It’s the holidays…again…and in the midst of all the typical crap like breaking out the decorations for the house and erecting the false trees or buying the real ones and scrambling to get out the Christmas cards to people we don’t ever talk to anymore, we here at the Sewer are once again taking stock of the many gifts we’ve gotten from the movies over the years and celebrating them in the form of our own demented little Christmas carol we like to call the 12 Days of CHUDmas.
Over the next 12 days we’re going to be counting down – in reverse order, cause screw the original carol, counting up sucks – these gifts and tying in the entries with some gift ideas to help take the sting out of that last minute trip to the store to snag something for that cousin who decided to be a considerate douche and send you a present after five years of non-communication.
On the seventh day of CHUDmas my true CHUD sent to me…
Seven Hunted Hunters
Movie: Predator (1987)
Director: John McTiernan
Dutch: This cabinet minister — does he always travel on the wrong side of the border?
Major General Phillips: Apparently they strayed off course. And we’re fairly certain they’re in guerrilla hands.
An important member of the American government has gone missing in the Central American country of Val Verde (a fictional locale oft used by 20th Century Fox; including another Arnold flick, Commando), and only one man has biceps big enough to rescue him: Major Alan “Dutch” Schaefer (Arnold Schwarzenegger). But the muscles don’t stop there. Joining Dutch is his elite team of special forces badasses: steely Mac Eliot (Bill Duke), loud-mouth Blain Cooper (Jesse Ventura), stoic Billy Sole (Sonny Landham), doofus Rick Hawkins (Shane Black), and, uh, the other one who speaks Spanish, Jorge “Poncho” Ramirez (Richard Chaves). Plus Dutch’s former teammate, and a current CIA agent assigned to the mission, George Dillon (Carl Weathers). Each man alone oozes with enough testosterone to make your mother grow Zach Galifianakis’ beard just from shaking his hand. Together nothing on this planet can fuck with their shit.
Oh look… a freaky alien. That changes things.
After schooling an entire camp of guerrillas, Dutch and co. soon find themselves picked off one-by-one by an eight foot tall Rastafarian with an invisibility cloak and a Batman-esque arsenal of deadly gizmos, who coincidentally has made a pit stop on our planet for some light slaughter. As we learn later in the film, the Predator, like Teddy Roosevelt, is drawn to areas with the best “game.” Being the most badass dudes on the planet was totally sweet mere hours ago, but now it has made Dutch’s team the ideal prey. Though they try a variety of things to survive – like clearing some jungle brush with thousands of bullets, taking off their shirts, and, hmm, that’s about it – pretty soon Dutch is the only remaining member of his crew. Then he learns the power of mud!
Aside from registering off the charts on the Gonzo-Badassness Scale, Dutch’s team also sported a high number of gubernatorial dreamers. Jesse Ventura served one term as Governor of Minnesota, Schwarzenegger two terms as Gov of Cahleefone-ya, and Sonny Landham ran in the Republican primary election for Governor of Kentucky in 2003. I live my life in both Minnesota and California, so it may be a good thing for me Landham didn’t win, otherwise I may have had to move to Kentucky too.
Fun fact: I just visited the lovely and imaginative Minnesota History Center, and in their “Minnesota 150” exhibit, highlighting 150 historically important Minnesotans, nestled among people like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Boy Dylan, William Worrall Mayo (founder of the Mayo Clinic), and Sinclair Lewis, is Mr. Jesse “The Body” Ventura. They even have a little TV screen the plays the scene from Predator in which he delivers one of the film’s most famous lines: “I ain’t got time to bleed.” Well played, museum. Well played.
CHUDmas Gift Ideas
