Look at this pituitary monster! Lay off the cattle steroids you hulking freak. Yep, this is how pond stalking neo-con Jason Voorhees measures up in Michael Bay's latest Platinum Dunes de-imagining. Thanks Michael! You fuck.
I kid! I couldn't give two shits how Jason looks. Of all the 80s bogeymen, he always seemed the safest. Freddy's a dream stalking paedo, Leatherface ate people and liked a dance; Michael Myers had a seedy stonk-on for his sister. All loons. Jason was into hockey and dismembering horny / drunk teens. Nice work dickhole! Why not picket for the Phelps Church while you're at it? Jason's always struck me as a big anti-jock wish fulfillment equaliser for dick wringing non-invite nerds.
"Murder up 'dem awful popular kids! I dangs hates 'em!" none of them have ever said.
Still, what genre fan doesn't love a good muscle-mensch fascist? What card carrying geek doesn't love a bit of black and white simplicity? Give it twos! Why didn't The Bayster rope in Rob Zombie in full on SS Exploito-Scuz mood? Stick a swastika armband on the sloping, half-dead blonde dope and what do you gots? Inbred hick master race murder! Fucking get it sorted! He's a one-man final solution. Cast yourself a wheelchaired Roma as the hero, give him a sawn-off shotgun, and we'll see who gets to pass on their genes!
