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I Hate You Don Coscarelli. I Hate You So Much.

First off, the situation in which I envisioned meeting Bruce Campbell would be like, and what it was actually like, were two different things. That's not to say I was disappointed -- hardly -- it just wasn't what I expected. Never having been to the Landmark Theatre in Cambridge before, I guess what I was seeing in my head was a scene out of Forrest Gump; where Jenny was singing nude behind the guitar in front of a crowd of 20 or 30 people. Not that I didn't want to see Bruce naked and playing guitar per say, but just that's what I imagined the size of the theatre and the crowd would be like. I hope that doesn't sound too homoerotic. But when I got to the theatre and picked up my tickets, I quickly realized it was a regular sized movie theatre. Bruce had originally planned on doing a Q&A after the two evening shows, one at 7:00pm and the other at 9:45pm. I'm glad I was smart enough to buy tickets in advance, because by the time we showed up at 6:30 to get good seats for the 7:00pm showing, it was already sold out. As was the 9:45, and the 7:30 that was hastily added to the schedule to accommodate the unexpectedly large crowds. In fact, the only tickets on sale were for a fourth showing the following day, also added last minute. So I guess I was glad for Bruce that the interest in meeting him and seeing the premiere of his new film was more than the corporate ghouls had expected. That was cool.

Inside the theatre me and the four guys I went with -- myself and Mike being the two biggest Campbell fans among us -- sat among the other, oh I dunno, 250 odd people or so. We got there early enough to grab seats smack dab in the middle of the fucking theatre, and the crowd quickly packed in around us. Honestly, I was shocked at how strong the turnout was. I pulled my flask from my back pocket and after dumping some Jack Daniels into my $10 small Coke, passed my flask down the line. It returned a minute later as dry as the Sahara Desert; thanks you fuckers. All around me were people chit chatting about meeting Bruce. Excitement was in the air, baby! And right before they dimmed the lights to start the movie, a theatre employee announced that Bruce would indeed be making an appearance after the film for some Q&A; but he wouldn't be singing any autographs. I was a little bummed, but Flaherty warned me of this ahead of time after he read it on one of the websites. Foiled was my plan for a stick of Old Spice and a Sharpie marker. Anyway, down go the lights and we start the flick.

How was it? Dude, it's a fucking Bruce Campbell film. Of course it was awesome! And it was cheesy! Dare I say, deliciously cheesy. Bruce was given ample opportunities for his stinging one liners, becomes the reluctant hero, kills the bad guy, and nails the girl. All in all it was exactly what I expected, which is to say, it was fucking awesome. If you're a Bruce Campbell fan, you simply can not miss this film. Go see it no matter where it's showing. Sell your ipod, sell your mother, take a cab, sell your soul. Do whatever it takes. Just get there. I don't want to spoil it for any of you, just trust me when I say you won't be disappointed.

After the flick ended and the lights came on, of course everyone's head was on a swivel looking for the man with the strong jaw to step forward and make our lives worth living. And to the roar of the crowd, he did. I couldn't believe it. I was sitting in the same theatre. As Bruce Fucking Campbell. He wore a dark jacket over blue jeans, and had glasses on. This last part kind of threw me for a bit since you never see him with glasses in any of his roles. But as soon as he spoke, I knew it was Him. Bruce Fucking Campbell. I immediately regretted choosing seats in the middle of the theatre which on one hand, afforded me the opportunity to really enjoy the movie, but the guys in the front row really knew what they were doing. Movie be damned, Bruce was actually standing in arm's reach of them. I also realized that despite how cool it is, my cameraphone sucks cock in low light conditions.

Bruce went through a little what's what on the movie; where it was filmed, how he picked the cast, how he came up with the idea. And then the moment we were all waiting for -- he opened up for question! And you know what, not a single hand at first. I think everyone else was just as dumb struck as I was to be in the presence of his Greatness. But after a few silent seconds, a hand shot up and we were rolling. Question after question fired off like machine gun fire, bouncing from one side of the packed theatre to the other. I had a question, but like a giddy schoolgirl, was too shy to ask it. I mean fuck, he might actually call on me and then what the fuck would I do! But as Bruce handled each question with lighthearted humor, questions about an Army of Darkness sequel, and film school, and Sam Raimi, and his cameo experiences... I began to realize that I would never forgive myself if I didn't ask. And so I did. As Bruce was finishing one particularly long winded question, everyone else's hands slowly came down because they got tired of holding them up. Not me baby, not me. My arm stayed as long and erect as when I was a kid watching Madonna's "Open Your Heart To Me" video. And it paid off.

