PeterDavid.net

The Dangers of Getting What you wish for

So John McCain lampooned Obama for his lack of foreign diplomatic experience. Obama promptly scheduled a fact finding tour, and the press and foreign countries ate it up. Visuals of Obama sinking hoops with the armed forces while McCain looked decrepit riding around in a golf cart made the rounds of the media. The result? McCain is now bitching about the media's love affair with Obama.

Sorry, Senator McCain. What you should have done was keep your mouth shut and not talk about Obama's not visiting Iraq in several years until September, when it would have been too late for Obama to arrange a foreign sweep. Instead you enabled him to turn a liability into a plus. And since it was all your idea, I don't really see where you get to complain about it.

PAD

Senator Ted Stevens

The embattled senator has been depicted wearing a Hulk necktie based on the cover of Hulk #401, written by yours truly. Apparently it's his favorite tie when he's in trouble. I'm starting to get an inkling of how Rowena felt upon learning that her art was a favorite of Saddam Hussein. In the words of Groucho, it's a club that you really would rather not be a part of since it would have you as a member.

photo copyright Doug Mills/The New York Times

PAD

From the blog that gave you...

..."They should really cast Richard Dreyfuss as Dick Cheney in 'W.'"...

...comes...

Back from San Diego

Efficiently run but a marathon endeavor as always. I was exhausted by Wednesday. It doesn't get any easier the older you get.

Had any number of interesting experiences, ranging from MC'ing the Pro/Fan competition with the Pros having a severely depleted team and press ganging audience members into service, to an unexpected meeting with a celebrity interested in working with me on a graphic novel (more on that as things firm up) to being stranded in San Diego for an extra day courtesy of massive thunderstorms that shut down the east coast.

One of the high points was going with a couple of friends to see "Hamlet 2," a dementedly hilarious comedy that I cannot recommend highly enough. It's the story of a lousy actor who becomes an even worse drama teacher and, when the school's drama program is going to be shut down, he endeavors to save it by mounting a production of his first original musical: a sequel to Hamlet which involves Hamlet acquiring a time machine and teaming up with Jesus Christ. Everyone will be talking about the signature tune, "Rock me, Sexy Jesus," but rest assured there is plenty else in the film to enjoy, presuming you're not easily offended.

Con had a remarkably large number of stuff that I didn't know existed before I got there, but once I discovered them, I had to have them. A "Battlestar Galactica" toaster, for example, that--in addition to the built-in pun--actually imprints a Cylon onto your toast. Or a "Dexter" blood-spattered bobble head from "Entertainment Earth." That kind of thing.

Wound up going out Sunday evening with the Comic Mix contingent, an outing which included a waitress who was having a nervous breakdown because her boyfriend had dumped her that morning, Mike Grell producing a Batman sketch for her on a placemat, Mark Ryan ("Nasir" of "Robin of Sherwood") describing doing the first performance ever of "Spamalot" in Eric Idle's living room for the benefit of director Mike Nichols, and a group photo staged to look like the Last Supper.

Flew overnight and Kathleen, God bless her, picked up what was left of me at JFK at 5:30 in the morning.

Overall a stimulating endeavor as always. Pictures will be posted as we download the camera.

PAD

While Peter is off at the San Diego ComicCon

The mice at home decided to come out and play

We have had "Ask Peter". We have had "Ask Kathleen (aka Ask the Wife)"

So now Ariel and Caroline are taking questions.

So this is Ask the Kids.

Fine print; If I (being Kathleen) think a question is inappropriate I will make it vanish. There are questions that might get a pass for various reasons including Non-disclosure agreements and other legal things that we have to abide by. Please be understanding if we don't or can't answer.

So there it is. What questions do you have for the children of Peter David

My San Diego Schedule

Below is my schedule of activities at San Diego. Feel free to swing by to any of them and say hi.

