My name is Rex, and if you study with my eight-week program you will learn a system of going off sweet jumps that I learned over two seasons of fighting in the octagon. It’s called Rex Kwon Do! After one week with me in my eight-week program, you’ll be prepared to do sweet jumps with the strength of a grizzly, the reflexes of a puma, and the wisdom of a man.
If every fight looked like this I might actually pay attention to boxing. I refuse to spend forty dollars on pay-per-view to watch two overgrown men tickle each other. That’s what professional wrestling is for.
I paid to see some action. I want to see some blood and guts. I want to see the boxers turn on the ref and start beating him to a pulp after they get bored with each other. There needs to be more ear biting, crotch smashing, chest pounding action. Fighting should look more like a Black Friday sale at Walmart, and less like two men hugging out their feelings for 45 minutes. But I digress.
Our Japanese friends have once again shown us the way. They have discovered that our brain is encased in a thick layer of bone that no fist can penetrate. Which just proves that blocking is an inferior tactic. It shows weakness. Your opponent can’t crack your head open and feast on the goo inside, so there’s no reason to act like such a big sissy. Put your chin up and your dukes out. What doesn’t kill you makes for excellent television.
Ah, apartment dwelling. Everyone wants to do something, but no two people want to do the same thing. Everyone surreptitiously eats everyone else’s food, so everyone stops buying any, and eventually you order takeout for every meal. No one fights over anything important, but blood is occasionally drawn over possession of the remote. And no one can get a female of the species to stay in that apartment for more than fifteen minutes at a time after she’s seen the bathroom.
It’s the music that makes it.
Name the movie the quote in the headline’s from for additional BSBFB cred.