JCVD

AT RISE:

Two PEOPLE (Yah! Gender neutral casting) sits around, having a grand old time.

PERSON 1:
How long can you love something ironically before the love stops being ironic?

PERSON 2:
Are we talking single digits or decades?

PERSON 1:
I think I just slipped into year ten recently.

PERSON 2:
Then I'm afraid it's not ironic anymore. What're we talking about, anyway?

PERSON 1:
Jean-Claude Van Damme.

PERSON 2:
Ah.

PERSON 1:
From Bloodpsort to The Quest, I just can help lovng the wooden acting, absurd catchphrases, and overly ballectic fight coreography of the Muscles from Brussells. I even love his bizzare penchant for slightly homoerotic posturing. I have a sickness.

PERSON 2:
That's as may be, but why let it bother you so?

PERSON 1:
Well I mean, aside from the slef loathing normally associated with a connection to such a silly person, there's also the fact that there are people who genuinely think his ouvere is composed of quality pieces of action filmmaking! Sometimes I worry that my own love of those films for their terriblility somehow diminishes the joy in those poor, simple hearts.

PERSON 2:
Well, I don't think it really matters why you love something, as long as you do. I mean, are you genuinely entertained by the movies?

PERSON 1:
Well, yeah.

PERSON 2:
Would you, say, rate those movies in terms of pure enjoyment above other films widely regarded to be of much higher quality?

PERSON 1:
Yes, I suppose I would.

PERSON 2:
Then your love is valid. Cherish it!

PERSON 1:
I will! I will cherish it even as I wonder at the world that would engender such a bizzare mixture of pity and elation in response to a piece of media! I mean seriously, think of the reprocussions of a culture that can create genuine emotion from abject mockery!

PERSON 2:
This has been a truly philosophical conversation.

PERSON 1:
I too, am overly proud of myself.

They bask in their own smugnes. But who can blame em', really.

BLACKOUT. END PLAY.