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"Do I look like I'm deep in thought about an investigation involving the horrible murder of a poor innocent woman (angering me so I feel to clutch my weapon,) a case that I just know I'm about to solve. . . yeah? Ok cause that's totally what I was going for. . . Do we need more smoke? I feel there's not enough smoke. . ."The tranquil beauty of Jefferson Parish, Louisiana is interrupted with the screams of an innocent woman, her life threatened and in danger. It is heard by the fine-tuned ears of Steven Seagal; they're geared in such a way and are so well built that they can hear an injustice taking place up to 100 miles away. Immediately he's on the move, gearing up and tearing down the road in his Sheriff wagon, peering out the windshield and feeling satisfied that this new one has no cracks in it (just yesterday he put a traffic violator through it, and needed a new one.) When he arrives at the scene his own personal team of elite officers are already there, their cars fishtailed across the road to form a natural barricade. His breaks squeal as he burns his way to a stop, and he sits there waiting, as if at any moment the rock soundtrack will kick in, so that he may get out and pull off his glasses and say something bad-ass and prophetic. But no music comes, so Seagal gets out, one hand holding a megaphone, the other hand up near his face clutching a delicacy that is shrinking in size with each bite. He's eating a donut, the crumbs falling out of his mouth as he greets his men, yelling on the megaphone, and though it distorts his voice and makes it hard for him to be understood, he still continues to use it anyway.
"Sooo mmmummumum." The amplification from the megaphone picks up every little nuance, every grind of the teeth and manipulation of fatty cheek needed to scarf down his tasty snack. "I'mmm mumumthinking we should set up mumumum ummm a permimeter mumumum here. . . man these are great, would you guys like to have one? Really, its ok, I've got a whole mumumbox of em' on the mumumpassangers seat. Don't let it be said I don't ever need a partner." He laughs, motioning to his men, three of which just stand there looking like Larry, Curly, and Moe, all in a row: Seagal had his own set of Three Stooges.
Nuk-Nuk-Nuk
"Sooo mmmummumum." The amplification from the megaphone picks up every little nuance, every grind of the teeth and manipulation of fatty cheek needed to scarf down his tasty snack. "I'mmm mumumthinking we should set up mumumum ummm a permimeter mumumum here. . . man these are great, would you guys like to have one? Really, its ok, I've got a whole mumumbox of em' on the mumumpassangers seat. Don't let it be said I don't ever need a partner." He laughs, motioning to his men, three of which just stand there looking like Larry, Curly, and Moe, all in a row: Seagal had his own set of Three Stooges.
Nuk-Nuk-Nuk"We're uh, standing right next to you sir, you don't need to use the megaphone." Curly says.
"Mumumum." Ignoring him he turns to the house. "Alright mumum we know you're in theremumum." Swallow. "Come out mumum with your hands up!"
Inside a confused kidnapper thinks he hears the sounds of some horrible beast outside, and it seems to be talking to him. He gets up and peers out the window, pulling aside the curtain.
"There!" Seagal says. "There he is!" He tosses his donut aside. "Cover me boys, I'm goin' in." He slides over the roof of his car for no reason. Similarly he rolls evasively in the dirt, for no reason, there is no real immediate threat here. In the dark you can almost trick yourself into believing he's that young Steven Seagal again, with the slick grease hair and a fresh face, but then the rotten moonlight hits him and he's just fat and old and looks tired. He slides up against the house and pulls out his gun, drawing it up towards his head. He breathes heavily from all of the sudden aerobics, but is calmed by an inner peace. He's played this situation out a thousand times, and he has always come out on top.
This time would be no different.
"I don't want to hurt you, I just want you to let the girl go." He pulls back the hammer on his gun. He takes a deep breath, turns, and kicks in the door, firing his gun five times, killing both the hostage and the victim, instantly.