Thursday

11 AM – 12 PM—Signing, Marvel Booth
1-2:30 PM—Signing—Impact Booth
5-6 PM—“Eye on the Past”—Panel, Room 8
6-7 PM—“Eye on the Past” autographing, Table AA6

Friday

10-11 AM—Signing, Impact booth
11 AM – 12 Noon –Marvel Booth
3-4 PM—IDW signing

Saturday

3-4 PM—Signing at Del Rey Booth (copies of "Tigerheart" will be available for purchase)
4:30-5:30 PM—Secret Invasion Panel
6-7 PM—Impact panel

Sunday

10-11 AM—IDW signing
2:30-4—Pro/Fan trivia panel—Moderator

SHEA LA VIE

For reasons surpassing understanding, Tim Lynch was willing to sell me two tickets for the Friday Billy Joel concert at Shea for the face price, rather than the insanely inflated prices that said tix were fetching on ebay. As a result, Ariel and I accompanied Tim and his wife, Lisa, to witness a slice of history.

Worth. Every. Penny.

When Ariel is 107 and can't remember the names of her own kids, she will remember this concert.

Joel was in rare, albeit heavily shvitzing, form. He playfully covered a full chronology of his songs old and new, although naturally the biggest reactions came for his classics. Guest stars included Tony Bennett, Roger Daltry, Garth Brooks, and of course the biggest name of all: Sir Paul McCartney. (I have to think that ticket holders who went to the Wednesday night concert, which was minus Sir Paul, must have been spitting tacks. ) The rendition of "I Saw Her Standing There" had Ariel slightly disconcerted as the seats overhead were visibly shuddering rhythmically under the stomping feet of the fans. I had to explain to Ariel the bizarre tradition of the artist leaving, then being brought back for an encore, then leaving again, and then another encore. It was on the second encore, as the clock hit midnight, that Sir Paul showed up and the place went nuts. Joel willingly took a back seat as McCartney brought the concert history of Shea full circle, with "Let it Be" being the last song sung at Shea.

The funny thing was that Ariel wasn't all that familiar with Billy Joel until suddenly he started doing songs that she associated with the Boogie Knights. She knew the parody versions rather than the original and was surprised to hear the actual lyrics.

The picture above of Joel (whom I slowly seem to be starting to resemble) is courtesy of the Jumbotron, and the smaller picture is McCartney and Joel on stage. Not bad for being up in the mezzanine. Not all of us could be sitting tenth row from the stage like Christie Brinkley.

PAD

DOCTOR HORRIBLE'S SINGALONG BLOG

You guys following this? Joss Whedon's mini-comedy/drama with Neil Patrick Harris as an overreaching would-be evil-doer squaring off against his arch nemesis, Captain Hammer (a monumentally smug Nathan Fillion). If you haven't been following it thus far at www.drhorrible.com, then I suggest you wait until tomorrow since Act 3 will be up and you can watch the whole thing in one shot. (Me, I'm wondering if the Doc's would-be girlfriend turns out to be someone even more evil than he, but that's just a theory.)

My one quibble? First rule of singalongs: Provide the lyrics. The musical numbers are fine, even catchy, but why call it a singalong if you don't have the lyrics on the screen, preferably highlighting the words as you go or even--if you want to do it old school--have a little bouncing ball? One hopes that the DVD release will correct this horrible oversight.

PAD

OUT THIS WEEK: X-FACTOR #33

The first issue set in XF's new playground of Detroit. Whad'ja think?

PAD

Two things

1) Just turned in the next "New Frontier" novel, "Treason." Pub date is early next year.

2) If you have read and enjoyed "Tigerheart," please go over to Amazon.com and post a review. Thanks.

PAD

By popular demand

On the Adventurers Club thread, several people have asked to hear the story of how I proposed to Kathleen at the AC. Herewith the column I wrote describing the event. If nothing else it might give people some feel for the depth of attachment we feel for the place.

