PENIS HEAD

I think that what we have to do is consider changing the thrust of this blog to just a probe, a light fingering, slow digit insertion, concentrated deep stroking, then eventual paroxysm of pleasure in Tommy Cruise's damaged ego and psyche. Or mine. I want him to fail. Or at least be stripped bare then unfurled, so to speak. And when he is, I am happy.

Reading Dana Stevens' review of Tropic Thunder in Slate, I nearly had my own kind of 'O' jumping on my own couch. She writes:

Robert Downey Jr. knocking a role like this out of the park is no surprise. But who could have foreseen Tom Cruise nearly stealing the movie in a fat suit, a prosthetic nose, a skinhead wig, and an Austin Powers-style mat of chest fur? Cruise is always at his best when he's skewering some unpleasant aspect of his own persona; thus, the crazed motivational speaker he played in Magnolia was a career high point, and the supremely crude Les Grossman is another. Maybe as the head of United Artists, Cruise really does spew vicious obscenities on the phone and engage in triumphant hip-hop dances in an underground bunker of an office. At any rate, never has a role so cannily taken advantage of Cruise's compact, thumblike body shape—that is, his physical resemblance to a penis. As Les Grossman, he's a literal and figurative dick, and it's the role of a lifetime.

I'm not happy with her suggesting that he's hit anything out of any park, however, I will take the rest.

It's his only defense now. That's what narcissists do, trust me, I know. Assholes. When everything starts crumbling around them, everyone sees through them, sees the flimsy social constructs they've constructed, they make a last ditch effort to win back your love, even if it means self-parody, self-assault. He is a bully of Thetan proportions.

He is a Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick.

photo courtesy: Media.Movieweb.com