If Keanu Reeves is some kind of Don Quixote for our times, Bruce Willis is definitely the Bruce Willis for all time. He is an icon that bears no other copy. Bruce Willis is the MAN. Like Arnold with hasta la vista baby, Bruce put wacky lines like yippee-kay-yay motherfucker into the common language. He’s the only actor I know that can combine outright pathos with sheer idiotic lunacy with one sideways squint. Who else could dump his wife for a teenager and make his wife follow suit? Who else could outshine Alan Rickman in the deadpan department? Who else could make Armageddon watchable? Who else lampooned his own franchise with a movie as schleppingly bad as Hudson Hawk? Why it’s Willis, Bruce Willis! He, along with Jean-Luc Picard and the immortal Telly Savales, put bald men back on the sex market. But only Willis erased the combover as an option.

Of course he’s turned into utter crap since that dumb-ass Night guy got his hands on him to play the dead guy foil to a septuagenarian pre-teen with mental problems. I want to crush Shabalam’s puny head for ruining the Willis light. Luckily, redemption is in sight. If Live Free or Die Hard crashes and burns, which it might since that sure is one dumbass title, and it stars the ever wooden Timothy Olyphant, I might be regret all of this. But if they can come up with lines as good as this title (from the first Die Hard), we’re right back where we belong. If only Mitch Hedberg was around to write for him.

John McClane: Hey, Carmine, let me ask you something. What sets off the metal detectors first? The lead in your ass or the shit in your brains?

So, I found out today that not only was Edith Piaf born at the Hospital Tenon at the end of my street, Serge Gainsbourg was born in the building just a couple of numbers down from me! Two french legends on my tiny little street in the 20th. I always knew the area was flooded with artists but hot damn, that’s two biggies! We’ve also passed several aged actors which Benoit has seen fit to goggle at, being the expert of ancient French history that he is, but I’ve never crossed Vincent Cassel and Monica Belucci, who apparently live next to Pere Lachaise. I mean I know I’ll never cross Romain Duris in this area, the way I managed to catch his wink at the Perle, but at least I have a view on top of the mountain and a nudge away from famous dead people.