When there’s too much estrogen in the air and melodramatic outbursts (chick flicks not included), there’s only one thing that zips through my mind, which, I think, could perfectly level off the teeming estrogen and stay the feeling of asphyxiation and rising annoyance. Testosterone – that hormone in men that have them slugging it out with each other mano y mano and talking straight to the point (well, most of the time). It’s difficult enough having to endure one’s hormonal ups and downs and petty, catty women who truly undermine the work of feminists; the difficulty raises a few notches when you have to wrestle with whiny people and their estrogenic histrionics that you just want to flee from the insanity. I escaped to Mega Bekasi to watch men throw knives, dodge bullets, shoot without hesitation, torch docks in the isle of Vilena, exchange quips and kiss-and-make-up as men would. The Expendables, which secured the top spot as the number one movie in US and Canada theaters with earnings of US$34.8 million reported Yahoo.com, staved the infuriating nonsense emanating from non-thinking individuals that were orbiting my solar system.

Aside: I haven’t forgotten the philosophical underpinnings of machismo (read: patriarchal balderdash and other non sequitur beliefs) in The Expendables. Nonetheless, watching veteran action stars Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Jet Li et al strut their stuff kept the inanities at bay even for an hour and 35 minutes.


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