“I have a plan…and it’s so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel.”
--Edmund Blackadder

I wasn’t going to write about this, but several friends of mine in the fan community have told me I should because they thought you guys might be interested. And I suppose it’s somehow appropriate: Although it was never anything I’ve intended, I’ve lived my life in this column. Ups, downs, good times and bad; it’s been like weekly therapy sometimes, the differences being that I don’t have to pay for it and I’ve got about twenty thousand therapists…most of whom don’t say all that much to me in terms of guidance, but then again, many therapists just sit and listen, and the only time they speak is when they say, “Time’s up.”

So…

I decided to ask Kathleen, my girlfriend of three years, to marry me.

It was not something I did lightly, and certainly not without some degree of trepidation. The dissolution of my marriage to Myra had left me with—shall we say—trust issues. I’m sure anyone who’s been through a busted relationship…which is probably just about everybody reading this…can relate. Nevertheless, it felt good, it felt right, and it felt like it was time. But how to do it? I only knew that I wanted to do something stylish, because I felt she deserved it. And I also knew that I wanted as many of my children as possible to be present when I did it, because it was going to affect them as well. If they were going to share in her being their stepmother (something I knew they supported since I’d spoken to each of them about it individually), they should also get to share in the emotionality of the moment rather than Kathleen and I just coming back from a dinner and our saying, “Guess what?” Only one place seemed suitable:

Disney World.

We were going to Disney World anyway on a family vacation at the beginning of September: The first one in three years, and the first sojourn to the Mouse House since the marriage had fallen apart. Shana was flying down from college to join us, so we’d all be together, staying in one of those cool family-sized cabins at Ft. Wilderness. The question then became, Where at the Park? One popular place was the restaurant inside the Castle; it’s such a popular venue for popping the question that there’s a whole department in Disney that helps stage proposals there. But if there was one thing I’d learned, it was that relationships weren’t storybook, weren’t flights of fancy. They were more of…an adventure. And that’s when it hit me:

The Adventurers Club.

To use the official Disney description, the Adventurer’s Club—situated on popular night spot Pleasure Island—is “an interactive entertainment experience in a setting reminiscent of the fictional 1930’s gentleman adventurer clubs, as depicted in Hollywood films of that era…Think of the AC as a theater that is presenting a play. In ordinary theaters, the audience is seated while the action continuously unfolds on the stage in front of them over a fixed, limited period of time. The AC, however…(has) the action sporadically occur all around you, even to the extent of your functioning as an extra in the play. At the AC you are a visitor to the Adventurers Club, circa 1935, and are treated as such by the resident cast of characters.” The cast includes “Fletcher Hodges, the slightly off-center Club curator,” “Graves the Loyal Club Butler,” and others. But two other characters, found in the club’s man salon, are Babylonia and the Colonel. Babylonia is a gigantic talking goddess mask, and the Colonel is a 1930s-style British Raj-style officer. Both of them are puppets.

It was perfect. Kathleen is, by trade, an editor, but by training, a puppeteer. The plan leaped from my brow fully formed (scaring the cats and knocking over the furniture): I, the writer, would write a script for one of the puppets, who would then propose to the puppeteer in the Main Salon at the AC…provided I could get the folks at the AC to go along with it.

A few calls to Disney put me together with a fellow named Bill Shepherd. I’m still a little murky on his exact position there, but he was definitely the go-to guy for setting something like this up. I explained exactly what I wanted to do, and sent him the copy for what I’d want the Colonel (it was quickly decided that he would be the more appropriate conveyor of the proposal) to say:

“You’re here in the Adventurer’s Club, Kathleen, so you must be an adventurous girl. Tell you what, Kathleen: I’m going to invite you to take part in an adventure right now You see, the rather round fellow you’ve been dating for the past three years—Peter--is standing next to you with an engagement ring. And Peter’s hoping that you will accept this proposal of joining in the adventure of marriage, and become a wife to him and a stepmother to his three daughters—preferably not an evil stepmother, because we all know where that leads. What say you, Kathleen--?”

