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PUNCHING DAY

Punching Day: Ninja Mind Control 🌭

Ashida Kim, ninja, wrote several books on how to become a silent agent of death, and at least one semi-autobiographical novel about his time as a top secret sex spy. He has a standing deathmatch combat challenge to anyone who can solve his deathmatch combat challenge payment and rule stipulations riddle, which no one has ever done. And in 1985, he published…

If you’re anything like I was in 1985, you’re about to have your heart broken by Ninja Mind Control. The first two thirds of the book confess, over and over, there’s no such thing as Ninja mind control. It’s mostly instructions on how to dress up like a Ninja and then hold very still while you think about different organs. Ashida, which isn’t his real first name, also describes a few common magic tricks. Ninja Master Kim, which isn’t his real last name, title, or job, seems to think that if you used a different book to become a magician, you’d sure look like a real Ninja.

Again, there is no such thing as real mental powers here. This is a poorly educated man with no encyclopedia or Internet trying to remember something he once heard about hypnosis. For a kid in the ’80s, it was like buying the book Santa Claus is Real and finding it only had one chapter called “Okay, He Isn’t, but People do Break Into Children’s Houses.”

Anyway, after 80 pages of costumed meditation tips, Ninja Mind Control finally gives up on its premise and shows you the death moves of the Ninja! I love them so much I’m not even going to do anything cute– this is just the Top 11 Ninja Mind Control Techniques.

It may sound strange for hidden assassins to begin a murder with a gentlemanly flourish, but the CEREMONIAL BOW is important to help us remember this is some hillbilly maniac making shit up.

A bow is nice, sure, but in true Ninja fashion, it’s also a trick. Ashida Kim uses them as a sneaky way to figure out his opponent’s fighting style. If they bow with their arms at their sides, prepare for Karate. If their hands retract and get replaced by scissors, you’ll know to adjust your blows for robot. Ashida does admit it’s hard to squeeze in a CEREMONIAL BOW during a different Ninja’s ambush, but in that case you can avoid combat by giving your attacker a password. Nowhere in his book does Ashida Kim offer this password to the reader because even the polite advice of a master Ninja will kill you.

Speaking of lethal, a bow isn’t only for honoring your opponent. If done correctly, it protects you from any state or county laws against murder. The CEREMONIAL BOW is how you tell witnesses, “Everything’s okay; it was his fault I killed him.” I’m not explaining it very well. I’ll let Ashida run you through the details:

You probably remember the court case Kim v. Moonwolf where the presiding judge famously said, “Am I reading this right? It says here on the police report that multiple witnesses saw the defendant bow at the victim’s body? If that’s true, why was this brought before my court? The victim was warned. Ninja warned. Mister Kim, on behalf of justice, I apologize for wasting your time and the court’s time with this. You’re free to go. Whisper poison 1073.”

Oh my god, do you guys think that bit at the end could have been the password?

Imagine holding a sheet in front of you with both hands, except don’t imagine it. Really hold a sheet in front of you with both hands, and to see if you’re holding it correctly, imagine this Ninja not holding a sheet was:

So the idea behind DRAGON-SPREAD WINGS is to take the psychologically devastating bluff of a kitty cat standing sideways, and apply it to human battles. A warrior will think twice before attacking someone the size of a sheet, which they very well could be behind that sheet they’re holding. At the very least it’s an “intimidating gesture” that will “remind observers about Ninjas using capes to appear larger.” And if holding up a sheet alone isn’t enough (it will be), you could throw it over their head so they can’t see. Ashida’s mind is like this– an endless waterfall of deadly ideas while he changes the sheets on his brother-in-law’s futon. Where you and I might see a bullfight and think “bullfight,” Ashida Kim thinks, “yes, but perhaps also manfight.” The point is, you should always be wearing a Ninja cape in case you need to double in size or blind up to six enemies.

Footwork is an underrated aspect of martial arts. A world class fighter can baffle opponents and prevent attacks before they’re thrown with angles and distance. Ashida Kim has taken that philosophy and added the theatrics of stage magic to create HALF STEP, the coolest, deadliest way to move a little bit forward. 

