NOW TO COMPARE THE HUGHES TEAM TO THE FILM HUGHES SHOULD HAVE MADE -- History of the NBA Finals Part 29
Welcome to the way it could have been for John Hughes.
Sure he would have still had some work to do, but...he would have had Jennifer Love Hewitt while he did it.
I'm sure Hughes got tons of hot tail, but read on.
For there is one film in particular that screams to the world, "This is what John Hughes should have made."
"This...was the 1978 Washington Bullets."
That movie was called "Can't Hardly Wait".
It is singularly the greatest chick movie of all time.
It's a masterful, funny, insightful movie that pulls all the stops.
Of course it could have been better, ladies and gentlemen. That's why I said "chick" movie.
For Can't Hardly Wait is an example of the very cult film that John Hughes never got around to making and should.
Dead Man on Campus is another one.
But Dead Man on Campus is far too good in itself to waste on a hub with a chick flick in it.
It will be used for later on. I'll think of something.
For now we discuss the movie that Hughes would have made had he not wanted to retire so bad.
For Hughes wanted to get away from the system just as bad as the people in Can't Hardly Wait.
But Can't Hardly Wait...could wait.
That's the whole reason I say Hughes should have made stuff like this instead.
As long as you're stuck around people who would have delighted in slaying the Molly Ringwalds and Cameron Fryes...give the proper canon to the proper people.
And thus you have Can't Hardly Wait, where it's only the two people who don't fit in...who make any fucking sense.
Ethan Embry plays a kid who only wants to talk to Jennifer Love Hewitt.
She's been fucking this guy...Mike Dexter...who's a trademark dick.
Now if John Hughes had it his way, the artist's canon would go to Mike Dexter.
Ethan Embry would be made out to be yet another iconic John Hughes fuck-up -- this one being sensitive to a fault, and trying to think bigger while he's at a drunken party for morons.
We would have never seen the fat goth bitch he's friends with end up with ANYBODY, much less Can't Hardly Wait's Ducky...Seth Green...who acts black in order to mask his social diseases.
Kind of like what marketing agents think of new writers...eh? eh?
How would you feel if you were either black and seeing Seth Green...or a new writer dealing with a schmuck marketing agent who appears in one of these scam ads google puts up?
But the Washington Bullets, around 1975, will be Ethan Embry.
He talks to us early on.
I have a secret.
I want to win an NBA championship.
That's what this letter is about.
I want to tell the NBA world championship trophy how I feel about it.
I want to hug it.
Suck on its' nipples.
To which the casual NBA fan would simply, when it was his turn to talk, come back with "WOOD YOU LIKE DOO DUTCH MY PEENIS?! YA?! I am a sex maaah-chine, no?"
The Bullets path to the NBA title thus is very similar to that fucking note that Ethan Embry then throws away.
Title hopes end up in the trash, until it's mysteriously and accidentally resurrected...with an old Elvin Hayes.
Suddenly the Washington Bullets end up right in front of the NBA championship.
And fuck it up.
Amanda is incensed.
WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU THINK I'D EVER LET SOMEONE LIKE YOU WIN ME?! UH-UH!!! WHY DON'T YOU JUST GET LOST AND GET A FUCKING LIFE, RETARD?!!!!
It happens in front of everybody. The whole sports world.
That is until the NBA championship realizes that Elvin Hayes is now in the mix.
Oh my god.
This team IS title material.
Meanwhile Philadelphia...Mike Dexter...is flying high.
He's the big man at the party, and nobody cares they're losers because Philly's team will go to the shitty office jobs after college while the Portland hippies won't.
And that's when he runs into an old friend.
"Yeah man, you're a sexual icon!" Dr. J tells him. "You know that that trophy still talks about you?"
"Yeah dude, listen," Kareem tells him. "I thought the NBA was going to be a 24 hour orgy of trophies. This particular trophy...they're different."
"How do you mean?"
"NBA trophies are totally different, bro," Kareem tells him. "They go for guys who win AND are flashy. There's tons of flashy overachievers, and there's tons of conformist winners. Like us. You're a flashy overachiever, Doctor Dexter. And I'm a boring winner. Face it Julius. Guys like us...are a dime...a dozen."
And so Dr. J goes back to the playoffs, back to the Eastern Conference Finals, scared.
He wants to reclaim that NBA title.
Amanda says FUCK YOU in front of everybody.
To which, tables turning on them, Philadelphia says the funniest thing --
"No FUCK YOU...NBA title...who's gonna want you now?!"
To which everybody stands looking at him like he's a retard.
Then someone yells "fag".
The 76ers lose to the Bullets in six games, and end up working in a car wash and getting really fat and losing their scholarship.
Then everybody laughs while Amanda goes to look for the team that wrote that letter...
To no avail.
Until Washington gets on that plane in the fourth quarter of Game 7 of the NBA Finals in Seattle.
Excuse me, the title says, am I yours?
To which the Bullets stick around and put two great big hickies on Amanda Beckett's boobies.
That's even what it says in the credits as the sappy song plays.