I went back and forth on this week's topic, unsure of whether the story was unfair.

On the one hand, this guy could be nuts... Or deluded in a benign, keeps-to-himself way, and enjoying his moment in the sun... Someone who doesn't need to be cheap-shotted by some asshole in America with a deadline to meet.

On the other hand, he's a grown man who legally changed his name to Rambo.

At the very least, that should be flipped to read first "obsessed Rambo fan,"
and then "survival expert." And the quotes I've added should've been there in the first place.

Even Rambo III?

Here's the key to being the "real-life Rambo." You can't call or refer to yourself as the real life Rambo. It's that simple. The minute it becomes obvious that you desire to be seen as, um, Rambo, is the minute the whole illusion disappears.

It's like guys who call themselves "crazy."

"I'm nuts, man... I don't give a fuck. I just go off, etc. etc."

If you were really "nuts" you'd be more than content to let me discover it on my own. There'd be signs. Battered bodies, crashed cars ablaze, etc. Not just you teetering on the edge of a barstool surrounded by what appears to be the rest of the bar taking part in an eye-rolling competition.

Ohhh I get it, you're actually the real-life version of this guy.

Really? Unmarried, you say...

See, in a perfect world, a potential Rambo candidate would be sewing up his own arm using a can opener and barbed wire, when I'd come along and say, "Oh shit, you're kind of like that guy, Rambo." At which point, anyone remotely Rambo-like would say, "Grumble grumble" before returning to their sewing.

The connection is slightly harder to make when all we've witnessed is you, I don't know, snapping at some girl on the sidewalk... while also wearing a bandanna.

Conveniently ignoring the fact that John Rambo is a tragic, tortured character who, if given the chance, would most likely not want to be Rambo. Oh, and a cold-blooded murder machine.

Wait. You're telling me you've spent the last twenty years calling yourself the real-life Rambo and the best you can do is get a bandanna that's not even the right color??? That doesn't even cut it on Halloween! Why not just put on a plastic bib with a picture of Rambo on it?

Not Rambo: Check it out, I'm Rambo!

Guy: Huh?

Not Rambo: I've got his trademark hunting knife!

Guy: That's a butter knife. And it's plastic.

Not Rambo: (Pause, then) I saaid, I'm Raaambo!


Also, what are the odds Rambo would ever say "combat trousers"?

Does "expert" have a different meaning in the UK?

Aircraft hobbyist who's "done a few courses," that's the the same as Medal of Honor winning Vietnam vet, right?

Hey, remember that scene in First Blood where Rambo watches that movie over and over again? You don't? Oh, maybe it was a deleted scene from the DVD. That's probably what I'm thinking of.

Short fuse/what you have = a negative quality not to be worn proudly, commonly found in dicks.

Post-traumatic stress disorder/ what Rambo had = an unfortunate, horrible affliction you wouldn't wish on your worse enemy, that he didn't choose to have. Nor brag about.

Where's a pissed off Brian Dennehy when you need him?



FYI, my other choices for a story this week were:

I'm the real-life Superman... I'm a near-sighted man currently living in Kansas!

I'm the real-life Brad Pitt! That's right, my first name starts with B, and I collect peach pits as a hobby.



(bonus joke for those who click the link to see the photo: More like, real-life "Mario the Plumber.")




TheCoolerKing is sort of in shock at the level of restraint or possibly idiocy demonstrated by the above reporter... Though mentioning Rambo's single status twice is a nice, subtle touch