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Ralph Rates ‘Em
Movie Reviews by Ralph Bruin

Okay, I’ve had it with you people. I like movies. Nothing beats walking into a cool movie theater on a hot day or a warm den on a cold day and settling in for two hours or so of slam-bang entertainment. When they’re good ain’t nothing better, and when they suck I’ll tell you about it. I don’t need any help figuring out what my opinion of any given flick should be, and I sure as hell don’t need you bottom feeders casting the whatchacallums, aspersions on my personal life. That ain’t your business, bucky.

The other week I said my bit about the Fast and Furious franchise. It’s got fast cars, street races, lots of crashes and guys being guys. What’s not to like? In my opinion, the movies just got better when they added the Rock. I stand by what I said in that review: in a perfect world, all movies would have the Rock in them. So what if he can’t act? Neither can Arnie. He’s there to be Mr. Macho Alpha Guy, and he’s damn good at it.

But some of you overeducated overthinkers hadda go and write me letters about what you thought I was really saying. Let me tell you, you’re a bunch of sickos with too much time on your hands.

First off, I do know the man’s name. I know he’s Dwayne la-de-dah Johnson now. That’s just for the movies. He’s still the Rock, the Most Electrifying Man in Sports Entertainment. I’m talking from personal experience here. I went to one of the WWE’s stadium shows back in the day, and I’m telling you, my armpit hair stood on end, that’s how charged up it got in there when the Rock came down to the ring. I hate to burst your bubble, all you whiny little Hogan fans, but the Rock is the greatest wrestler who ever lived. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you people think, you damn jabronies.

As for you, Mr. L. B. and your pervy mind, and you, “Lorelei,” if that is your real name, let me make this nice and clear in short words so you can get it through your heads. I AM NOT GAY FOR THE ROCK. The man’s a helluvan entertainer and a helluva performer in the squared circle and I admire him for what he brings to the table and THAT’S IT. END OF DISCUSSION. If I had the chance I’d shake his hand and NOTHING ELSE. You got that, Mr. L. B. who didn’t even have the guts to sign your full name? You should be writing smut books, your brain is so twisted.

Anyway, you’re ignoring the real star of these flicks, Vin Diesel. Why don’t you pair me up with him while you’re at it? Dude’s got more testosterone per square inch than any given NFL team, and yeah, that includes the Denver Broncos. You want to drool in your Cheerios over him, be my guest. I just like watching movies where the men act like men and not like wishy-washy asshats afraid to say boo because somebody might get their diapers in a twist. C’mon. If a zombie army came shambling into your trailer park, Mr. L. B. anonymous pervert, who’d you want watching your back, Johnny Depp or the Rock? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

So, to recap my review: go watch the whole Fast and Furious series and see if I’m not right about it. Except for Tokyo Drift, because Vin Diesel wasn’t in that one and anyway it sucked. I mean, jeez. You got Vin Diesel for starters, and then the Rock’s in 5 and 6. Plus all the action and the car crashes. If that’s not good enough, then there’s just no hope for you.

And the next time you want to make guesses about my personal life, don’t. I like chicks, Lorelei, and I’d be more than happy to prove it to you. Bring a bottle of Manischewitz. As for the rest of you, keep your damn opinions to yourselves or else get your own damn review column. Next you’ll be trying to tell me wrestling isn’t real.

# # #

“Oh dear dog,” Nick groaned. “There’s no way I’m running this. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“It’s his opinion,” Ziva said. “That’s what we’re paying him to write. Anyway, he’s got a following. Small, but vocal. And occasionally he even reviews a movie.”

“The Fast and Furious series is up to six now? Did I miss when the apocalypse happened?”

“I agree with his assessment of Vin Diesel.” Ziva licked her lips. That prompted a growl out of Nick. Ziva snickered. “Just run the usual disclaimer. ‘The opinions of this columnist do not necessarily reflect those of the Editorial Department.’ Next week he’ll have his back up over something else and he’ll have forgotten all about this.”

“As long as nobody tries to convince him pro wrestling’s fake. I mean, of course it is, everybody knows that. Maybe somebody should warn him. Do a pre-emptive strike.. Ziva, sweetheart … ”

“If you want to keep your alpha status, you’ll end that sentence right there.”

“Yes, darling.”