So to recap, during the fury of a raging death match, you raise both your hands as if holding a sheet or cape. This will distract the enemy from your sneaky back foot creeping ever closer. Close enough for groin. Close enough for death.

One of the problems with learning poison foot techniques from a book is that it’s hard to understand how to apply them from a single photo. Ashida Kim, wise Ninja, knows this, so he included a second photo demonstrating the practical application. Let’s take a look:

That clears up all my questions. Thanks, Ashida.

There is a Toddler philosophy where if someone can’t see you, that counts as invisible. So if you walk out of someone’s eyeline, you have vanished. But Toddler legs are wobbly and Toddler socks are slippery, so keep your arms raised for balance as you sneak behind people. Hold on, something’s wrong. Shit, somehow the word “Ninja” in this paragraph got replaced with “Toddler.” Wait, that’s weird– it works both ways?

The application of the MI LU STEP (PIVOT) is… well, here, I’ll just show you:

You can’t see him, but the Ninja is there, behind the confused Karate man who foolishly blinked near a Ninja. From here, the invisible, or behind him, Ninja can shadow the man indefinitely while he wonders why everyone keeps calling him “you two.” It reminds me of what they tell you on the first day of Ninja school: if you’re not already invisible and behind a man, the person with an invisible man behind them is you. Then half the class gets B’s and the other half gets headstones.

So, okay, Ashida Kim is obviously an idiot whose last thought will be, “this lawnmower blade is moving pretty fast; I’ll have to time this just right,” but let’s be clear: he sincerely thinks I can jump behind someone while they’re blinking, and not a single person has ever believed in me like that. This book rules.

Part of what makes Ashida Kim special is how he thinks any physical contact between two human bodies is a mangling train accident. Here, he breaks down the raw devastation of the SCRAPING SIDEKICK.

First, gently Ninja-shove your foot into your enemy’s shin. This shatters their leg, obviously, but you’re not done. Scrape your sock down the remains of their shin to step on their foot. You’ve already maimed, Ninja, but now you’ve annoyed. Let’s see it in action:

The impact has crippled him, the scrape has tortured him, and now the foot has trapped him. Like a fading culture reduced to several overused allegories, Ashida Kim wastes no part of the kick. And as long as that Ninja with all 140 pounds of his weight on his back leg rests his foot there, his enemy can only stand in place and scream. Plus, since his sister’s cat never poops in the litter box, I guess his toes count as fecal bacteria syringes? Basically, Karate Man is already dead fifteen different ways and as long as someone sees Ashida Kim bow, the law can’t do shit about it.

Here’s some Ninja Mind Control for you: FUCKING PUNCH TO THE FACE.

So let me try to explain. What you want to do here is take a fist, right, and if you’re with me so far, you swing it into your enemy’s head. Hey, Ashida. What are we doing here, man? Did you write the first ninja book for squids? How are you introducing the very concept of bashing someone with a human hand 67 moves into your deathmatch book? This was 1985. Did you think your readers were watching Knight Rider and saying, “He’s getting out of his talking car and, my god, what is he doing to that man with his haaaand!? Wait, I know! I’ll find a book on it at my local thrown stars shoppe!”

This punching section gets dumber, but dumb in a way we can use. Here’s his POWER PUNCH training advice:

So after introducing you to “punch,” Ashida tells you to “practice it a few times” with hate in your heart, but a careful kind of hate. It’s ridiculous and stupid, but it lets us establish how long Ashida Kim thinks it takes to prepare for battle. A typical boxing coach might have you train twice a week for six months before your first amateur bout. That’s roughly 75 hours of training and maybe 60,000 punches. Again, Ashida Kim is an idiot con-man who no one could possibly take seriously, but if you did, this proves he’s sending his readers into death matches with approximately .00005% the training of the least experienced boxer imaginable. That being said, boxers train far less in cape dancing, so in a straight style-versus-style matchup things might even out.

When I bought a guide to Ninja mind control and saw it was actually about how to tear a phone book in half I felt the same way you would: oh fucking hell yeah.

