Whatchoo talking about Willis?

I never thought that Bruce Willis would ever do anything to make me fall out of love with him. But you know what that French bird told that mouse in An American Tail. Never say never, Henri told Fival never say never. I just watched Hostage where Willis plays a negotiator who becomes negotiated and does at least 32 unnecessary things that put the lives of no less than 97 people on the line so that he can find him self in the middle of no more than four minutes of action movie action (of which twelve seconds are admittedly pretty cool.) I know I know Bruce Willis didn’t write the movie… but look, he’s a big, big star and he should know that playing a character who’s pathos is over explained and under explored just makes you look old. I will concede to the fact that he stripped down to his underwear… but the underwear he wore was a set of boxer shorts so large they looked like a pair of jam pants (and if he was only worried about his Huey Lewis showing I’m sure he would have taken a page from his ex-wife’s well endowed new husband and just worn two pairs of tiddy-whities.) The horrendous choice of role (and underwear) was bad enough, but I could forgive this laps in sex symbol status decision making, but Bruce had to go and tear down that fourth wall by being in a movie where he plays a father to a daughter played by his own real life daughter. Bruce Willis I don’t want to think about in any other context than as that strong silent type who rescues me from my every day life and delivers me to a state of unparallel sexual gratification. The thought of you having children and, on top of that, being a father tables the whole fantasy (and not in a take me on the table sort of way.) I pray to God that renaming my vibrators will reverse the damage watching this movie has done. Though something deep inside tells me its not going to be that easy.