The fortifications on my townhome are pathetic. I tell myself dead bolting the door and leaving a light on whenever I step out are enough to ward off burglars intent on stealing my television and/ or fiancť, but who am I kidding? In lieu of a moat, I have a well-manicured path pointing thieves right to my front door. Instead of pyramid-like booby traps, I have little windows practically begging undesirables to eye my cool shit. And perhaps worst of all, Iíve wasted the funds for an elite last line of defense squadron on meaningless crap like health insurance and gas for my car. The whole thing would be more of a regrettable embarrassment were in not for the fact that most Americans are in my same boat.
Today, a remake of the Sam Peckinpah classic Straw Dogs
opens. It tells the story of a man just as woefully unprepared as I. With a hot wife and an IQ too high for his county, he should have seen the handwriting on the wall. He didnít. As a result, he and his gorgeous woman are forced to defend their abode alone. I have some confidence in his resourcefulness and intuitive defensive strategies, but Iíd have a hell of a lot more confidence in a tactical five man unit preassembled to prevent such a siege.
Jodie Foster and Kristen Stewart may have hopped into their panic room to avoid trouble, but not all of us are willing to watch from the sidelines. Some of us would rather channel our inner Ralphie Parkers, pull out Red Ryder BB Guns and start shooting thieves in the asses to prove we mean business. Iím a reasonable man. I know Iíd need help. Thatís why Iíve spent many hours poring over the following team of fictional characters Iíd bring with me to fight off the proverbial Mongols. Whether the invaders be meth addicts hellbent on using my kitchen as a laboratory, sophisticated thieves with eyes on my collection of Bobby Orr cards or a SWAT team trying to bring me in for unpaid parking tickets, my team would neutralize the opposition and send them away begging for reinforcements. Hereís who I would choose and whyÖ
Splinter From Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Thereís some confusion depending upon the source material of who exactly Splinter is. Some incarnations say he was the pet rat of ninja Hamato Yoshi, others say heís Yoshi himself. Regardless, he makes R.O.U.Sí look like little bitches. With a firm understanding of ninjutsu and plenty of wild, Mr. Brady-like sayings, heís the only rodent I would trust to orchestra our overall strategy. Plus, with years of experience making due in the sewers of New York City, Splinter could easily camouflage himself in the drainage system outside my house. Few attack forces ever expect to be surprised from the rear and even fewer expect it come from a mutated rat. He could take out fifty men with a few kicks and some well-placed gnaws, but since heís a little long in the tooth, I wouldnít put more than twenty-five men on his plate. No reason to push an old rat too hard.
Dalton From Road House
Had it not been for the last scene in Road House
, Dalton may well be revered as the greatest instrument of pain since The Rack, but no, he had to turn his back on a douche bag before he was properly subdued. Why he came to that stupid conclusion is anyoneís guess, but the good news here is I already have Splinter in my corner. Apart from Al Pacino in Any Given Sunday
, Iím not sure thereís anyone I could be more assured would put Dalton in the proper ass-whoopin frame of mind. When his head is in the right place, limbs are destined to be cracked, bad guy limbs. Some bouncers may take care of business quicker with guns or knives or threats of 911 calls, but Dalton chooses to use his feet. I like the variety he brings to the table, and short of a Dawn Of The Dead
/ Road House
mash-up film, thereís no better use of his time than protecting my fridge.
Fezzik From The Princess Bride
I know what youíre thinking. If Westley, excuse me The Man In Black, bested this beast in wrestling, why wouldnít I just choose him? Well, sometimes a fight can be won on intimidation alone. No offense to Cary Elwes, but Andre The Giant is a one man brute squad. Iím not sure a shotgun could have taken Fezzik down in his prime, and thatís the type of pure ogre scariness I need. Can you imagine breaking into a window if you saw his looming shadow behind it? Youíd be better pressed challenging a Sicilian with death on the line and starting a land war in Asia at the same time. Plus, Fezzik is a rhyming whiz. Our team synergy would benefit from that relaxed energy. Hey-O!
Wesley Allan Gibson From Wanted
Iíll admit, a large portion of me really wanted to choose Fox. As assassins and snipers, both are more than deadly enough for my purposes. Iíd station my pick on a roof a few houses down, and dozens of intruders would be gunned down before they even figured out where the hail of gunfire was coming from. It would be a sea of thwarted miscreants regardless of my choice, but ultimately, I had to choose based on sex appeal. Fox is a stunning woman, and if I know anything about Dalton, heíd definitely take a run at her. Sheíd be powerless because no woman can resist the Swayze, and for all I know, they could be ruining my bathroom when the assault came. Thatís not a risk I can willingly take with a DVD and Blu-Ray collection numbering in the three digits.
Winston Wolf From Pulp Fiction
He thinks fast, he talks fast, and when heís curt, itís only because time is a factor. I appreciate good management skills with the hired help, and I appreciate competence even more. Never has a human being been more competent than Winston Wolf. With a cup of coffee full of lots of cream and lots of sugar, he thinks through problems, takes into account mitigating factors and solves them like a motherfucker. Iím not going to lie, his contribution in the moment might be minimal, but with a world class sniper, a badass bouncer, an honest to God giant and a sage rodent already in play, Iím not overly worried about keeping people out. The Wolf will come in handy after the shootout is over. When thereís thirty-seven people with bullet holes in their skulls, teeth marks in the back of their kneecaps, hammer fist wounds to their craniums and forearm bones roundhouse kicked out of their sockets, Iím going to need someone to explain how to make the scene not look like a warzone. The Wolf would make my house look better than he found it, ready and waiting for the next crew of thieving idiots.
Disagree with my list? Think you could put up five other dudes to better prevent a Straw Dogs
situation? Sound off by doubting my choices in the comment section.