As Ashida Kim mentions, you might see this kind of DRAGON CLAW technique from a Black Dragon ryu Ninja, which translates to Black Dragon dragon Ninja because everything about this is awesome. To learn this move, what you want to do is grab a book with your hands and rip that shit in half. It’s useful for disposing of junk mail or rupturing the rectus abdominis, but you can also use it to squeeze the consciousness out of a man’s skull. I use this for everything now. Let the record show, if you ever find a dead body and it wasn’t ripped in half by a man’s hands, I didn’t do it.

A mind is easier to control if it has no eyes. Let’s learn the DOUBLE THUMB GOUGE.

The sequence of events is unclear, but I think you take off your Ninja mask and make a scary face before you remove their eyes. Otherwise this would be silly. And it’s not silly. It’s a deadly serious manual for invisible warriors written by an unconvicted mass murderer and sex spy.

One element of Ninja mind control known only to the Black Dragon ryu clan is called “SAND IN THE EYES.” Its only known defense is the blindfold, and before you get any ideas, Ashida Kim, I’m already wearomg ome.

Ninja Mind Control says SAND IN THE EYES is great for beginner Ninjas because it’s hard to fuck up, and if you do, you can just leave. Unless they have glasses or eyelids and run faster than you. I think we might need to have a backup plan in case our cape draping, fist-swinging, shin kicking, or sand throwing don’t work. Let’s learn COIN TOSS.

This one is pretty much what it sounds like, Ninjas– gently tossing your enemies whatever they ask for.

So if you are ever mugged, presumably in your Ninja costume, what you want to do, as a silent master of the impossible, is, in the great tradition of your Mighty Ancestors, pay them to not kick your ass. If you keep your cash in gold coins, great, that means you can also try throwing your treasure into the air and running away. Ha. Good luck beating you up while everyone is scrambling to get your coveted Ninja treasure. Sorry, I’m already gloating for you and I haven’t even shown you the full technique. Study Figures 57 and 58 until your surrender form is perfect. Then see below to learn how to be a total little baby coward, even in your wildest fantasies, with a partner:

For advanced COIN TOSS practitioners, try adding an asthmatic whine or urination. And you’re going to want to practice saying, “Hnngh! You can have anything, just let me live, you bandit!” until you’ve removed all sexual suggestion from it. Or vice versa, naughty Ninja.

If you knew anything about ninjas, you already knew MONKEY STEALS THE PEACH was going to be number one.

It’s the classical name for the upward groin slap. Here’s how you apply it to your training partner’s balls:

This move will tear a dick off, and it tells a real story about how often Ashida Kim uses his dick when he explains, “if you happen to have energy blast powers this could also be an effective way to hurt someone.” He probably has handfuls of genitals in his garage and tells his cats, “I don’t know what these things do, but they sure do come off easy!” Hey, why are you still reading this? I just taught you 11 ways to Ninja mind control. Go take the night, silent dick ripper.


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Rich Joslin, fingerblasting master of the Monkey Peach Ryu style.

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PUNCHING DAY

Punching Day: Stag Mag Cover Paintings

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Punching Day: Man Sports Comics! 🌭

Behold, men! The first issue of an exciting new series of athletic action: Man Sports Comics! It’s everything we men love about men! It’s everything we men need about men! Give us men, you men said, and this man answered! MAN! MAN!! MAN!!! MAN!!!! MAN SPORTS COMICS!!!!!


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PUNCHING DAY

Punching Day: The Fashion of Marked for Death 🌭

The first thing you must understand about Steven Seagal’s Marked for Death is that Steven Seagal grifted his movie career into existence by giving one of Hollywood’s most powerful agents a karate lesson.

The second thing you must understand about Steven Seagal’s Marked for Death is that it features no martial arts whatsoever.

The final thing you must understand about Steven Seagal’s Marked for Death is that it is a remarkable showcase of the worst clothing ever made, all of which is worn by Steven Seagal.

To the first point – Steven Seagal is a fake martial artist who forced audiences to agree he was an action star by blunt force. He released so many movies between 1988 and 1992 that the world bent to his will, lest it be subjected to an even more rapid release schedule. Indeed, Marked for Death and Hard to Kill burst unbidden into theaters within the same eight month period of 1990, a year in which the fourth highest-grossing film was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which features more martial arts action than the entirety of Steven Seagal’s filmography. However, Steven Seagal eats way more pizza.

