This is Christmas music, jerk-off

Here is how I choose friends around the holiday season: I always keep a copy of Run DMC's "Christmas in Hollis" in my car when interviewing for a new friend. Basically, I pop in the disc in my car, and if the person then asks me, "Don't you have any Christmas music?", and I reply "This is Christmas music," and then we high five or something - then this person is worthy of my friendship.

I have pretty much always chosen my friends via checklist. I have things that I like - movies, sports, etc - and if people I meet don't like these things, then screw them. Seriously, I hope they get e.coli or something. I once broke up with a girl because she had never seen "Ghostbusters." When my buddy asked why I broke up with I said, "She is a dog" and we laughed and laughed - and then I called my ex up and told her that and I laughed some more, mainly because she didn't get the "Ghostbusters" reference. Her developing an eating disorder was not so funny, but I still think it was worth it.

Office Romance = EPIC Fail

Here's the thing. We all know that a little eye candy around the workplace will make the day go faster. A cute coworker in the cubicle next door will guarantee that you always bring your A game to the office, and as a result your performance will likely improve. But only your WORK performance. The day you start thinking with the man downstairs is the day you abandon any sense of right and wrong.

Take Harry Ellis. Crank snorting and bad jokes aside, he seems to be pretty good at his job. I mean I don't know anybody ELSE who negotiates million dollar deals for breakfast. But apparently that's not enough. He decides to spend any free time around the Nakatomi building by attempting to court his married, mildly attractive superior.

Coincidentally enough, MY office just had me complete a(nother) online course about business ethics. I know things are a little different out in LA, but here in THIS neck of the woods, personal gifts are never a good idea. Good thing, too, because I can't afford to pay for sex with fancy watches.

I'm not too ashamed to admit that I've dipped my pen in the company ink once or twice, and while it's never ended well, at least I never got shot in the face.

Murdering people is okay, provided you inscribe a Christmas joke on the corpse

I have never murdered anyone, nor do I plan to. I fall into the Seinfeld category, where if I really, really hated someone, I would opt for years of subtle mind games on the victim. Insanity trumps lack of breathing. Still, if an intruder ever barged into my house (god forbid) and I was forced to defend my keep against the hostiles, I would certainly need to finish my self defense spree with a little humor to keep my own sanity. (Like that? In the literary world we call that "coming full circle").

When McClane kills the blond terrorist from a workout video, he scribbled "Ho, Ho, Ho" on his lifeless corpse. Bloody brilliant. Helps McClane keep a level head. I mean, he just killed a man, right? He just saved himself 30 years of therapy bills with a little holiday humor. I have decided that if an intruder enters my home and I shoot him up to kingdom come, I really hope it is around a holiday, such as Easter. Then I can write, "Only one person rose from the dead at this time of year" or something like that. Then me and the cops will have a good laugh.

Always Have an Exit Strategy

Whether you're going to war with a foreign country, hooking up with a girl you probably won't respect in the morning, or knocking over an LA high rise with a team of anonymous henchman, it's ALWAYS a good idea to have a way out.

Hans Gruber's plan to flee the scene of the crime was both brilliant in nature and incredibly short-sided. Let's imagine for a moment, that everything goes according to plan. They jack the vault, blow the roof, and make their getaway in the ambulance stashed away in the back of their cargo truck. Genius, really, unless you're one of Gruber's gunmen. I can't believe that during the ride to Nakatomi, when Gruber's crew was crammed into the truck with said ambulance, not a one of them thought to ask: "How the hell are we all going to fit in this thing?" I mean how many bodies does your typical ambulance hold? Six, maybe? And how many terrorists were there? That's right - TWICE that many.

If I know Gruber like I think I do, he was well aware of this. He doesn't seem like the type to watch his henchmen pile into a tiny ambulance like it's some sort of clown car or Mexican transport. No, it's my contention that Hans KNEW his numbers would be thinned by the end of the night, and he wasn't planning on bringing the whole gang with him on the way out. So it's actually a good thing McClane started picking off terrorists one at a time. Each one of Gruber's men that bit the dust was a bigger cut of money for the rest of them, and one less he'd have to send up to the roof before it went bang.

Sometimes I wonder how Die Hard 2 would have been different if Gruber and a few of his boys had successfully executed their escape plan. Nothing against Colonel Stewart and his gang of Mercs, but a second round of Gruber vs. McClane would have been AWESOME.

Organization is the key

You would think a boozehound that is behind on child support doesn't have his shit together, but McClane proves that alcoholic, deadbeat dads can have a clear head that is ready to function. McClane needs to remember names and number of terrorists, so he writes that shit on his arm. Nice thinking, John-Boy. What the camera didn't show you was the names of McClane's kids scribbled on his other arm. Those are a little difficult to remember.

For Emergency Use Only

It's hard to imagine, some two decades removed, that Die Hard is an 80's film. Director-extraordinaire John McTiernan has a way of making his films immune to aging with a minimal amount of bad music, outrageous costumes, and crazy hair. Sure, there's some Run-DMC and a pair of leather pants, but it doesn't have the same "HEY, DON'T FORGET THIS IS AN EIGHTIES FILM" theme music as, say, Beverly Hills Cop.

