The Manifesto Continues to be Explained

One of my all-time favorite movies is this rather violent, non-PC, hammily-acted, relic from the '70's. What is the enduring charm of watching a bunch of drunken British actors stumbling around Africa? Well, go back to one of my very first blogs to understand my fascination with escapist action films. But you have to also understand how important for me (and several of my friends and colleagues) it is to have this kind of entertainment in my life. There's just something special about, in this case, watching actors like Richard Burton, Roger Moore, and Richard Harris running around pretending to be mercenaries. It says something about the need to keep the child inside alive.
I am steadfastly refusing to grow-up. I refuse the mantle that society insists on placing on me just because I am supposed to "act my age." Screw that shit! Let somebody else "grow-up." I don't feel like suffocating myself and killing my dreams. You have to come to an understanding of what defines you as a human being and then be true to that expression. We get distracted by everyday stresses and forget to be ourselves. And eventually, you wake up one day and don't recognize the face looking back at you in the mirror. No thanks! Call it mid-life crisis, call it irresponsibility, call it whatever you like. I call it being true to myself, fuck-you-very-much.
So there two ways of responding to this blog: You are either with me on the Red Team, or you are a hopeless, lost cause who probably voted for Bush because you're a "grown-up." You're good Ash, and I'm bad Ash (look that reference up).

Oh, and on a personal note, thanks to you Pitchfork (I like Sir Charles Dividends and Joe Dogs, not to mention Sean Finn) for reminding me about The Wild Geese (you started this rant). Look up how many people listed The Wild Geese as a favorite movie. There are only seven of us out there, and Rob and I have been flies in the ointment together from way back.