To the second point – Despite being an action star and self-described expert of aikido, a vaguely-defined martial art that seems to be more about chill vibes than performing decapitating tornado kicks, Steven Seagal tries as hard as he can to move as little as possible in every single one of his movies. He has less mobility as a 37-year-old karate DEA agent in Marked for Death than a sculpture of Steven Seagal in a Serbian wax museum. Watching a Steven Seagal movie for the action scenes is like watching an erotic thriller on Nickelodeon – the good parts never come and you are too bored to call the police. 

To the third point – Steven Seagal wears a selection of outfits in Marked for Death that can only have been assembled from his own shallow closet. No other human being would choose these clothes for him. He personally selected each garment to accurately reflect his inner aikido master. They are the clothes of a dipshit, a man-child who has spent several thousand dollars on infomercial throwing stars.

As an exploration of the second and third points, I am going to take you through the major scenes of Marked for Death with an eye towards Steven Seagal’s unique talent of deflating every room with his baffling acting choices and unshakeable defiance in the face of doing any actual karate, and his tremendous array of douchebag costumes, which he 100% brought from home. I will be grading these things on a scale of 1 to 5 Tiger Manfaces, a metric that will make absolutely no sense until it suddenly does. 

Marked for Death combines Steven Seagal’s two biggest loves – pretending to know martial arts and being extremely racist. The movie succeeds so well at that second thing that a message appears during the end credits, explaining to the audience that not all Jamaican people are murderous, drug-dealing sorcerers. 

Straight out of the gate, we’re hit with a steel drum foot chase through the streets of Columbia. Steven Seagal is unable to make this sequence thrilling, because he runs like a toddler in a baton race. It is not merely his default setting, but his only setting. Still, he tries his best to get the audience excited by shoving people out of the way that aren’t even in his path. He practically runs over to people just so he can shove them down.

The man he is chasing is future Hollywood icon Danny Trejo, who attempts to thwart Steven Seagal’s pursuit by pushing over a cart of tamales. Steven Seagal cannot abide that mistreatment of street food, and he expresses his displeasure by getting hit by a station wagon.

It seems like Danny Trejo is getting away, but Steven Seagal uses his aikido magic to teleport in front of him and kick him in the stomach. It’s not a graceful martial arts kick, but the kick of a man trying to dislodge a candy bar from a vending machine. We have arrived at the first of Steven Seagal’s aikido outfits. 

He is wearing multiple layers because Steven Seagal always layers up like a 1980s It Girl. The centerpiece of this ensemble is a satin jacket with white trim, commonly known as “a little league jacket” or “a coat for children.” He’s wearing a beaded half hoop earring in one ear, like an open mic guitarist who just got out of the Navy. 

Beneath the jacket, Steven Seagal is wearing a black collared shirt tucked into black slacks. He looks like if tarmac could sexually assault people. I award this look 2 Tiger Manfaces – ridiculous, but subtle enough to bluff his way onto the judge’s table at a pre-teen karate demonstration without anyone suspecting he intends to challenge the winner to a bo staff duel.

Steven Seagal interrogates Danny Trejo in the trunk of his car. Danny Trejo is the finest actor in this scene because he has to pretend that he can’t just pummel Steven Seagal into hamburger meat at the slightest provocation. Danny Trejo has actually seen shit. Steven Seagal is a California aerobics instructor pretending he knows karate.

Steven Seagal then slaps the shit out of his partner for taking his eyes off of Danny Trejo, even though his partner caught up to Danny Trejo without getting hit by a station wagon. We are four minutes into this film and Steven Seagal has slapped three of the four actors he has spoken to. 

Danny Trejo tells Steven Seagal and his partner about a deal with Salazar, who is a man with a bolo tie and one leg up on a school desk. The deal goes bad and a man in suspenders threatens Steven Seagal with a sword.

Steven Seagal, sensing that we are dangerously close to witnessing a genuine action scene, easily takes the sword away from the guy and chops one goon’s hand off. Then he bonks suspenders guy on the head with the sword and kicks him through a mirror. Then a third guy comes running up and Seagal sidesteps him through a table in slow motion. He does a prancing karate dance, presumably to distract us from the fact that he has yet to do any karate. 

