Cru Jones Society

So I’m getting ready this morning and somehow despite feeling like I fell out of a dog’s ass when I woke up, I’m set to go quicker than usual. Having a few spare minutes for once, I happily plop down on the couch for some early morning television.

Not feeling like staring at Al Roker’s smiley ass this morning, I cruise the digital movie channels and what do I find? Booya! Top Gun is on! I can’t think of a better way to start my Friday morning. Planes! Motorcycles! Kenny Loggins music! Homoerotic beach volleyball! What could be better?!

So what happens?

I come in right at the scene where Iceman acts like an idiotic prick during the final Top Gun training exercise causing Maverick to fly through his jet wash. Flat spin ensues. Goose punches them out and crashes into the canopy which hadn’t yet cleared. Goose is dead. And now I’m depressed.

Talk about your all-time backfires. Goose is the glue of Top Gun. Without him, the movie isn’t half as good and we’re missing damn near all the quotable lines. His death ranks as one of the All-Time Top 3 Most Depressing Movie Deaths with Hooch from Turner & Hooch and Jim Brown in The Dirty Dozen.

And now all I can think about is Tom Skerritt talking to Tom Cruise in his underwear telling him he’s got to “let him go.” What the fuck, Tom Skerritt? It’s been a matter of hours since Goose died and you want Maverick to let him go? Why don’t you and your mustache go back to Picket Fences where you belong and let Maverick grieve for christ’s sake? I realize you’re a military man, but give the man some time!

I thought about this all the way to work. Not even the dulcet tones of Rise Against could shake me out of it. Goose is dead, and now I have to live with it for the rest of the day. Swell…

Hopefully Senor Limon can turn this Friday around. We’ll see.