Monday, January 26, 2009

Welcome to the dangerzone


One of the odd things about living close to the Naval Academy is that you realise to what extent they sincerely believe in their own stories. You all remember Top Gun, right? None of my readers is too young for that I hope. Top Gun - the testosterone-fuelled, heroic, sexy, ridiculous movie that made us all want to be Navy fighter pilots. Well, some of us anyway. Anyway, Top Gun. Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer, and lots of lusciously over-the-top dialogue. Famously features two songs - the terrible, teribble Berlin song, Take my breath away, which no, I'm not linking to, you can find your own schmaltzy entertainment; and then there was Welcome to the danger zones (I guess there was You've lost that lovin' feeling as well, but let's ignore that for the moment). Welcome to the danger zone is so completely into its own machoism that it is quite hard to take seriously.

Last summer I was at a Navy game, and after the wonderful marching and white-uniformedness, unimaginable to my Belgian mind, they brought out the team. To what music? Yes, exactly. No sense of irony at all. But you know what? In the context of Navy football players and men in tight white trousers, I can deal with a certain lack of self-awareness.

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