The Fast. The Furious. The Fucked.

I have learned long ago that the main reason for this blog’s continued readership is boobs, so here are some.

I have been a long-time fan of The Fast and The Furious film series.  I know what you’re thinking and yes they are all terrible movies.  But their sheer terribleness have found a place in my heart alongside cheap hookers and free beer – though not in that particular order and somewhere close to the bottom of the list of things I hold dear.

Truthfully, I’m not really sure why it is I have such an affinity for them.  Their overwhelming focus is largely about two things: cars & sex.  To be honest, I don’t give a shit about cars and though I love getting a boner as much as the next man, the frustration of having to wait until after the movie to start masturbating is sheer agony.

Be honest.  We both know it’s why you’re here.

Of course, my fascination with the film series has to stem from my months of service at the porn shoppe I worked at in Winnipeg, Manitoba.  The store – in the industrial part of town, no less – was open 24 hours.  8 of those I worked between 12 and 8 am, Friday and Saturday mornings.

Though the hours and pay were both terrible, there was something magical that would happen in those twilight hours.  Okay, not magical.  The store was a dirty shithole.

Frankly, it was one of the most boring fucking jobs I’ve ever had.  Thankfully though, there were no cameras in the store, so if you wanted to jerk off while no one was in the store, you could without having to run to the bathroom.  Just do it right there behind the counter.  Not that I would.  I am a class-act.

So many memories of that dump  Smashing fluorescent bulbs and glass bottles behind the store.  Pornoball.  The Fast and The Furious.

Have some porn star boobs.  No charge.

The thing to do, most often during those late nights, would be to watch movies.  But having the foresight of your average housefly, I would usually forget to go to the video store and pick something up.  There were exceptions, though, as I did eventually manage to fulfill my year-long quest for a Bill & Ted marathon, (which, by the way, is probably the world’s lamest idea for a movie marathon ever.)

You might be asking yourself why I wouldn’t just sit there watching porn all day.  The fact is that porn is pretty pointless once you’re done masturbating and there are only so many wonderfully weird dirty movies our store had.  My personal favourite being Cap’n Mongo’s Porno Playhouse - a film so terrifying, it should only be watched under the influence of quaaludes.

“And what’s the deal with airline food?”

So, one night at the porn store, after my good friend Doug and I realized we would have eight hours and nothing to do, we looked through a stack of video tapes out of desperation.  Somewhere near the bottom was a copy of The Fast and The Furious.  With nothing else to watch, we put it in.

Soon enough, watching The Fast and The Furious turned into a weekly ritual.  Much like Ted Nugent and Westside Connection’s Bow Down, we had taken in the film to our consciousness as part of our obsession with low culture.  So much so, we eventually wrote a book of poems commemorating our adoration of Vin Diesel’s big bald head – all of which remain unpublished to this day.

Still, as all good things must end, I left the porno shop and with it The Fast and The Furious.  So I thought it should remain until 2003 when I got word of its sequel: 2 Fast 2 Furious.  You see, as the second film in the series, they replaced words with numbers signifying its position – that upon entering the theater, you would in fact be watching PART TWO and not part one.  I can only assume it’s because the average viewer of these films is far too stupid to realize that they are viewing a sequel.

So it would continue according to the law of declining quality, hitting a stride of shittiness with the release of part 3: Tokyo Drift.  By that point I had completely forgotten the series had existed and had moved on to other things such as not paying attention to The Fast and The Furious film series.  However, my attention would be pulled back with 2009′s Fast and Furious, leaving me to muse quietly whilst smoking a cigar, “I should probably watch that…one day.“

Studies show that celebrity boobs bring in at least 95 percent more perverts.

Sadly, that day has not yet come, leaving me at odds with the soon-to-be-released Fast Five - the fifth film in the series for those still not paying attention.  Thankfully, much like their affinity for hot cars and fast women, they have not abandoned their decision to continue numbering the film series.  However, I do feel that refusing to number films 3 and 4 will lead to much confusion for future generations.  Though 3 is easy to pinpoint enough, (the one with all the Asians), given 4′s usage of all original cast members, perhaps a retroactive retitling to F4$7 4nd 4ur1ou$ 4 would not be out of the question.

Will I be there watching?  Probably not.  I would hate to break my streak of not watching any of the film’s sequels.  More to the point, I would hate to partake in the shoveling of garbage onto the public, no matter how deserving they are of it.  And while I admire suckering money out of dumb people, I feel that money should probably come from people who aren’t me.

I mean, I wouldn’t want to encourage them to make more, now would I?

Love,
Aaron