When We Pretend That We’re Dead

Don’t you just love television?

Such a broad medium. Can capitalise on anything! Death, in particular, for the subject of this conversation, is quite striking.

Dude dies.

Suddenly, Kill Bill 1 & 2 is gracing my screen.

I *feign outrage*.

Truth is, I rather like it.

All these years of action heroism being the domain of Arnie; Beefy; What’s-His-Face-O’Farrell; Ludicrously-Named-Vin Diesel. I bet all these men have hands as soft as 300 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, but it just seems right that they get these really ridiculously OTT action roles, where they massacre millions, and we never even stop to consider how outlandish it is because they are strong, hard men.

So, despite the obvious cash cow mooing in the fields of my televisual incarceration tonight, I rather enjoy seeing those same outlandish roles applied to women. Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu, Daryl Hannah, Vivica A. Fox, I SALUTE YOU. You are HARD AS!

The suspension of disbelief necessary to make female roles such as this believable requires a bit of art; but we are so used to Mel Gibson or Bruce Willis playing characters way outside the scope of their reality that we don’t even question it as being fantasy! So tonight, mysterious death in Bangkok or not, I’m indulging in a hardcore motherfucker woman fantasy of my own.

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