Magic Mike: The American Dream

Happy Fourth of July, bitches. I trust that my all fellow Americans are having a grand, ole American time enjoying family, friends, freedom, and staring bemused at Jeff Goldblum wielding a laptop computer with a mobile phone attached, I repeat, attached to it. I know I am. Yes, I have no doubt this is happening in homes across America as far as AMC programming can reach. Outside, I hear the occasional pop and blast of distant fireworks. Although I am happily typing on my computer and enjoying the physiological effects of ice cream, beer, and spaghetti bolognese, perhaps I need to celebrate this day of independence with a little more fervor and enthusiasm. Perhaps it is the boundless wisdom I have acquired in my wizened twenty-four years that has prompted me to appreciate the little things in life. Then again, perhaps it is the stirring sound of President Bill Pullman's voice blasting out of the living room that fills me with hope and pride.

One of the little things I am grateful for that America has given me is the gift of Magic Mike. Oh yes, last weekend, America gave me the gift of Magic Mike, and I eagerly accepted this gift. Thank you, America. This is the national treasure that even Nicolas Cage cannot snatch. Jenna's post-wedding posse and I journeyed out into a night that would change our lives forever. At least for about two hours. It was a night that transported me back to my splash-zone seat at Thunder from Down Under, and a night that reminded me to be thankful for my health, home, and Ginuine's incomparable hit, "Pony."

Never before has a film inspired me to enter all domains henceforth in a flurry of smoke and laser lights.  And why not? I believe that all Americans, nay, all peoples from all corners of the world should have the privilege of crossing a threshold shrouded in smoke and laser lights. Going to work? Smoke and lights! Getting on the train? Smoke and lights! Going to Luby's? Smoke and lights with minimal flashing so as not to induce seizures. Not since Harry Potter have I heard such spirited cheers and colorful comments from the audience and have aforementioned cheers and comments met with equally zealous cries of approval and agreement. Everyone in the audience was cordial and respectful of one another. We were respectful because there was a greater agenda at hand, an agenda that united us as a people, and it involved disrespecting a man in a thong.  Magic Mike took me to church, and when the preacher shouted, "Get it, girl!" I cried, "Amen!

Much like church, I left the holy gathering feeling cleansed and spiritually uplifted. I was reminded of what is important in life, to not stress out about silly things like designer purses, grown-up jobs, and whether or not Chad will think I'm pretty at our high school reunion. In our short time on Earth (which would have been even shorter if Will Smith hadn't saved us), we need to spend more time enjoying ourselves and less time worrying. Why is this fireman not seeking out the source of all this smoke? Don't worry about it, he's not going to be a fireman anymore once the uniform comes off. Why is Matt Bomer still wearing socks while he gyrates atop a woman on a gurney? Details, baby, details. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

I highly recommend Magic Mike. It is an inspirational film that teaches life lessons of appreciation, motivation, and acceptance. Upon viewing it, I appreciated the wide assortment of men presented to me in such pristine physical condition. Then I was motivated to work hard in life so as to be able to afford a plaster bust of Matthew McConaughey's head and matching oil painting to adorn my future house with. In the end, I realized that Channing Tatum is about as eloquent as Independence Day is realistic... and I accepted that.