And now it's time for the most awesome thing I've seen in the last month. And that's coming from a guy who spent his weekend hanging out in a casino with midget wrestlers.
I'm home and bored and checking the OnDemand listings, and there it is, shining and beautiful, and its name is Hobo With a Shotgun. Right now, some of you are thinking, "Well what does this have to do with Kansas City? Why should we care? We come here for news about Kansas City?" I'll tell you why. Because this is about all of us. All of our petty squabbles, all the things that hold KC back, be it East Side vs. West Side, class divisions, race, the petty grudges people in this town have for so many years that they can't even remember what the fights were about to begin with -- this transcends all of that. If they held a free screening of this in the Power & Light District, it would usher in a new era of prosperity and double-barreled truth.
This Hobo comes into Hope Town, but everyone calls it Scum Town because the people live under the thumb of the murderous Drake. If you cross him, he sticks you in a manhole with your head trapped above ground and a barbwire noose over your neck, and then he rips your fucking head off with a motorcycle, and hookers bathe in the fountain of your blood. The Hobo is like, 'fuck this,' because he just wants to save up enough money to buy a lawnmower so maybe he can get people to pay him a measly five bucks for mowing their lawns. Then he can someday find a little peace in this rotten universe. But they won't let him rest. They keep shoving bumfights and rape and octopus demons in his face, and finally the Hobo snaps because men have a breaking point.
He takes his $50, and he could buy the lawnmower and take the coward's way out, but instead he buys a shotgun and starts dispensing justice. Only most people, as happens in the real world, too, have completely checked out by the age of 25 in fear of their own personal octopus demon. So even though he's cleaning up the streets, he has to contend with with the ritualistic slaughter of the homeless by the masses who just want to sleep. Then he meets a hooker, and she doesn't have a heart of gold -- "She's fucked for food," as Al Swearengen would say -- and he stirs something in her. So in the Hobo's hour of need, she gives this speech that contains everything you need to know about life, ever, in any situation:
Some people got bed to sleep on, where they can crawl under the coversHobo With a Shotgun, folks. You know how Grindhouse and Machete weren't nearly as cool as they thought they were because they couldn't stop winking at their own premises every frame of the film? Hobo With a Shotgun doesn't wink. Its eyelids have been ripped off, that's how much it doesn't wink. We as a people are better for it.
and have a good night's rest. But other people, they don't got beds at
all. Instead they gotta find an alleyway or a park bench where some
fucker's not gonna stab them. But just because they don't got beds
doesn't mean they're homeless. 'Cause guess what, they've got the biggest
home of any of us. It's called the streets! And right now, we're all
standing in their home, so maybe we should show them some goddamn
respect. If this is their home, they've got a right to keep it clean,
don't they? And sometimes on the streets, a broom just ain't gonna
fucking cut it. That's when you gotta get a shotgun!