Of course, if she said no, I’d look like the king schmuck of the Universe. But then again, writing this column for ten years has certainly prepared me for that feeling.

Shepherd set the whole thing up. The question of course was when. I worked out an itinerary of our stay at the Park one evening and casually said to Kathleen, “How about we hit Pleasure Island on the 3rd (of September), say, around…oh…” “Ten PM,” suggested Kathleen. “That sounds fine,” I said, and gleefully informed Shepherd of exactly when we’d be there. He had to know the time so that the Club “members” could work the proposal deftly into the evening’s activities without throwing the normal schedule off. I was told to touch base with “Fletcher Hodges” as soon as I arrived in order to put the thing into motion. “He’ll be wearing a pith helmet and a skirt; he should be easy to spot,” Shepherd assured me. Everything was in place.

Now—here was the slight wrinkle in the cunning plan.

My sister Beth and her husband Rande had decided to go down to Disney World for a second honeymoon. They were arriving early on the 3rd. Beth had not told me of this impromptu plan, because what she had concocted with Kathleen was that they would meet up with us at the Adventurers Club to surprise me. So now we had two siblings both trying to arrange surprises, with Kath the coconspirator of one and the target of another. Naturally, we wound up working at cross purposes to one another.

The morning of the 3rd, while we were all walking around at Universal (you MUST do the Spider-Man ride) Kathleen got a call on her cellphone. She said “Unh huh,” and “okay, sure,” a couple of times, hung up, turned to us and said, “That was Sheila (Kathleen’s sister). Had to ask me something.” We shrugged and thought no more of it. But in point of fact, it had been Beth calling to say, “Y’know…why don’t we make it nine o’clock instead? Ten might be a little late for us.” Kathleen said no problem, waited an hour or so (so we wouldn’t associate what she was saying with the phone call) and then said, “How about we go to the Adventurers Club at nine tonight instead of ten? Because I don’t know how much energy I’ll have left by the end of the day.”

Well, now I was screwed. If I said, “No, no, we have to stick to 10 o’clock,” it’d sound suspicious. So I did the only thing I could: I said, “Sure. That sounds fine. Nine it is.” Fortunately since it was hot out, the sweat on my brow seemed perfectly understandable. But inwardly I was panicking, because we were going to arrive an hour early and the whole thing was in danger of being thrown out of whack. Ten o’clock was the time, all was in place, the puppeteer who operated the Colonel was ready to go. For all I knew he wouldn’t even be around an hour earlier. I had to find a way to alert the folks at the AC that there was a change in plans…except I had no direct line for the Adventurers Club (and there wouldn’t be anyone there during the daytime anyway), Bill Shepherd had the day off so he wasn’t around, and besides, I was never alone. The girls or Kathleen were with me at all times. This was, after all, about family togetherness. So I had to find a way to ditch my loved ones long enough to wend my way through the Disney phone chain and connect directly with the AC to alert them. And somewhere, at that moment, Beth and Rande were gleefully rubbing their hands together, anticipating the look on my face when I saw them that evening, not realizing that their good-heartedness had just thrown my cunning plan out of whack.

By 6 PM I was sweating bullets. Kathleen, Gwen, Shana, Ariel and I had returned to the cabin at Fort Wilderness, preparing to go out to dinner at a restaurant at the Grand Floridian, and I still had been unable to break away and inform the AC of the change in plans. Still, I couldn’t resist one moment of personal whimsy: Kathleen, in prepping to go out, said, “Should I wear my hair up or down?” “Down,” I said. “I mean, I think it looks better that way, and I’d want you to look your best tonight.” “Why?” she asked, curious at my phrasing. “Because,” I said suavely, “I’m positive that when we’re in the Adventurer’s Club, every eye will be on you.” “Flatterer,” she said.

