Warrior Vixens in Leather

I've been writing this weekend. And when I need a break I've been watching a movie.

Hollywood loves hybrid movies ... the Action-Adventure and the Romantic-Comedy.

And then there's my favorite hybrid ... the Action-Melodrama-Comedy-Gay Soft Porno.

One of my first favorites of this genre was Beastmaster.

Oh, Marc Singer. You sultry stud, you. I was 13 years old when this film was released in 1982. And I can't tell you how many nights I ... uh ... nevermind. You don't want to know.



Then came Gladiator.

Sweat, leather, muscle and terrible, terrible acting ...

what's not to love?



And now there's Troy ...

2 hours and 42 minutes of glorious man candy and magnificently bad dialog.

Oh he tries to hide it. But I know Brad's never gotten over me.

It's OK, Brad. Life goes on. I give you my blessing to fuck Angelina Jolie on one condition ... that the two of you make beautiful gay boys.

If you get started now, they'll be old enough to keep me company when I'm collecting what's left of my Social Security benefits.






At any moment in the film, I keep expecting Orlando Bloom to burst out with "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"

There, there. Don't worry your pretty little head. I know you're trying. It's OK. I know. Acting is hard. So very, very hard.











And then there's Eric Bana. This man should be prohibited by law from ever wearing clothes.





"All my life I've lived by a code,
and the code is simple.
Honor the Gods.
Love Thy woman.
And defend Thy country."

Who writes this crap?

And please, please, please let them never stop.