With this in mind, think how bored McClane must have been while NOT gunning down Terrorists. Granted, the whole thing takes place in the course of a single evening, but nobody of today's generation has the patience to sit still for longer than a couple of minutes. And again, this is in an era before cell phones, Facebook, Twitter, and internet porn. THIS is why McClane smokes. I mean what the hell ELSE is he going to do? When *I* have some down time between death-defying shootouts and fist fights, I like to keep in touch with the outside world. A text here, an online quiz there, whatever makes the time go faster.

In 1988, McClane's walkie-talkie was as close as the world had come to a Blackberry or iPhone. So what does he do? He uses it to keep himself occupied. Nevermind clearing the airwaves for official police business; when Johnny Mac has something on his mind, the boys downstairs are going to hear about it. Between passing on love letters to his wife and making play dates for his children, there's plenty to keep him entertained. Want to talk about Twinkies with the big black man outside? Yep, there's an app for that.

Where McClain and I finally disagree

I have learned a lot from McClane, so when I decided to ignore the blog for a while after I got back from Rome I thought it would be awesome. You know, like how McClane ignores his kids. Sure, he carried around pics of his little tikes in his wallet and smiled wistfully at them from time to time, but that doesn't really substitute for a simple phone call. In his defense, their non-English speaking housekeeper was probably confused every time a drunk loose cannon called and sputtered non-nonsensical cop jargon into the phone.

Either way, I am back now. I feel like the cop that got his badge taken away, suspended from the force, but then got the bad guy playing by his own rules. Then the captain would shake my hand and say, "Your methods may have been unorthodox, but welcome back to the team. I am promoting you to senior detective." A triumphant return - that is me. Except when I slam down my badge in the name of what is right, it is a plastic badge I bought at the Halloween store at the mall and the police chief is my dog, Barney. Man, I am so lonely.

Shut It Down. Shut It Down, Now.

First of all, it's important to note that any man who works in a sewer is not competent enough to ask for identification when you need a power grid shut down. Remember that, kids. When FBI agents Johnson and Johnson have run out of cards to play against Hans Gruber and his gang of merry men, they decide to take it up a notch - by shutting off the power.

When I first saw this movie as a kid, I didn't get it. I mean I was WAY too old to be afraid of the dark. Aside from the fact that the power play (no pun intended) was an essential part of Gruber's plan, I didn't understand what it was supposed to accomplish. Where the terrorists supposed to throw their hands up and surrender because things in Nakatomi just got slightly darker?

But now I think I understand a little more clearly. Power outages are annoying as hell. You can't watch TV, you can't listen to your boom box, and you can't update your status on Facebook. It might not be life-threatening on the surface, but if you have milk or dairy in your fridge, it can indeed turn out to be a very dangerous game. Plus, have you ever had to take a piss in the dark? It's a mess.

So take this for what it's worth. One of my buddies has had my first season of 24 for several months, and I want it back - but I'm too much of a sissy to confront him face-to-face. But that doesn't mean I won't get it back. I drive through his neighborhood every day, just waiting for the afternoon when there's an inept maintenance man peeking out of a manhole. Once the power is out at Henry's house, I know his immediate safety won't be threatened, but I know he won't be watching my DVD, either.

Leadership qualities are a must in any job

Hans Gruber probably has an awesome resume. Well, he would have if he hadn't fallen off a building. He was able to successfully round up dozens of drunk hostages, extract billions of dollars worth of shit from a safe, and coordinate and lead many terrorists from different ethnicities and backgrounds. All while sitting from a desk. His undoing was incompetence that he could not control - one American cowboy running amuk while his idiot subordinates couldn't shoot him even when they had two minutes to line up a shot on a roof. Hans has to take shit into his OWN hands by making sure explosives were properly wired and packing up the goods after his associates get gunned down.

That type of initiative shows drive and leadership qualities, all good things to highlight on a resume. I don't have any hostage-taking experience so I have no idea what to put on my resume as far as leadership is concerned. The best I came up with was I am a level 80 Blood Elf Mage that once led a successful raid on a troll brigade in the dark realms of Elwynn Forest. My team put their lives in my hands and I did not disappoint.

One Asian Henchman is as Good as any 10 Germans

First of all, I am of German descent so don't get all pissy. But anybody who's seen Die Hard will be hard pressed to argue with the facts. For his hostile takeover of Nakatomi Tower, Hans Gruber seems to have assembled a virtual who's who of Eurotrash criminals, so the two that stand out the most are Theo, the black guy, and Uli, the Asian. Intentionally or not, the two guys not of European descent are the two guys that Hans needs most. Theo is instrumental to Hans' mission, and to prove he's much more than just the token black guy (that would be Argyle), he also wears glasses. That said, he also spends most of the movie in the same chair.

Then there's Uli. Hans' fu mancho sporting henchman is literally everywhere during the siege, from the roof to the lobby, to the stairway in between. At first, it seems his only job is to help plant C4 up on the roof, which of course is a major part of the plan. He's also seen on the 30th floor from time to time, helping to guard the hostages. So right there, he's already earning his cut of the loot. But then Hans' men start dying and Uli's responsibilities multiply. Between winging a platoon of SWAT officers on the building's front step, and escorting 30 hostages to the roof all by his lonesome, Hans Gruber would have been screwed without Uli. Even Karl, his official #2, must have been jealous.