Meantime, we’d been informed that a package was waiting for us at the Fort Wilderness Trading Post. We knew what it was: It was stuff we’d bought in the park the day before that we’d had shipped to FW so we wouldn’t have to schlep it around. The thought was that we’d hop in the car, swing by the Trading Post, pick up the package and head out.

That’s when I came up with my new cunning plan. Complaining of stomach pains, I went into the bathroom, shut the door…and proceeded to make loud retching noises. It wasn’t that difficult: My stomach was in knots anyway. I came out and said that something we’d had at lunch disagreed with me. “Tell you what,” I said, looking wan, “why don’t you guys go on ahead to the Trading Post…give me a few minutes to pull myself together…come back and pick me up.”

Immediately solicitous, Shana said, “Why don’t they go and I’ll stay here and keep you company.” “Me too!” Ariel piped up.

Desperate beyond measure, I shouted, “Will you just friggin’ go and leave me alone for a few minutes?!?”

“What a grouch,” sniffed Shana, and off they went. The instant I heard the car pull out I was on the phone. First I couldn’t get an operator. Then when I finally did, the operator rang the AC. No answer. She tried another number there. Still no answer. Third number. No answer. I kept an eye on the window, getting more frantic. One last number—and a bartender at the AC picked up just as I saw the car coming back. The message I gave him must have sounded incoherent: “Tell Fletcher that the guy Bill Shepherd told him will be showing up with the proposal thing with the Colonel will be there at nine instead of ten!”

“Which Fletcher?” said the bartender. “Different people play Fletcher on different nights; what if the Fletcher that Bill Shepherd spoke to called in sick and the guy playing him tonight doesn’t know what you’re talking about?"”

“Great. Thanks. Something else for me to worry about,” I said crankily. “Just do the best you can, okay?” And I hung up an instant before the car honked for me, grabbed the engagement ring out of the shoe that I’d smuggled it down in, shoved it in my pocket and ran out the door.

At the restaurant were all sorts of really nice looking dishes…none of which I could reasonably have since I’d just “thrown up” minutes before, so naturally I had to stick with something mild. I wound up ordering mac and cheese off the kid’s menu. Everyone at dinner was very solicitous of me, probably because I looked like a nervous wreck, which I was. What if the whole thing fell apart? What if she said no? Geez, what if she said yes? Was I ready for this, really? Three years, which had seemed so long to be together, suddenly seemed like “only” three years. My guess is that if Kath hadn’t known Beth and Rande were expecting to meet us there, she would have suggested we cancel the evening excursion entirely, because I was a mess.

We got to the Adventurer’s Club at five minutes to the appointed hour. “Fletcher Hodges,” the club’s curator and my contact, was standing by the door acting as greeter. We entered, me bringing up the rear, and I said in a low voice, “My name’s Peter…Bill Shepherd said I should touch base with you…”

Immediately he replied, “Yes, I know, everything’s ready.” I breathed a sigh of relief and then I said, in a slightly louder voice, “Could you tell me where the men’s room is?”

Fletcher immediately said jauntily and loudly, “The men’s room? Certainly! Why, I’ll show you there myself!” And off we marched, getting a very strange look from Gwen. Once we rounded a corner, Fletcher pulled me through a “cast only” door and, in private, we locked down the final details. At 9:05 the Adventurers members were going to embark on their radio broadcast (don’t ask) in the library. That let out at 9:25 into the Main Salon, where the Colonel was, and that’s when the Colonel would involve Kathleen in the discussion leading to the proposal. Kath wouldn’t suspect anything at first, because the Colonel habitually busted on people in the crowd, so she wouldn’t wonder why he was singling her out; she’d just chalk it to luck of the draw.

The radio show was in particularly fine form. Even my tough-to-impress teenagers were roaring with laughter. I was feeling more relaxed with each passing moment. We emerged into the Main Salon and the Colonel, on cue, came to life. He verbally fenced with the crowd for a moment or two, looked over in our direction and said, “Hello, young lady, what’s your name?”

