A lot of people have been coming down on Tom Cruise lately. I’m not sure what that’s about – probably just a bunch of rumor, hearsay and conjecture – and since I don’t normally like to truck in nonsense, I won’t respond. In my experience talk is usually just that – words made up, and then said by a mouth, that sometimes sound funny and British, but not always. But, before you judge a man, I think you owe it to him to look at where he came from. Here are the FACTS:
This is a guy who landed in New York City with NOTHING, who pulled himself up from the streets to make it in one of the most competitive fields there is. That’s right, the ultra competitive world of professional-sexy-bartending. And let me set the record straight, this isn’t anything like what your simpleton cousin did to pay his way through half a year of culinary school. That guy served drinks. Tom served up a nearly sadistic level of unbridled ecstasy to women in perms, one glass at a time, every damn night of the week. Bartending? Try ballet. Ballet mixed with performance art. Ballet mixed with performance art meets brash political statement. That’s a FACT.
What the untrained eye saw as “mere bottle pouring” was in reality a seduction- his fingers danced along the delicate necks of bottles drenched in condensation and sin, but mainly condensation. (That was due to a faulty cooler.)
What you saw as “just a bottle whirling through the air” was actually a siren call for the working class masses, urging them from their suburban safety to the rocky shores of vice. In short, it was a metaphor for coming of age, with little pieces of ice on it. And maybe a plastic monkey.
What you saw as a “twisty, spinning around and catching a beer move” was actually… okay, that was just a twisty, spinning around and catching a beer move. But it was cool and we – America – ate it up with a lime chaser.
All indications were that this man had the talent to go all the way to the top. Those of you familiar with just how cutthroat the NYC sexy-tender scene is know what a great feat that is. The best are basically given the key to the city. And no, dummy, it doesn’t actually unlock all the doors, it’s generally a symbolic key. But maybe this one would unlock actual doors?
We’ll never know. He walked away. He. Walked. Away.
Why? He’d found his calling. It was a phone calling, from Uncle Sam, who was like, “Hey Tom,” and then, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. That’s right, Tom decided to serve his country. Frankly, that alone is enough to earn my respect.
Have you ever served? It’s not all shooting and getting shot and clutching the dying like the movies tell you, no sir. Often it’s day after day of sensual showers, slow shirt-buttoning at dusk in front of a just off camera fan, and volleyball. Mainly it’s projecting watered down toughness twenty-four-seven from behind a mirrored pair of Ray-Bans. The end result? He kept this country safe from Val Kilmer for ninety minutes, which is eleven more minutes than anyone else ever has. Then his buddy Goose died. He loved Goose and it made him quit the military, but not before he went to law court and had to yell fight with Col. Jack Nicholson. Yup, the same Jack Nicholson who eats lunches on a wall and handles the truth so easily you’d think they were lies.
I can hear you non-believers snickering “Well, it’s not like he also found the time to become a champion race car driver!” Boy, are you about to feel like an idiot, because that’s exactly what he did. In fact, according to Drivercar legend Rowdy Burns, “He could’ve been the best, damn it!”
Then he fought aliens. Yes, the outer space kind. And… hung around a football guy? And also he did some kind of missions? I don’t know, a buddy told me about that stuff. I didn’t look at it with my own eyeballs so it’s tough for me to vouch for it. The point is, even with only what I could verify, Tom Cruise done enough.
The man is a legend and an icon and beyond reproach. I bet you can’t even pour a drink that’s average amounts of sexy, never mind one sexy enough to turn a four hundred year old lady mummy into a Swamp Thing, with enough left over to jump start a stalled car. How dare you besmirch a man capable of such heights?
To sum up: Team Cruise