Successful Women Make Terrible Wives

Don't get me wrong. I'm all about women in the workplace. There are plenty of women around my office, and I couldn't be happier. I mean the more they do, the less I have to. Let's face it, this isn't the 1950's anymore, and there's something exceedingly sexy about a professional woman who can carry her own weight. I, for one, don't have the patience to be any kind of breadwinner, and would not be intimidated in the least by a lady who brings home the bacon. As long as she's hot.

So let's look at the female protagonist in Die Hard, one Holly McCla... I mean Gennaro. We're never given the specific details of how she got this job, or the exact conversation that led to her moving all the way across the country to take it. So she grabs the kids, changes her name, hires some Mexican help, and then has the nerve to get mad at her husband for staying behind to tend to HIS job. So when he shows up at the Nakatomi Christmas party looking for a happy reunion, all he gets is a hard time.

So, fine. They don't exactly see eye-to-eye when it comes to balancing their romance with their respective professions. There are a lot of couples that have that problem. But what REALLY gets to me is how ungrateful this woman is. Sure, she gives him hugs and kisses after he risks his ass to save hers out in LA (never mind the Dulles Airport situation). But after that, she has the nerve to separate from him, god knows how many times, because he DRINKS too much? I mean sure, he took bullets, fists, shrapnel, and shards of glass to save her, but then he wanted to have a beer afterward? WELL, we can't have THAT, now can we?

So, if Holly has taught me anything, it's that I don't ever need to get married. If there's ever a hostage situation at MY place of business and I somehow manage to elude capture, the hell with trying to save anybody. I'm going the @#$ home and having a beer.

There are no such things as can't win scenarios

McClane is the mother of all improvisers. Exhibit A: taping a gun to his back when all hope appeared to be lost. He was in a no-win situation at the time - no shirt or shoes, Hans was packing up the goods, Huey Lewis had the jump, and his wife's cleavage was spilling out. This was kind of like my Christmas party, except I was wearing shoes.

Let this be an inspiration to us all, especially those who are severely obese. I see these folks and I think they are in a can't win scenario. I'll see them at a restaurant and I will think, "Damn pudgy, why don't you work out or something." Then I will see a fat guy actually out for a jog and I will think, "Seriously, what is the point, lardass? Watching you run is just disgusting." This can't win scenario can be easily solved if the behemoth in question secured a gun to his back with festive wrapping tape. Actually, this might not work because the gun would undoubtedly get lost in all of the layers of skin. It would be like Jabba the Hut dropping a Cheeto onto himself. That thing is gone forever.

If you pretend to read from a book, people will take you more seriously

To command the attention of frantic hostages, Hans Gruber doesn't start yelling incoherently or firing guns in the air. Nope, he opens some random book and pretends to read.

If you don't know how to read, this would be an awesome thing to do all the time. People would take you much more seriously. Lets say you are illiterate, lonely, fat, hungry, wearing sweatpants and going to KFC. If you pretend to read from a book when you order the Family Feast with extra slaw, the KFC guy will definitely respect you more. He will probably think you are a doctor or a professor.

Hot women grow on airports

It is no wonder McClane elected to save Dulles Airport from bad guys in Die Hard 2 - what would happen to all the beautiful ladies? McClane realized early on in Die Hard 1 that airports are the place to see hot chicks when he saw that busty blond jump into the arms of her steroid-freak boyfriend. McClane seems a little surprised, but I guess he is a dead-beat dad who doesn't ever hop on a plane to visit his kids, so airports are kind of a foreign concept.

If you want to see hot women go to one of two places: Atlanta, Georgia (trust me) or the airport. I am not talking about those podunk airports out in Kansas, I mean the real deal - O'Hare in Chicago. O'Hare is like the Garden of Eden of sexy women. You literally can't go five steps without seeing one. And the best part about hooking up with caliente airport women? There is no chance of a long term relationship - in a couple hours they will be halfway across the country never to be seen again. Unless you are that chick from Denver that filed a paternity suit against me, in which case my lawyer recommends I fly to Colorado to smooth things over. Back to the airport for me!

Send in the Car...

I don't know exactly what "the car" is, but it's pretty badass, isn't it? So bad ass, in fact, that every other car on the road scrambles to get out of its way.

After the first wave of SWAT guys is kneecapped on the front step of Nakotomi Tower, the officers outside realize these hostage-takers aren't kidding around. Al Leong and Huey Lewis clearly mean business in there. So, instead of wasting any more guys, they immediately go for the one and only ace up their collective sleeve.

Next thing we know, "the car" is rolling in to save the day. And this thing is AWESOME. It goes through railings, it goes up stairs, and it... well, okay, we don't really see it do anything else. But it must be rocket proof, right? Uh, no. Fire proof? Doesn't look like it. But I bet it gets great gas mileage.

Anyway, it's a shame we never got to see this tank-like vehicle do more damage. I have to wonder, though - after securing the lobby, what was Phase 2? I'd love to see them maneuver that thing into the elevator to get up to the 30th floor.