Immediately Gwen piped up, “Gwen!” I felt a momentary return of panic: If the Colonel wasn’t paying attention to the names, or had limited vision, I was going to wind up proposing to my fifteen-year-old daughter. Without missing a beat, the Colonel said, “Hello, Gwen, and who’s the young woman next to you?” “Kathleen,” she replied. “Kathleen! My, you’re a tall drink of water, aren’t you!” said the Colonel. He started to banter with her and then went into the scripted material. My heart was racing. I reached into my pocket, ready to pull out the engagement ring on cue.

And then a low voice said, almost in my ear, “Hey, aren’t you Peter David? I’m a big fan!” I thought, Oh, geez, not now, and I turned and Beth was standing there, grinning. Rande was just behind her. I blinked like an owl in a spotlight, and suddenly my attention was divided. On the one hand my mind was racing with questions as to what my sister and her husband were doing hundreds of miles from home, and on the other hand the Colonel was fast approaching the point at which he would say, You see, the rather round fellow you’ve been dating for the past three years—Peter--is standing next to you with an engagement ring. If I was talking to Beth instead of holding the open box in my hand, everything would come unraveled. So I grabbed her by the side of the head, pulled her ear toward me and whispered, “Just listen!”

I switched my attention back to the moment just as the Colonel was saying “rather round fellow” and pulled the box from my pocket, flipping it open like Captain Kirk would a communicator. By this point the throng of about a hundred people suddenly realized something genuine, as opposed to staged, was going on and became totally caught up in it. When the light hit the ring, people started “awwwiiing” or reacting with similar comments of surprise. Tears worked their way down Kathleen’s cheek as the dime dropped. Shana immediately startled yelling, “Out of the way!” as she swung her camera up and began snapping pictures. Gwen was grinning. Ariel was incandescent. Fletcher, on a balcony overhead, was videotaping it. There were more photograph records of this than the JFK assassination. The Colonel continued, “And Peter’s hoping that you will accept this proposal of joining in the adventure of marriage, and become a wife to him and a stepmother to his three daughters—preferably not an evil stepmother, because we all know where that leads,” and then arrived at the one moment that was completely out of my hands: “What say you, Kathleen--?”

Well, she said yes, and everyone cheered, and the manager of the Adventurer’s Club brought out a bottle of champagne (the good stuff) compliments of the AC, which we promptly cracked open. It was a good thing Beth and Rande were there because they helped us drink the champagne. And then Kath ran off to call her folks while I managed to get my pulse down to something normal. And when she came back, I put my arms around her and said, “Told you every eye in the Adventurer’s Club would be on you.”

So that’s how Kathleen and I got engaged. And if you’re ever at Pleasure Island, swing by the AC and give Fletcher and the others a hearty “Kungaloosh!” from the future Peter and Kathleen David.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at To Be Continued, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705. China pattern will be registered at the Magic Kingdom.)

A host of rave reviews for "Tigerheart"

Check 'em out. And if you haven't gotten a copy yet, buzz over to Amazon and grab one.

SF Review
Playback
January Magazine
Blog Critics
Fantasy Book Critic

We need to discuss something pointless

Something on par with the sort of stupid discussion you'd hear in a bar or see at a convention.

Plus I've watched a few too many of those "Best (fill in the blanks) in movies."

So I've decided we should collectively put together a list of the Twenty Best Ass-Kickings in movies

I took the precaution of running a goggle search on the subject and, sure enough, found someone had already put together such a list. But I consider his choices, for the most part, inadequate. So I want to put together a list that kicks the ass of the other ass-kicking list.

What do I mean by ass-kickings? I mean a fight where someone gets his head handed to him, sometimes literally. An ass-kicking that is iconic. That when you mention it, it immediately calls the moment to mind and you go, Oh God, yes, I remember that. It shouldn't be a fight that's going along fairly evenly matched and then someone wins at the end, such as the battle between Robin Hood and Sir Guy in "The Adventures of Robin Hood." An ass-kicking should, for the most part, be someone who is rapidly outmatched and gets more so by the moment. It can even be that the fight winds up turning out the other way, but in the course of it someone still gets their ass kicked.