Bruce Fucking Campbell. Called on me. And again I found myself in a situation where my mind raced through two hours worth of deep thinking in a matter of mere milliseconds. Oh Jesus Christ, what if he thinks my question is stupid? What if everyone laughs at me? What if I talk too fast and jumble my words? What if I go mute? Maybe I should try and look smart by asking a two-parter? Where's the nearest liquor store to refill my flask? Do I stand up? What the fuck do I do? But in the end my question came out loud and clear, and I didn't jumble my words like a fucking moron. I asked Bruce if there was any truth to the rumor that Ron Perlman would be taking over his role as Elvis in the Bubba Hotep sequel, Bubba Nostferatu. My answer was bittersweet. On one hand, well, Bruce Fucking Campbell was talking to me. Yet on the other, he gave me the answer that I had most feared; yes it was true. Bruce explained that he and the director Don Coscarelli couldn't come to term son the script, and thus Bruce bowed out of the project. Hands shot up again and he moved on to next question. I didn't know what to do. I just sat there. I couldn't believe it. Bruce Fucking Campbell spoke. To me.

A little on down the line of questions, some fucking ass clown asked Bruce why he thought he was never chosen for roles in A-rated movies, but could only get B-rated roles. Bruce politely told him to shut the fuck up, much to the delight of the crowd who both cheered and booed the embarrassed question asker. Also as a side note, Bruce's love interest in My Name Is Bruce is played by Grace Thorsen, and she looks so-so in the movie, but she was there in person and when Bruce called her up to field some questions? I've got three words for you: Hubba. Fucking. Hubba.

The Q&A lasted about half an hour and could have gone on for much longer, but Bruce had to make an appearance in the other theatre to speak to the 7:30 crowd. Everyone graciously gave Bruce a roaring standing ovation as he and Grace Thorsen made their way up from the front of the theatre. As I clapped so hard my hands hurt, I quickly realized that Bruce would be walking right past me. Well, not really right past me, as there were a few people in my way. Mainly Flahety, Frank and Mike. And as Bruce was about ten or fifteen feet from my row, I decided to go for it. I threw an elbow into Flaherty's rib cage so quickly I heard him gasp, and leaned in hard into Frank's shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards into his seat. "Get the fuck out of my way, or I'll fucking kill you," I whispered loud enough for them to hear, and yet not loud enough to alarm Bruce who was only a few steps away. Yes, the Bourbon was strong in me. I didn't have to push past Mike because he already had the same idea as I did and had already began clearing a path. And as Bruce made his way up the aisle and past my row; my hand shot out like that erect Madonna penis again. "I love you Bruce," I shouted, but I don't know for sure if he heard me over the noise of the crowd. And looking back, I can't say that I really gave Bruce any choice because I was kind of in his way, but he quickly shook my hand with a hastened smile and continued past me towards the exit. I couldn't believe it. Bruce Fucking Campbell. Shook my hand.

Be it known that November 7, 2008 is and forever will be the greatest day of my life. I left the theatre that night determined to either step in front of a cab, or at the very least, throw myself in front of an oncoming T train. I mean what the fuck, how could my life get any better than this? And if it wasn't so close to LBEH, I probably would stepped right off the Kendell Square T platform and onto that rushing squealing hunk of rolling steel. But as I sat there, I reasoned that since so many folks are counting on me for airplane tickets home, ending things right then and there wouldn't be fair to them. But what about my hand? Sure I could never wash it again, but eventually I'd have to touch a door or plate or something and forever ruin it's Bruceness. And so I did the next best thing. To the horror and dismay of my friends -- I swear on my mother's grave -- I shoved my hand down my pants and cradled my cock for a few seconds. I couldn't believe it. Bruce Fucking Campbell. Gave me a handjob.

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