New technology is always confusing

Check out the screen grab of McClane trying to figure out how to use a touch screen. The man looks like he is trying to decipher a quantum physics equation written in ancient Latin. Imagine giving McClane an iPhone - he would probably beat you over the head with it.

New technology is always scary to people, and quite frankly I am still getting used to some of this shit. I've had a GPS in my car for almost two years and I still find myself talking to the GPS lady like she is sitting next to me in the car. Worse, I feel bad when she has to "recalculate" the directions when I divert to pick up a pack of smokes on my way to the strip club. I feel like she is disappointed in me - not for objectifying women - but for making her redo the directions. I mean, if she didn't want me to go to the strip club, she wouldn't tell me turn-by-turn how to get there, right?

Smoking only makes you stronger

I personally think smoking is a pretty disgusting habit, but McClane sucked them down like he was trying to start a fish tank siphon vacuum for 2 hours straight. Regardless of the unfortunate side effects of smoking - yellow teeth, cancer, death - McClane treated them as Popeye does spinach. Maybe I have been wrong about smoking all of these years, and the more I smoke the better the aim with my gun will be when I shoot hostiles.

In Illinois they banned smoking inside bars and restaurants, and it is nice to come home from a night out and not smell like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. I went to Wisconsin recently - a lawless state filled with drunks and large women - and the second I walked into a bar I was overwhelmed by smoke and cancer. I told the dozens of rowdy Wisconsites I did not appreciate them smoking in my presence, and they told me to "eat shit". Well, one thing led to another, and now the only thing that is smoking are their battered corpses as their souls escape through their mouths, as the Native Americans prophesied.

John McClane is an American patriot

I do not remember that much from American history in high school. In the oft day I would show up to class, I would typically doodle war scenes on my notebook depicting Colonel Ears and his team of ragtag bunnies waging an epic, nuclear battle against turtle invaders from Planet Shell. After seeing that sentence typed on my screen, I think I finally understand why I didn't get laid more often in high school.

From my vague memory of amendments and constitutions in history class, John McClane seems to embody every quality we would want in a flag-waving American citizen. I believe the 1st amendment had something to do with doing and saying whatever the hell you want, and if that is true, then they should put McClane's face on our currency. The guy smoked, drank, brought a gun on an airplane, blew up a building, and basically was a huge ass to anyone that had it coming. Okay, despite the part about bringing a gun on an airplane (which would make you a terrorist, traitor), McClane IS the ultimate American. That is why every non-American person on the planet hates Americans; we are self-righteous, arrogant pricks that do things our way. If you don't want to do it our way, then eff off.

If any of our founding fathers were alive today - Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Charleton Heston - they would probably smoke two packs a day and shoot Germans at will, like just John-boy. Man, McClane would have been awesome in World War 2. Better head back to the laboratory to work on the time machine - and they told me I was a fool at the science fair! Who is having the last laugh now?

Shooting the glass is really useful

McClane is a wily bastard. If you are in the same room as him he is basically impossible to shoot. Actually, he is impossible to shoot anywhere - stairwell, roof, airport, driving big rig truck down freeway - so, don't even bother. If you would manage to get a bullet into McClane, it would most likely be to the fleshiest part of the shoulder. Pointless, basically.

I imagine I would be the same way - bullets flying every direction while I effortlessly dodge them, meanwhile I let off a couple of rounds into those rival gang members and make off with the stolen goods. Man, last night was awesome.

If anyone does their homework on me or McClane, it should be known your best bet is to shoot the shit around us instead of directly at us. The law or rogue gunmen do not concern nimble badasses like us - but a wayward pipe falling in my direction would scare the piss out of me. Hans and Karl had the right idea when they shot the glass around McClane, exploiting the man's only weakness. This weakened and battered McClane's precious feet, but lucky for him, those pesky terrorists were too busy celebrating their daft maneuver than to follow the blood trail and McClane's crippled body. Cunning strategy.

What was this post about again? Right, shooting the glass is a brilliant move in any type of hostile situation. I tried it once, and it was a great success. I totally kicked ass in my sand volleyball tournament.

Good Help is Hard to Understand

I don't have children, and chances are I never will. And while I can't completely fathom the bond between parent and child, I have to believe it's pretty deep. I mean, I have a dog, and I love that little bastard to death. So when I have to work late or go out of town, I always make sure he's in good hands. I investigate every kennel, and personally interview every dog-sitter. When it comes to the health and safety of my terrier, I leave nothing to chance. I imagine that with children, it's the same thing. Right?

So I can't help but question how thorough Holly's search for a babysitter was before she settled on Paulina. Do you think she interviewed anybody else for the position? Or did she just swing by the Home Depot parking lot and find herself a bargain? I mean, Paulina seems nice and all, but I'd think that fluent English would be one of the qualifications. What if little Lucy had taken a fall down the stairs and required a trip to the emergency room? Do you think Paulina could have given the doctors a full recap of the accident, much less any allergies or medical conditions?