"CUT!" The director yells, as he gets up from his chair. He pulls down his earmuff-headphones and shakes his head. "Where the hell is the smoke? There's not enough smoke, I asked for more smoke than this!" He looks around for anyone close enough to skewer, but no one makes eye contact, no one but Seagal. "And Seagal, what was up with the fuckin' donut? Its bad enough your fat as it is, sure you've lost a bit of weight since the public has last seen you, but a donut? Really, a donut? Do you really need to be eating on the set during filming like this?" He waits for an answer, but not very long, for he fears that that answer may be a strike to the face. "Look ok, ok, take five everybody."
Its the latest filming of A&E's Lawman, a new show that follows Seagal around Jefferson Parish on his real job as Sheriff of the county. I always thought it was real.
"Just another day on the job." He says, wiping his face with a towel.
"I thought it was suppose to be real?" I ask. He laughs.
"Oh even I know reality T.V. isn't real, at least not completely real. We film certain parts here, then add in normal patrol footage and stuff. . . Helps liven it up, get good ratings, you know things like that. The people believe its real because we say it is, again and again."
We mean it.
A Demonstration in Martial Arts; The Savage Beating of a 12 Year Old
After the altercation with Chuck, Seagal felt a need to let out a little more built up aggression, and thought I should know at least a little bit about what he's all about, so he gave me a little martial arts demonstration.
What followed was perhaps the most savage beating of a 12 year old I have ever seen in my entire life.
The photos:
"So, say you're on patrol, and some 12 year old jumps out, and he looks evil, he looks menacing, he looks like he's just about to kill you. First make it apparent to your would-be-attacker that you don't want to hurt them. Then reach and grab them behind the neck, like so, and see this bone right here in the neck? Well keep pressure on this bone, there's a nerve in there that will make the boys arms shoot out and stay there, as if made of stone, giving you the perfect oportunity to hit him right here with your elbow like this. . ."
The result:
"Now wait for the boy, if he gets up, kick him in the face, like so. . ."
PHOTO MISSING
"Now, who's ready for lunch?"
"Mumumum." Ignoring him he turns to the house. "Alright mumum we know you're in theremumum." Swallow. "Come out mumum with your hands up!"
Inside a confused kidnapper thinks he hears the sounds of some horrible beast outside, and it seems to be talking to him. He gets up and peers out the window, pulling aside the curtain.
"There!" Seagal says. "There he is!" He tosses his donut aside. "Cover me boys, I'm goin' in." He slides over the roof of his car for no reason. Similarly he rolls evasively in the dirt, for no reason, there is no real immediate threat here. In the dark you can almost trick yourself into believing he's that young Steven Seagal again, with the slick grease hair and a fresh face, but then the rotten moonlight hits him and he's just fat and old and looks tired. He slides up against the house and pulls out his gun, drawing it up towards his head. He breathes heavily from all of the sudden aerobics, but is calmed by an inner peace. He's played this situation out a thousand times, and he has always come out on top.
This time would be no different.
"I don't want to hurt you, I just want you to let the girl go." He pulls back the hammer on his gun. He takes a deep breath, turns, and kicks in the door, firing his gun five times, killing both the hostage and the victim, instantly.
"CUT!" The director yells, as he gets up from his chair. He pulls down his earmuff-headphones and shakes his head. "Where the hell is the smoke? There's not enough smoke, I asked for more smoke than this!" He looks around for anyone close enough to skewer, but no one makes eye contact, no one but Seagal. "And Seagal, what was up with the fuckin' donut? Its bad enough your fat as it is, sure you've lost a bit of weight since the public has last seen you, but a donut? Really, a donut? Do you really need to be eating on the set during filming like this?" He waits for an answer, but not very long, for he fears that that answer may be a strike to the face. "Look ok, ok, take five everybody."
Its the latest filming of A&E's Lawman, a new show that follows Seagal around Jefferson Parish on his real job as Sheriff of the county. I always thought it was real.
"Just another day on the job." He says, wiping his face with a towel.
"I thought it was suppose to be real?" I ask. He laughs.
"Oh even I know reality T.V. isn't real, at least not completely real. We film certain parts here, then add in normal patrol footage and stuff. . . Helps liven it up, get good ratings, you know things like that. The people believe its real because we say it is, again and again."
We mean it."So those whores on Flavor of Love aren't really whores?" My heart is breaking.