A naked woman gets the drop on his partner and shoots him. Steven Seagal shoots the naked woman 12 times. That is not an exaggeration. 

Back home in Chicago, Steven Seagal is in confession. We are now presented with the second aikido outfit of the film. I call this one “the Danny Tanner.” 

He is dressed like a server at The Cheesecake Factory, or like a kid who accidentally left half of his tuxedo at the mall on his way to prom. This is a 3 Tiger Manface ensemble – he’s dressed like a Wayans brother on the red carpet at the premiere of Encino Man. He looks like a magician on a riverboat cruise. Plenty of people could pull off one or two of these items, but not all of them, and certainly not Steven Seagal.

After explaining to the priest that he is on an unquenchable quest for justice that he knows must bring him outside of the law, he rattles off his list of offenses – “I’ve just killed a woman. I’ve lied, I’ve slept with informants, I’ve taken drugs, I’ve falsified evidence, I did whatever I had to do to get the bad guys. Then I realized something. That I had become what I most despise.” Steven Seagal then leaves to go tell DEA Captain Peter Jason that he wants to retire, while the priest presumably calls the FBI.

Steven Seagal towers over Peter Jason in this scene. It looks like Seagal is standing on multiple apple boxes and Peter Jason’s legs were severed at the knee. It’s like Peter Jason is watching Kong scale the Empire State Building. Steven Seagal has claimed to be 6’5”, and while he’s visibly a tall guy, there is no way he is as tall as an NBA shooting guard. Even if he were, Peter Jason is 5’11”, and the height differential in this scene is way more than 6 inches. The fourth thing you must understand about Marked for Death  is that Steven Seagal is deeply insecure.

Seagal drives his sports car to his sister’s home in nearby suburbia, leering at some teenage cheerleaders as he enters the neighborhood. His sister is having a barbecue. A little kid runs up to say hello to him and he slaps the kid in the face. That’s just how Steven Seagal greets people in this movie, like a dog burying its nose in your crotch.

Steven Seagal goes upstairs to his room, because he apparently lives here, where a bow and loose arrows are sitting out on a desk. There is a shadow box full of guns on the wall. He sits down at his desk and wistfully repairs what appears to be a zip gun, a weapon used to murder traffic cops in the 1940s.

He shows up to the local high school football practice the following day in a velour tracksuit. 

This is an outfit worthy of 4 Tiger Manfaces. He’s dressed like a supporting character on The Sopranos.

The football coach is Steven Seagal’s old friend Keith David. He takes Keith David out to a bar, where “all the ugly girls used to work.” Because Marked for Death is a deeply unsubtle film about the scourge of recreational drug use, Keith David tells Seagal that he had a player overdose on cocaine and die the previous year. That’s a lot of cocaine, man. Too much, one might argue.

Steven Seagal’s “going out for drinks” aikido garb is the finest outfit in the entire film. 

It technically consists of several pieces, but the only one that matters is the black satin jacket with twin dragons on the front and a tiger with a human face on the back. And now my rating system makes sense. 

I cannot stress enough that Steven Seagal dresses like a 10-year-old’s definition of cool. The only people in this world who would wear that jacket out in public are me and Steven Seagal. The jacket makes several more appearances in the film.

It is his official aikido gi. I award it 15 Tiger Manfaces and my firstborn child.

Bad guys come in and start shooting up the bar. Seagal very angrily pushes a woman down to safety, like he is mad at the inconvenience. He only knows one way to touch people, and that is “with violence.” He has the opportunity to beat up one of the goons, but he opts to put the guy in an extremely slow wrist lock instead. This is his signature move, because it allows him to completely neutralize his foes while keeping 98% of his body motionless.

The Jamaicans, enraged by Steven Seagal’s involvement, drive by his sister’s house in a BMW and shoot up the place with M16s. Steven Seagal heroically dives for cover, clearing the way for his grade school niece to catch all of the bullets intended for him. She is now in a coma, and Seagal is officially Marked for Death™. We do not see his niece again or receive any updates about her condition.