I, for one, love Mexicans. Their food is good, their women are hot, and their tequila is strong. But on the other hand, I also love speaking English. Whether I'm trying to order a Whopper or trim my sideburns, I find it much easier to make requests in my native tongue. So when Paulina says things like "Hola, Mrs. Holly" it's kind of a slap in the face. I'll take broken English over fluent Spanish any day. But Holly gets the last laugh by hanging up without saying goodbye. Take THAT, slave labor! "What would I do without you, Paulina?" may or may not have been meant as a rhetorical question. I guess it's kind of irrelevant since rhetorical is a pretty big word for an illegal alien.

Insubordination will get you ahead in your job

McClane and the guy from Family Matters both achieve great success in Die Hard. The main catalyst for this success was not giving a f*** and disobeying orders. They did the job THEIR way, and if it meant blowing up a building, compromising the safety of others by jabbering on an open walkie-talkie line, killing anyone they wanted, or mouthing off to their superior then so the hell be it.

This kind of reminds me of my attitude at work. The other day, my boss brought me into his office, pounded on his desk and said, "That little stunt you pulled at the copy machine cost us four reams of paper, twenty dollars of ink, and backed up accounting's orders for two hours! But, by God, you get the job done." I asked him if the mayor was up his ass about it, and he blushed and told me to leave the room. So, I think the mayor really was up his ass recently. What a couple of rascals!

Bare Breasts Save Lives

Hey, speaking of the Jackson family, do you all remember Janet's infamous Nip Slip at the Superbowl a couple of years ago? Remember how it was the top story on every station, and on the front page of every paper? Remember how parents, old people and prudes all over the country cried in outrage at the sight of of a simple breast?

Well, I do. The reaction from my family was one of shock and awe. You'd think we'd have just been bombed by those pesky Japanese again. Mom and dad didn't pay attention to a single pass throughout the second half, but rather talked about morals, decency, and the corruption of society. Like this single titty was the second coming of AIDS, destined to wipe out all of mankind.

It's no secret that males everywhere are powerless against a perfect breast. For ages we've been trying to comprehend its power, but as of yet have no defense against it. Ask any cop who's let a D-cup go with a warning, or anybody who's been distracted by a hot jogger's bouncing funbags.

But for those of you out there who insist that nothing good ever comes from the majestic form of a naked female body, consider this. During the takeover of Nakatomi Tower, John McClane was literally cornered - IN the corner office. No fewer than three armed terrorists were coming his way, and would have had him dead to rights in a matter of seconds. But WAIT! What's that in the office next to Holly's? BOOBIES! That drunk blonde girl, who apparently had been moments away from taking her office romance to the next level, serves as the perfect distraction. What's curious here is that it takes ALL THREE of the local goons to make sure the topless blonde is under control - which, of course, gives McClane just enough time to make his getaway. As a side note, and as my partner Ellis mentioned in another post, McClane is not immune to boob power, either. He actually takes pause to say hello to a picture from a nudy magazine AS he's being chased with men with guns.

Bottom line is that, look, boobs really do make the world go round. Men everywhere depend on them right from infancy, and they control every subsequent aspect of our lives. You don't believe me? Try this: Next time you're in a life or death situation, find the closest hot chick and rip her shirt off. You MIGHT get slapped in the face, but you WILL walk away with your life.

No news is good Huey Lewis and the News

My favorite actor in Die Hard has to be Huey Lewis. He plays one of the terrorists, and is probably pretty high up on the terrorist chain because he is such an awesome singer. His songs have been in movies before - like that one song "Back in Time" from Back to the Future. What made that a really cool decision by the filmmakers was how the song's lyrics related to the plot of the movie. Because Marty McFly was actually about to go back in time. You probably didn't notice it - it took me four or five viewings before it hit me. In the literary world, using that song would be a discreet and subtle sign of foreshadowing. No need to thank me, I just have an ear for these sort of things.

Throughout Die Hard I was totally waiting for Huey Lewis to break out in a song, something like "Shards of Glass Don't Feel Good on Your Feet", or, "Inside the Vault are Bearer Bonds Worth a Lot of Money". Both of those would have been good song ideas, but I guess the filmmakers didn't want to give away too much of the plot, otherwise crafty viewers like me would have been wise to the rest of the movie.

My friend told me that is not actually Huey Lewis in the film, so I looked it up on IMDb and it said it actually is this dude named Dennis Hayden. I don't believe it. IMDb has been wrong before - I was once on an episode of Cops and I didn't get credit for it. The website probably didn't recognize me, though, because my face was digitally blacked out, I was wearing football pants, and I had three knife wounds in my shoulder courtesy of that crooked cock-fighting bookie. That was quite a weekend!

German guys don’t bluff. Ever.

Say what you will about Hans Gruber - at least he is a man of his word. He will tell you when he is going to kill you, which makes him both cold-blooded and a helluva honest guy. He shot both Takagi and Ellis in the head, and would have done the same to McClane had the gun actually had bullets (nice going, McClane - that Bill Clay bullshit didn't fool me, either). He even pointed the gun at Takagi's face and counted to three, and the dumbass STILL didn't unlock the safe for him. I'm sure insurance probably would have covered every loss he incurred. Dolt.

Anyway, the lesson I took from this was that German guys don't bluff. One night I was playing cards with this German guy, and the asshole kept winning every hand. Know why? Because EVERYONE was scared to death. If he bet big, we figured that he had the cards to back up his outrageous bets - German guys don't bluff. Well, I decided to nut up and actually call him on a hand, and the freaking guy had a full house, aces over kings. I lost the deed to my house Chevy Astro.