At this point, I'm not putting them in any order. Eventually, once I get a sense of the room, I will.

There are my thoughts:

BLADE RUNNER: Rick Dekkard versus Roy Batty. Bad enough that he almost dies between the muscular thighs of Darryl Hannah (which, let's face it, there's worse ways to go.) But Dekkard can muster little more than one long retreat before winding up at Batty's mercy. If Batty had let go, Dekkard's ass is little more than grass.

MONTY PYTHON & THE HOLY GRAIL: King Arthur vs. the Black Knight. Rarely has someone's ass been more comprehensively kicked than the Black Knight. Yet even more famous than his dismemberment is his absolute refusal to acknowledge it. "It's just a flesh wound," has entered the language as an example of denial at its greatest.

RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK: Indiana Jones versus the German Mechanic. Barely edging out Indy getting thrown out the front of a moving truck, this wins because in the truck sequence, Indy rallies and comes out on top. In the mechanic battle, staged in front of a moving airplane, Indy winds up flat on his back and helpless, and only wins because the mechanic didn't think to look behind him when a propeller swung his way.

EMPIRE STRIKES BACK: Luke vs. Vader. For much of the time, Luke seems overmatched, and yet there are brief moments where you think he's going to rally. So it's all the more crushing and shocking when he loses his hand. What kicks the ass-kicking to an entirely new level is that, not only is he beaten physically, but the revelation of who did it crushes him spiritually.

WITNESS: John Book versus a bunch of punks. Harrison Ford finally on the right side of a whupping. When a bunch of smart mouth teens hassle the Amish, Book advances on them despite the caution that, "It's not our way." His terse, "But it's MY way" underscores why he and Rachel will never make it together as he proceeds to issue the teens a single warning and then tap dances on their faces. Speaking of tap dancing...

CLOCKWORK ORANGE: Alex vs. the Author. The only ass-kicking that is as famed for its perverse use of "Singing in the Rain" as the actual ass-kicking itself.

ALIENS: Ripley vs. the Alien Queen. An ass-kicking that announces itself in the unforgettable moment of Ripley emerging in a power loader and bellowing, "Get away from her, you bitch!" No longer running, Ripley lays all her nightmares of aliens to rest by smacking, pummeling, burning, and crushing the queen before chucking her out of the ship, and all it costs her is a sneaker.

ROCKY II: Rocky vs. Apollo Creed. The other list acknowledges Apollo being killed by Ivan in Rocky III, but I'm sorry, if you're going to have a Rocky-related ass-kicking, then Rocky should be participating. The second film takes it because it's a rare double ass-kicking, with both boxers desperately crawling back to their corners.

DIE HARD: John McClane versus Karl. Pity poor Karl: He was just trying to avenge the death of his brother. Too bad his brother was one of the bad guys. Particularly memorable since it's an ass-kicking accompanied by what one would hear in a real-life ass-kicking, namely an almost non-stop string of profanity. I wouldn't be surprised if Bruce Willis ad libbed some of that family unfriendly diatribe as he pounds on Alexander Godunov before leaving him hanging by the neck. Props to Karl for surviving and almost having the last laugh...before getting his ass kicked yet again courtesy of an alert cop blowing him away.

TERMINATOR II: The Terminator versus the T1000. Literally getting his head handed to him, Arnold's iconic bionic gets slammed in the head repeatedly by an I-beam, then pummeled with a metal rod before getting speared through the chest. Yeah, sure, he blows up the T1000 at the end, but that hardly erases the thorough thrashing he took at the hands of the far smaller, but far meaner, T1000.

I have some other thoughts, but let's see what you guys come up with.

PAD