There can be no doubt the world has gone feminine. This has naturally affected the action arena of Hollywood, 
and film creators seem eager to fulfil more androgyne fantasies while the fans buy ticket after ticket. Where are the men? Where are the heroes who could stand with an emotionless face having taken three bullets in one leg? Are they gone? Have real muscles been silently overthrown by girlish, blond curls? The new heroes are pantsies! Men, as we remember them, are gone. (Excecpt for me and Maddox of course.)
Everything’s so fucking emotional!
When I grew up, men could stand a fist-fight for about an hour. Getting a knife in your throat was no obstacle to ensure world peace and live happily ever after (with a small lisp, of course). When I was young, men could crash their car at 90 miles per hour into brick walls that would tumble down on the burning vehicle, and they’d still get out alive without a scratch! Where are these heroes now?
.. But Stallone and Willis have finally realized that if anyone out there could be strong and manly enough to battle these evil, feminist forces, 
it had to be them. To ensure and secure the Roadmap to Mayhem they have agreed to participate in two movies that should grip the likes of Orlando Bloom by the balls, assuming they have any. We are talking about Rambo IV and Die Hard IV respectively. Finally kids can get a foothold in the emotionally unstable world of theirs where they lack the proper heroes to look up to, in ideals and heroes of real men like Stallone and Willis, and perhaps is not all hope lost after all. Will we see Die Hard spin-offs kicking Harry Potter wannabees face-down into the mud and Rambo inspired teenagers pumpin’ iron to give the wedgies to Bloom and his evil associates? We can only hope. And pump iron.
Die, Bloom, Die!!! Yippikaye, motherfucker!
Disclaimer: To all the female Bloom fans, I’d just like to say that I consider myself an Orlando look-alike from the right-angle and with the light turned off. This does not not make me a man. It’s what inside that counts.
And inside, beyond that puppy-look, I’m all muscles, baby. Yeah.