No real point to that story, except that Die Hard was right, yet again. I did have my revenge, though, when I defriended that German guy on Facebook and then told him this buddy of mine slept with his sister. He was real pissed and said he was going to kill the bastard. I laughed and thought he was bluffing. It turns out he wasn't bluffing, and now my friend is dead. Whoops.

...For a Security Guard...

So clearly Hans Spared no expense when it came to equipping his team with state-of-the-art hardware. A giant drill, rocket launcher, metal-cutting chainsaw, and last but not least, a bunch of hockey puck grenades. I, for one have never seen such a device, so I don't actually know what the hell it is. But it's sweet, right? Well, kind of, anyway. I still can't figure out what it actually does.

We're introduced to Karl's little toy during the opening seconds of the Nakatomi takeover. We know right off the bat that he's an excellent shot, as he tags that desk clerk between the eyes at point blank range. Then when he goes after guard number two, the stakes go up. Recall if you will, the 80's pornstar looking security guard who's enjoying a smoke break over by the elevators. Best I can tell, he was distracted, unarmed, and completely harmless. You'd think Karl would want to make it quick and easy. But, I suppose that if you dissect the name of this film, a couple gunshots just doesn't cut it sometimes. No, Karl chose to utilize one of his little flashbangs just to make sure this guy's last seconds on earth were spent in annoyance in confusion. Overkill is the name of the game, I suppose. And while the rest of the guys were on their way upstairs to crash the office Christmas Party, I guess he figured that 31 hostages wouldn't be much more effective than an even 30.

In retrospect, it could have been a simple weapons test. Maybe he didn't know what it was going to do, and didn't have time to test it on the neighbor's cat before taking off for the Nakatomi heist. Even if it turned out to be an ACTUAL hockey puck that didn't actually do anything, he still had his trusty pistol as a backup. Whatever the case, he was clearly satisfied with the results. When Karl and Hans have McClane pinned down in a sea of broken glass, he uses it again with even less of an effect. At least the security guard threw his hands up and squinted slightly, making for an easy kill. All it really did to McClane was made him run a little faster.

Perhaps, if Karl had survived to see Die Hard 2, he would have graduated to ACTUAL grenades. They might not have the same hypnotizing roll or sliding capabilities, but they get the job done. Shit, even a Molotov Cocktail will usually at least knock a guy down.

Takagi would not buy crappy Walmart NFL replica jerseys

Joseph Takagi only wears the nice, expensive shit. Know how I know? Because Hans Gruber, Mr. German Fashion 1986 says so - twice. Once in the elevator, when Hans remarks that he has two of the same suit from John Philips, London (notice how he didn't say Men's Wearhouse, downtown mall - you know you buy your suits there, cheap ass). Then, before he shoots Takagi in the head, Hans flippantly mentions how it would be a shame to ruin that nice suit. Well, mission accomplished. The last time I brought in blood-stained clothes to my dry cleaner with brain residue on the collar, she wasn't too pleased with me. Neither were the police, but there is no point in rehashing the past.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Takagi knows that if you want to be successful at anything you gotta give 100%. Which is why if he were a sports fan, he would NEVER buy those cheap as shit NFL replica jerseys from Walmart. You know the jersey I am talking about - it looks nothing like the real jersey. The colors are slightly off, there are probably a few stripes missing, and the thing gleams like a piece of effing Kryptonite. What, you say? It is only 30 bucks? Woohoo - I'll take it! Nevermind if I go the game or parade around town I am basically broadcasting the fact that I am a hobo.

Seriously, you'd be better off stealing a real jersey from Foot Locker than buying the imitation Tony Romo jersey seen below. Actually, do neither, because Tony Romo sucks, loser.

There is always time for the ladies...

McClane could have gotten his head blown off at any moment while weaving through Nakatomi Tower. If he lost focus for just one second the wall would have been painted with his brain. Yet, the man still found time to ogle pornography that was pinned to an electrical box of some sorts. This is a man that has his priorities in order.

I took McClane's advice and sneaked a copy of Hustler into my SAT exam. Hey, if McClane could spare one second to leer at some broad during the most intense sequence of his life, why couldn't I? Whenever the questions got exceptionally mind-numbing (like bubbling in my social security number - how the ef am I supposed to know that?) I would take a look at the magazine and remember exactly why I was taking the SAT: to one day have the chance to get hammered with busty coeds. Needless to say, I finished the magazine and not the test. If I ever do get my GED I hear the chicks at my local community college are smoking hot. Thanks, McClane.

1980s ethnic stereotypes are okay if the movie is awesome?