"Oh no, they're really whores, just some of their fights and confessionals aren't necessarily real. Producers have a lot of power. . . Its why I got to put up with that snot nosed puss over there. Listen. . ." He begins but is interrupted.
"Hey Steven. . ." Its an angry voice. "I got a bone to pick with you buddy." It belongs to Chuck Norris.
"Hey Chuck." Says Steven, calm, friendly.
"Hey Steven." Says Chuck again, uptight, angry. "I've got a little problem with this show of yours. . . I've known you to be jealous of my work all my life, but this just about crosses the line. This just about really gets my goat, and I think I'm gonna have to kick your ass, Steve."
"Now now, I don't want a fight, just what are you talking about?"
"This show, don't you think its a coincidence that, you like me, were involved in martial arts and have an extensive action career in the movie business, and that you, like me, are now getting your own show where you play a cop?" Chuck asks.
"There's no playing, this is real."
"Cut the shit. You've always tried to take my fame, and now here you are stealing Walker Texas Ranger, right in front of me. And look at you. You're washed up. Look at me. I've got a wife who's forty years younger than me, I've got my own home body gym. . . While you're out here playing cops and robbers, I'm at home hitting that, all damn night. Yeah that's right, and I don't even need Viagra." Chuck pokes him with his finger. "Do you have your own personal website that welcomes each and every visitor with your prerecorded voice? Huh, no? Didin't think so."
"That doesn't mean I'm washed up. . . And your pretend little show wasn't the inspiration for mine, they came to me Chuck. . . I don't want to hurt you." His mind is already filling up with all the ways he could hurt him.
"That's a load of shit. At least admit that I was the inspiration for your show, Walker Texas Ranger was pretty bad ass. . . There wouldn't be Lawman without me."
"No I won't do it. Because it isn't true."
"So what's this about, money? The message? You were always about that whole Buddhist bullshit message Steven, but there's just one problem with that, you kill people in your movies, a lot of em, you injure them horrifically, you use weapons effectively and efficiently with the intention to hurt and maim and even kill. At least I used America. I could kick peoples asses and be bad ass because I'm American, and America has a big long history of kicking ass. And I kick ass because I'm American too. See?"
"Oh no, they're really whores, just some of their fights and confessionals aren't necessarily real. Producers have a lot of power. . . Its why I got to put up with that snot nosed puss over there. Listen. . ." He begins but is interrupted.
"Hey Steven. . ." Its an angry voice. "I got a bone to pick with you buddy." It belongs to Chuck Norris.
"Hey Chuck." Says Steven, calm, friendly.
"Hey Steven." Says Chuck again, uptight, angry. "I've got a little problem with this show of yours. . . I've known you to be jealous of my work all my life, but this just about crosses the line. This just about really gets my goat, and I think I'm gonna have to kick your ass, Steve."
"Now now, I don't want a fight, just what are you talking about?"
"This show, don't you think its a coincidence that, you like me, were involved in martial arts and have an extensive action career in the movie business, and that you, like me, are now getting your own show where you play a cop?" Chuck asks.
"There's no playing, this is real."
"Cut the shit. You've always tried to take my fame, and now here you are stealing Walker Texas Ranger, right in front of me. And look at you. You're washed up. Look at me. I've got a wife who's forty years younger than me, I've got my own home body gym. . . While you're out here playing cops and robbers, I'm at home hitting that, all damn night. Yeah that's right, and I don't even need Viagra." Chuck pokes him with his finger. "Do you have your own personal website that welcomes each and every visitor with your prerecorded voice? Huh, no? Didin't think so."
"That doesn't mean I'm washed up. . . And your pretend little show wasn't the inspiration for mine, they came to me Chuck. . . I don't want to hurt you." His mind is already filling up with all the ways he could hurt him.
"That's a load of shit. At least admit that I was the inspiration for your show, Walker Texas Ranger was pretty bad ass. . . There wouldn't be Lawman without me."
"No I won't do it. Because it isn't true."