Steven Seagal hits the streets to dig up information on the Jamaican boss, a guy named Screwface who practices voodoo and appears to have actual magic powers. He barges in on mid-level goon Jimmy Fingers, who is busy having sex with two women. Seagal tells them to “go find another trick” using his “cool action guy” voice, which sounds exactly like a smug dickhead, and starts questioning Jimmy. A Jamaican gang member bursts out of the bathroom to attack. 

Once again, Steven Seagal detects that we are getting uncomfortably close to an action scene, so he shoots Jimmy Fingers in the face and the gang member throws himself out of the window. The crisis has been averted. 

Steven Seagal returns to his sister’s house to discover a sinister voodoo spell, and this scene’s outfit is a true blockbuster. 

For reasons buried within his secret heart, Steven Seagal is wearing a puffy jacket, a t-shirt, and a scarf. Like a riding scarf. Like one of the Wright Brothers. I award it 3 Tiger Manfaces for its boldness.

Later that night, Steven Seagal goes to visit a sexy international voodoo expert. 

He is wearing a blazer and jeans, like he’s about to perform ten punishing minutes of stand-up comedy. They are not his finest aikido robes, but a suitably insane choice given the circumstances. I award this outfit 1 Tiger Manface.

The bad guys break in and attempt to perform a voodoo ritual on Steven Seagal’s sister, but he lightly jogs inside just in time to rescue her without throwing a single punch or kick. He decides to take the fight to them by hopping into Keith David’s Dodge Ramcharger and dispensing vigilante justice, a phrase here meaning “indiscriminately firing guns in the suburbs.”

He and Keith David get into a car chase with the bad guys and force their car through the front of a jewelry store. As a reminder, Steven Seagal is retired, and Keith David is a high school football coach. We are now 53 minutes in, and Steven Seagal has done zero martial arts. 

He dispatches several goons with an electrifying series of sidesteps and wrist locks. He does another brief karate dance, as a signal to the audience that something exciting is supposed to be happening.

One goon takes a woman hostage and Steven Seagal attempts to play it off as convincingly as a shitty-pantsed man insisting he’s never shit upon his pants. “You wanna kill her?” he taunts, telegraphing the incoming wrist lock like Western Union. “Go ahead and kill her, I don’t care. I don’t know her, I don’t know her at all.” The nail-biting standoff becomes too much for the goon to bear, and he tries to stab Steven Seagal, who whips out his signature wrist lock to the delighted applause of audiences the world over and instantly stabs him in the chest with his own knife.

Later that night, bad guys masquerading as construction workers trap Steven Seagal in his bitchin’ sports car. They try to crush him to death with a bulldozer, and he frantically slaps at the doors to try and escape. He literally slaps them, like a cat knocking over a glass of water. I have no idea why he does this, unless of course he is telling the doors “hello” in his unique Steven Seagal way.

Steven Seagal and his friends chase Screwface to Jamaica, where he whips out another fabulous aikido costume. 

He is wearing a scoop-necked tank top, a long sleeve t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a blazer. There is no reason any of those items should ever be worn at the same time. A puzzling 2 Tiger Manface ensemble.

Steven Seagal and his friends stake out Screwface’s base, where he issues silent commands to his teammates using a series of indecipherable hand gestures he clearly just invented. At no point does the movie attempt to translate his signals, because it doesn’t know what the fuck he is doing either. His comrades secure the perimeter while Steven Seagal creeps inside and is instantly captured, a development made exponentially more hilarious by the black ops outfit he bought at Party City (1 inverted Tiger Manface).

Once again, Steven Seagal comes dangerously close to performing an action scene. He grabs three goons with a single wrist lock and flips them to the floor but forgets to let go of the guy’s arm and briefly loses his balance. It is very, very funny.

He skips around the room, dealing out sidesteps and arm locks, until no goons are left standing. It is almost impressive how little fighting he has managed to do in his martial arts action movie.

Screwface takes one stab at Seagal that he easily sidesteps. Then he takes the sword from Screwface, flips it into his dick, and cuts his head off. It is both anticlimactic and the coolest thing that has happened in Marked for Death so far.

Steven Seagal and his friends return to Screwface’s lair in Chicago to tell the rest of the bad guys that their boss is slain. Seagal is now wearing a third satin jacket and an overcoat. 