Action flicks are typically 90 minutes of cliched nonsense, but if done right they are damn enjoyable. Die Hard managed to take all of the nonsense out of the previous statement but still left some of the cliches (most notably Karl returning from the dead and being shot by the guy from Family Matters, but that will be covered in a future post). Despite being the crescendo of the entire action genre for breaking the rules and writing new ones, Die Hard still abided by the time-honored element from action movie story structure: you know everything you need to know about a character from the first 2 minutes that person is on screen. Sure, Die Hard is tits awesome because it actually possesses characterization and has emotional story arcs for every major character, but it still told viewers who the character is in a nutshell in those first 2 screen minutes:

McClane: Socially indifferent/loose cannon that plays by his own rules (a gun on a plane???)
Holly: Stone cold business woman/late 80s hotness
Guy from Family Matters: Good-natured lard-ass/perennial underdog
Ellis: Groveling douche bag/possible sexual predator
Hans: Calm and collected/Nazi-type level of neurotic fashion perfection
Argyle: Happily clueless/likes rap music
Theo: Fan of Los Angeles Lakers/egghead that can solve Rubik's cubes while blindfolded using nothing but salad tongs (he is smart because he wears glasses)

Argyle and Theo stand out the most, if only because of the reinforcement of 1980s African American film stereotypes. Lets see, we meet Argyle and he immediately puts on Run DMC Christmas music (I am mildly surprised the filmmakers did not put an over-sized boom-box on his shoulder). The first words out of Theo's mouth had to do with basketball. So, when we meet the first African American characters in the film, we immediately learn they like rap and basketball. Hmm.


Look, I grew up on the whitest block in the whitest subdivision in the whitest part of town. My primary access to learning about other ethnicities and cultures was film. I learned a lot of important lessons - Nazis were buffoons, anything from the future was sent back to kill me, and anyone living south of the Mexican border was a guerrilla terrorist. I eventually grew out of all of these assumptions (that nice young lad from Guatemala changed by mind - he was just a guerrilla and not a terrorist), and thankfully Die Hard had the foresight to make the African American characters in the film intelligent, compassionate, heroes, or all of the above. In other words, the complete opposite of Germans. They are all assholes.

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Slowly

Karl wants blood. He wants it so badly, in fact, that he's willing to flip over a desk and be slammed up against the wall by his employer and not retaliate against him with a hail of gunfire. But honestly, who can blame him? If I had to read a hilarious christmas card off my dead brother's sweatshirt, I wouldn't be very happy about it, either. We don't know exactly how close Karl and Tony were at the start of the movie, and I'm not entirely sure that the little gag with the chainsaw and the phone lines was all just fun and games. But still, brothers are brothers. Ever since Tony became the first casualty of Hans' crew, Karl's professionalism took a back seat to his lust for personal revenge and the hunt for McClane became priority number one.

Or perhaps priority two. I think the FIRST thing on Karl's mind throughout the Nakatomi siege was looking like a badass. After McClane's position on the roof is revealed, Karl has a chance to redeem his brother's death, and makes it pretty clear to Fritz and Marco; must have made for a fun elevator ride, huh? But once they're ON the roof and McClane is cornered like a rat in a trap, Karl suddenly slows his role - literally. He's got the perfect opportunity to cut off McClane at the pass, not to mention the higher ground (thanks, Obi Wan). But what does he do? He strikes a pose and walks IN SLOW MOTION to the edge of the platform. Gun poised, hair blowing in the wind, it really is quite the sight. And here's the worst part - McClane didn't even get to see it. If he had, maybe he'd have just surrendered at such an awe inspiring sight.


I've already questioned Karl's wardrobe choice on this blog, but let me see if I can sucker punch that dead horse one more time. A sweatsuit should allow for maximum agility, right? I mean he should have been running labs around McClane. But, as I learned from Mr. Karl, what's the point of doing ANYTHING if you can't look cool while doing it?

Jokes require an audience of one; screw everyone else

You know those douchebags that work in your office? The guys that respond "reply to all" to those all-office emails with quips they deem to be hilarious? The source email says "Meeting at 2:30" and Phil from three cubicles to your left replies to all with:

"I'll be there - but I won't be sitting next to Steve. That leaky pen proved to be a problem for your new khakis at the last meeting, wouldn't you say, Steve?"

Not to be outdone, Steve replies to all with:

"I'll make sure to bring the red pen and sit right next to you, Phil. It will go great with your ketchup stain from lunch!"

HAHAHAHAHHA! What a couple of clever assholes! Meanwhile, your Inbox is now cluttered with Abbot and Costello's back and forths while you sit there imagining a sequence of events that involve those two comedic wizards somehow being hit by a train. You know the douchebags I'm talking about, right? Well, if these guys worked in the same office as John McClane, McClane would break their necks with his bare hands and remove their balls with a butter knife, and not necessarily in that order.

McClane showed us all that you don't need to broadcast your jokes to everyone within a two-block radius. All you need is yourself, and if YOU think you are funny, who the f*** cares what anyone else thinks? Remember when McClane was crawling through the ventilation shaft while being hunted by bad guys with guns?

MCCLANE: Now I know what a TV dinner feels like.

He was alone, in a life or death situation, and he still was able to reel off a one-liner that was not said simply to gain the admiration of his peers. Nope, McClane's joke was strictly for McClane, proving that true jokesters don't need to share their thoughts with eighty people at work via the wonder of electronic mail. McClane wouldn't like email, anyway. As far as he is concerned, progress peaked with frozen pizza.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Ignore

I've always thought that sexism to its fullest extent follows the old credence "women should be seen, not heard" - Die Hard seems to have this the other way around.

