Auctions