He looks like a John Hughes character performing community service as a condition of his parole. He compulsively layers his outfits. He looks like if Silent Bob got really into rain sticks. I award this aikido lewk 3 Tiger Manfaces and 1 Pirate Radio DJ.

But in a genuine twist, Screwface’s twin brother appears for a final boss fight. It turns out that Screwface wasn’t really a voodoo wizard; he was just two guys. He was Parent Trapping the streets of Chicago.

Screwface 2 proceeds to beat the hell out of a stuntman in a Steven Seagal wig. 

Not pictured: Steven Seagal.

Then they have a sword fight, which should be awesome, but Seagal holds the sword like he is afraid he’s going to drop it. He looks like he’s posing for the cover of a terrible NES game.

The sword fight ends almost as quickly as it began. Steven Seagal gouges Screwface 2’s eyes out, breaks him over his knee like Bane, and throws him down an elevator shaft to be impaled on a chest-hollowing spike. 

It’s my favorite moment in any Steven Seagal film. I award it 11 Tiger Manfaces and 1 Astonished Kevin Dunn.

Having single-handedly won the war on drugs, Steven Seagal and Keith David limp out of the lair and walk off into the night. And then the credits roll. Did his niece wake up from her coma? Did she get the surgery she needed? Who gives a shit? This is Marked for Death. 6 Tiger Manfaces and 1 Bullet-Riddled Niece.

Tom Reimann is the co-founder of the podcast and streaming network Gamefully Unemployed, where he is currently making a badass tiger jacket out of unsold merchandise from the import store at the mall.


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Andreas Larsson, who wears a jacket of a tiger-faced man and is also the opposite of Steven Seagal in every other way.

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PUNCHING DAY

Punching Day: The Hidden Mustache in Predator 🌭

Predator is an important movie to me, and indeed to many children raised by muscles and aliens and explosions in the decade when VCRs first began stealing food from the mouths of hungry babysitters. A landmark of beefcake cinema, Predator is primarily a movie about being vascular and sweaty in the jungle. But in many ways, it is also a film about several future politicians who would all essentially roleplay their Predator characters during their respective gubernatorial bids.

Without question, the most important element of Predator is hubristic action figure excess. It’s like watching a kid who just learned swear words after enduring his parents’ divorce play with G.I. Joes in the backseat of a Camaro with all the windows rolled up. One of the film’s most iconic images occurs within the first five minutes: Arnold Schwarzenegger and Carl Weathers violently locking hands in a glisteningly muscular greeting, the thunderclap of their palms meeting sending out a shockwave so powerful it knocks me further down the Kinsey scale like a rudderless ship in a hurricane every time I watch it. 

Right up front, Predator wants you to know it is a movie about the burliest dudes in recorded history getting together to do some serious Man Shit in the jungle. Also, Shane Black is there; beefcakes must always keep at least one string bean nerd in their numbers to handle all the logistics, like making the necessary travel arrangements and ensuring everyone has made the proper deductions on their tax returns. Like a brave canary, he is the first to be killed.

Because Predator is an action film made in the 1980s, it begins with our team of heroic marble statues getting hired by the C.I.A. to invade a fictional Central American country to prevent the spread of Communism. The first half of the movie is so focused on these gigantic slabs annihilating scores of hapless insurgents that you could shut the movie off at the 40-minute mark and live the rest of your life having no idea that Predator is about an alien monster that kills earthlings for sport. 

The biggest hint of science fiction contained within that blessed first third of movie is how an elite squad of comMANdoes with the combined weight of more than one elephant could ride in a helicopter without it plunging into the Earth’s core moments after takeoff. The movie ends with a montage of candid footage of each actor, alternately laughing and flexing in celebration of the joyous time they spent together as Jungle Dudez toppling regimes in the name of capitalism.

The point I’m making here is, Predator’s deafeningly violent war on subtlety is the most defining of its many characteristics, which is what makes this guy’s lip stand out like Robosaurus in the drive-thru line at In-N-Out Burger.