Even in the 1980's, the Los Angeles Police Department was an equal opportunity employer - for better or for worse. Before the likes of Lara Croft and Sydney Bristow ushered in a new era of girl power, feminism wore a much different face, complete with concealer makeup. In fact, the female officers in Die Hard don't kick ass OR take names. Sure, they look pretty. But a fat load of good that does John McClane as he tries to send an SOS from the roof of a besieged Nataktomi Tower.

I suppose, in a pre 9/11 world, anonymous calls on emergency frequencies were no big deal - and the word "terrorist" wasn't such a hot-button. Not even when the call for help is cut short by automatic gunfire in the background do the ladies at dispatch take McClane seriously. And what does this teach us? That women can't be trusted in life-or-death situations. Any amount of professional incompetence can be overlooked - but only as long as they're hot. All I have to say is thank Christ these girls are only working dispatch, and not running around LA with guns. If you HAVE to employ women in your place of business, make sure that they're in a position with the smallest potential for screw-ups.

So, if YOU'RE ever trying to make an emergency call in a life-or-death situation, you're probably better calling a male civilian than a female cop.

Making light of national tragedies is okay, not at all inappropriate

Joseph Takagi is a helluva boss - well-liked amongst his employees, throws great Christmas parties, and is loyal to his company almost to a fault (and by "almost to a fault" I mean getting your brains blown out for not giving up the password to the company safe). And, like any good boss, he is not short on the humorous quips when making conversation with alcoholic estranged husbands, like John McClane. Note this exchange:

MCCLANE: You throw quite a party. I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in Japan.
TAKAGI: Hey, we're flexible. Pearl Harbor didn't work out so we got you with tape decks.

I'm not quite sure what this joke means, but I am a high school dropout so I am not really surprised. I always thought the scene would have been better if McClane would have countered with:

MCCLANE: My grandfather got killed on the USS Arizona you jerk-off. I am going to rip out your f***ing spine.

That line totally should have been in there, but I am not that good at writing movie scripts. I wrote this one script about this German guy who was trying to impress some visitors at his company, so I stole a line from Die Hard and just changed the words:

VISITOR: You throw quite a party. I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in Germany.
GERMAN BOSS: Hey, we're flexible. The Holocaust didn't work out so we got you with Volkswagens.

Needless to say my script got rejected. Who does this Spielberg guy think he is?

Dress For Success

Say you're Hans Gruber. It's Christmas Eve in LA, and after months and months of scheming, all your plans are about to come to fruition. You have everything mapped out to the tiniest detail, and have spent a small fortune on enough men, guns, and explosives to pull off the heist of the decade. This is your life's work. So, right on schedule, you pull into Tony and Karl's pad to round out your team of gunmen - and what do you see? A couple of bleach-blonde Germans in sweatsuits. Seriously? I mean are these guys on their way to knock over 40-story skyscraper, or going to grandma's for a sleepover? Were these boys on a schedule? Did they just come from the gym? Did Hans not give them time to go back inside and change into something with pockets?

I actually took a required course at MY job (not the international terrorism business, but a business nevertheless) called "Dressing For Success". It was like 45 minutes of mind-numbing boredom but the moral of the story was that you want to look good - but not so good that it makes your boss look bad. Fair enough. When Hans stands next to Tony or Karl, there's really no question who's in charge. But still, they could have found some kind of middle ground as Marco did with his pretty shirt or Uli with his leather pants.

At the end of the day, I guess you want to be comfortable. Knocking over Nakatomi Tower could have proved to be a marathon job, and while everyone else was adjusting their ties and fumbling with their zippers, Tony and Karl were able to keep focused on their work. Good for them, really. I guess the 80's were a different time. I can't believe that these guys had to start firing automatic weapons into the air before the attendants of Takagi's Christmas party realized they didn't really fit in.

Luckily, John McClane was about dressed to match. No shirt, no shoes, no problem. It seems to me that McClane at his worst is equal to or greater than a German henchman at his best.

Airline Employees are Notoriously Easy

Say what you want about McClane, but the guy knows how to pick up chicks that work for the airline. He often does so without trying, such as in Die Hard 2 when an airport desk employee basically offers her eggs for fertilization after McClane rudely grabs a telephone and then playfully acts like he doesn't know how to use a fax machine (note: this was 1990, EVERYONE knew how to use a fax machine. I can't believe she fell for that). That method of courtship, however, required talking on McClane's part, which is a little too much effort if you ask me. Hence, take a look at the scene in Die Hard 1, in which McClane removes a giant stuffed bear from the overhead storage compartment:


Does this look like a woman that simply wishes to thank you for flying Promiscuous Airlines? The last time I was on a plane, the only look I got from a flight attendant was one of utter disdain when I tried to turn on my iPod during takeoff. There was no smoldering eye contact or "meet me in the airport bar for $8.5o beers". I was thoroughly confused. Then I realized I had forgotten to pack my three-foot tall teddy bear with the red bow. Crap. That definitely would have been the deal breaker.

You know exactly what the bear is thinking right now - "Don't do it, McClane. If this happens, you will have to find a large tree to scratch yourself on, ASAP."