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New model, Same ol’ crap!

Ugh. Why do I do this to myself?

Have you ever had an ex-girlfriend—a horrible, mean, hurtful, possible psychotic shrew—that you vow to never see again, but, as soon as one of you are single, someway, somehow, a “hook-up” eventually happens? And by “hook-up”, I mean a night a pure, raw, animalistic, illegal intercourse. It’s the best, right? Sure it is. Yes it is.

The trouble, though, is the next morning. That same ol’ craziness comes back in spades and you are the target of every scornful barb and jab. You gather your stuff, steal a Coke from the refrigerator and, shamefully, trudge back to your car (which is still in her name, yikes!) and vow never, ever, to make that same mistake again. As an added bonus, you come home to fifty-four messages on your answering machine ranging from “I’m sorry! Let’s get back together!” to “I’m posting on Craigslist that you have a small dick!”

You guys know what I’m talking about, right? Right?

Well, either way, this is what the Fast/Furious franchise is for me. It’s a horrific ex that promises you things will be different this time, only to, by the time the credits role, have you fully realize that you’ve been sucked back into their insane, in-need-of-medication world and desperately want to get as far away as possible! Damn you, Vin Diesel!

The latest installment in this franchise, Fast & Furious—number four, by my count—brings back the screen’s hottest homoerotic couple, the aforementioned racially ambiguous meat-head Vin Diesel and that wispy twink-hunk Paul Walker, in an all-new adventure, involving cars and diving them very fast and very furious, natch. And why? Because after Diesel’s “girlfriend” Michelle Rodriguez is killed, the two gear-jockeys put aside their moronic difference to track down her killer, a hilariously stereotypical international drug lord. The twosome get recruited into his stable of drug-mules and race through the city (and a mountain too! Wowzers!) to prove how big their penises are, all with the help of a super-futuristic GPS. It makes your Tom-Tom look like an asshole.

Sounds good, right? Sounds like it should be a fun time, right?

It’s not. At all. It’s utterly stupid.

You know who these movies are made for? That 31-year-old guy who is in an eight-year vo-tech student, wears a Livestrong bracelet, has a domestic beer can collection, jerks off to Megan Fox in Maxim, bathes in Axe Body Spray, thinks that a spoiler really makes his 78 AMC Pacer into a “smurfin sweet rice rocket” and if you disagree, you’re a playa-hater! His roommate, AKA his mom, got his back, yo.

But, you know, this movie was a HUGE hit. There are people who saw the trailer for this six months in advance and promptly Tweeted their excitement! America loves the Fast/Furious movies and we can only hope to come together as a country, one more time, and make another one. Also: PALIN in 2012, am I right, America?

The DVD is an embarrassment of riches and proof that this country is not in a recession. Let’s start off with the hilariously awful short film, Los Bandoleros, a twenty-minute prequel “directed” by Diesel. Please, YouTube this now and bask in its insane awfulness. We also got a commentary from Justin Lin, a gag reel, a doc that compares and contrasts muscle cars and imports with the audacity of an inner-city thug attempting the ACT, some featurettes about the stunts, shooting the “big rig” scene, a “driving school” with Diesel and a digital copy for your iPod, which you should watch when driving. Please.

So, Fast/Furious franchise, consider this the “Dear Vin” letter, for reals. I’m not gonna fall for this again. I’m not gonna get curious and see what you’re up too. We’re just two different people from two different worlds and they should never, ever cross. I’m just gonna get in my Volvo and driving to Mexico. Please don’t make a short film and follow me…

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