"So what's this about, money? The message? You were always about that whole Buddhist bullshit message Steven, but there's just one problem with that, you kill people in your movies, a lot of em, you injure them horrifically, you use weapons effectively and efficiently with the intention to hurt and maim and even kill. At least I used America. I could kick peoples asses and be bad ass because I'm American, and America has a big long history of kicking ass. And I kick ass because I'm American too. See?"
"I just want to protect the people." Steven says.
"Protect the people? What the hell is that. . . You know karate isn't about protecting people, or yourself, its about selling movies, DVD's, instruction videos and work out machines. . ."
They argue until a pushing match ensues, and I can think only to back up and get a good view of the fight everyone is secretly begging to see. Chuck Norris displays how much better shape he's in. It escalates into a total show down.
"You can't handle this, Seagal." Chuck does the splits, hops up as if he has no nuts to harm at all and smiles, throwing in a flashy crescent kick for added flare.
"You can't handle this. . ." Seagal fires his gun. Chuck staggers back, shocked by the force of the bullet, by the thought of defeat - Chuck isn't use to losing. He falls to the floor, a crowd gathers, some still not quite sure what it is they just saw. The director barrels through the crowd, a chicken with his head cut off.
"God damn it Seagal. . . What the hell did you have to kill him for?"
"What?" Seagal's arms go up. "I said I didn't want to hurt him."
As it turns out, Chuck wasn't killed, the bullet didn't even pierce the skin. It had left a bruise the size of an orange on his abdomen however.
Of course he didn't die, Total Body Gym helps you reflect bullets.
"Protect the people? What the hell is that. . . You know karate isn't about protecting people, or yourself, its about selling movies, DVD's, instruction videos and work out machines. . ."
They argue until a pushing match ensues, and I can think only to back up and get a good view of the fight everyone is secretly begging to see. Chuck Norris displays how much better shape he's in. It escalates into a total show down.
"You can't handle this, Seagal." Chuck does the splits, hops up as if he has no nuts to harm at all and smiles, throwing in a flashy crescent kick for added flare.
"You can't handle this. . ." Seagal fires his gun. Chuck staggers back, shocked by the force of the bullet, by the thought of defeat - Chuck isn't use to losing. He falls to the floor, a crowd gathers, some still not quite sure what it is they just saw. The director barrels through the crowd, a chicken with his head cut off.
"God damn it Seagal. . . What the hell did you have to kill him for?"
"What?" Seagal's arms go up. "I said I didn't want to hurt him."
As it turns out, Chuck wasn't killed, the bullet didn't even pierce the skin. It had left a bruise the size of an orange on his abdomen however.
Of course he didn't die, Total Body Gym helps you reflect bullets.
After the altercation with Chuck, Seagal felt a need to let out a little more built up aggression, and thought I should know at least a little bit about what he's all about, so he gave me a little martial arts demonstration.
What followed was perhaps the most savage beating of a 12 year old I have ever seen in my entire life.
The photos:
"So, say you're on patrol, and some 12 year old jumps out, and he looks evil, he looks menacing, he looks like he's just about to kill you. First make it apparent to your would-be-attacker that you don't want to hurt them. Then reach and grab them behind the neck, like so, and see this bone right here in the neck? Well keep pressure on this bone, there's a nerve in there that will make the boys arms shoot out and stay there, as if made of stone, giving you the perfect oportunity to hit him right here with your elbow like this. . ."The result:
"Now wait for the boy, if he gets up, kick him in the face, like so. . ."PHOTO MISSING
"Now, who's ready for lunch?"
It was a fine showing. I am though, no fan of blood, and the kid was a real bleeder.
The Decision:
It is for his new show alone, Lawman, that iR fearfully declares Steven Seagal, dangerously retarded. He's already a lethal weapon on his own, and now you wanna give him even more lethal weapons and a badge that says he can pretty much do whatever he wants?
iR
The Decision:
It is for his new show alone, Lawman, that iR fearfully declares Steven Seagal, dangerously retarded. He's already a lethal weapon on his own, and now you wanna give him even more lethal weapons and a badge that says he can pretty much do whatever he wants?
iR
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