R.G. Armstrong, playing a character allegedly named General Phillips according to the aforementioned credits montage although I have seen this movie roughly eleven-hundred times and you cannot convince me his name isn’t simply “War Grandpa,” is sporting a mustache so thin I legitimately did not notice it until Predator came out on DVD and I saw it for the first time without the characteristic grain of tobacco stains and hundreds of rewinds unique to rental videocassettes of the era. The ghostly whisp of facial hair haunting this man’s face was so slight that I never saw it over a decade of regular viewings. Predator, a film so averse to half-measures that it ends with Arnold Schwarzenegger diving out of the way of a nuclear explosion, somehow features an actor who felt his character of Grizzled Old Soldier would be better realized by the hypnotic suggestion of a mustache. It’s like Don Ameche suddenly appearing to seduce elderly widows in the middle of Michael Bay’s Transformers.

There’s a clear hierarchy of facial hair in Predator. Sitting comfortably at the top are Carl Weathers and Jesse Ventura, sporting the kinds of bushy ticklers required to wear khaki pants in the 1980s. There was a two-week waiting period if you bought a convertible during the Reagan administration, during which you were handed a photo of Carl Weathers’ mustache and sent home to cultivate the proper lip ornament before the dealership would hand over the keys. 

Below them on the mustache totem pole sits Arnold Schwarzenegger’s rugged five o’clock shadow, a compromise I believe was reached after all parties agreed that the sight of Arnold sporting a full Selleck would’ve knocked the planet off its axis. Meanwhile, Mac is so clean-shaven that he literally carves the flesh off his face with a safety razor.

But then, in slides R.G. Armstrong with his cat burglar sandpaper strip, representing the only understated choice in the entire production. Not only is his mustache understated, but it is so understated that I literally could not see it until dawn broke on the year 2000 and we embraced digital video like the apes circling the monolith at the beginning of 2001. Similarly, I have beaten several people to death with bone clubs since discovering Armstrong’s mustache, so frenzied is my obsession.

As you can see, it’s not totally invisible – there is a telltale shimmer.

What does the faded memory of lip hair on General Phillips’ face mean? Is it a cowardly display of fealty to the moist beefcakes thundering past him towards their jungle destiny like a wildebeest stampede, leaving him behind, discarded and forgotten, like Mufasa’s corpse? Does his gossamer-thin face warmer belie a sad truth about his character: a proud warrior, past his prime, too old to join in the fight against Communism and aliens but pitiably clinging to his last remaining participation badge by desperately shouting, “Hey guys, I have a mustache too”? Is this the decaying shadow of former glory? Did Sting’s “Fields of Gold” play in his mind when he trimmed it?

Or is it a bold power move? According to modern philosopher and 9-11/moon landing truther Marion Cotillard in The Dark Knight Rises, it is the slow knife which cuts the deepest. It took me nearly half my life to spot the shimmering, nigh-invisible wraith on R.G. Armstrong’s face. I cannot conceive of a slower knife than that. Somewhere, deep in his old, useless bones, General Phillips knew that his weird combover-adjacent mustache would have the last laugh. “I may be lost in a sea of beefcakes now, in the year 1987,” he arguably said to himself. “But years from now, in the year 2022 to be exact, people on something called ‘the internet’ will revisit this day and finally notice me. They’ll see me for the grand peacock that I am and raise their voices in unison to ask the universe a single unanswerable question: ‘What the fuck is on that guy’s face?’”

Flinging the Predator DVD into my compatible playback device like a Busey-sectioning smart disc and discovering that ethereal nose cape for the first time was like stumbling into an unexpected summer romance on a riverboat gambling cruise with your legal guardians. Never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted it. It’s like doing a word search on the back of a cereal box and accidentally decoding a message from the Zodiac killer. In a movie about an invisible demon on safari, the real apparition was the powdered sugar landing strip painted on this wizened old soldier’s leathery face. I award War Grandpa’s insidious mustache with 17 salutes from Carl Weathers’ severed arm, on a scale of zero to whatever number I just wrote.

Tom Reimann is the co-founder of the podcast and streaming network Gamefully Unemployed, where he has been sporting an undetectable mustache for well over a decade.


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme, John Dean: Who also has a secret mustache and you will never guess where.

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