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An Open Letter to My Minions

My Fellow Terrorists / Thugs / Meth Dealers / Commandos / Vaguely Ethnic Third-Rate SEAL Knockoffs,

I appreciate the effort.  I really do.

But why the hell do you keep fighting Jason Statham?

Look at him!

I know that I've been prone to histrionic fits.  Once or twice I've shot one of you to prove a point about the relative value of human life.  I've even promised a bonus once or twice.

Even so, I'm not one to be wasteful.

Sure, your existence is but tissue paper to me - but have you ever considered your life in the context of total investiture?  Each time one of you runs face-first into Statham's bare knuckles, I'm losing three years of training, minimum.  Do you know how much it costs to retain, feed, and support a full-time staff of morally neutral drill sergeants?  Do you think I employ them just so they can send you off to be torn to ribbons on your first day on the job?  And don't get me started on all the lost body armor, confiscated drugs, stolen sub-machine guns, and rampant property damage.

And you know what?  While we're on the topic, let's stop with the blind gun spray, hmmm?  We outfitted your pistols and AKs with laser sights and cross-hairs, yet your default option is still to hold your weapons at waist-height and empty the chamber like the premature nut-busters we thought you to be.


Listen.  Guys.  Bros.  Compadres.

I don't expect you to defeat Jason Statham.  It's okay if you can't beat him.  It's okay.  Just let him go.  You see a Jason Statham walking down the street?  Turn the other way.  Just lay low and let him pass.  Let's just think about how this will go down.  In fact, let's all take a long, hard look in the mirror.


Pictured: Desire to grab some lunch in a minute.

Pictured: Desire to murder soul.
Are you starting to see the imbalance here?

See, every time you go and pick a fight with Statham, I'm out another hundred grand and then he gets all pissy and moany and starts vowing retribution on my ass.  Suddenly I'm knee-deep in marble-mouthed angst and I don't have anymore backup because you guys all got yourselves killed.

But if, instead of all that, you just keep shoving around random bystanders, then we'll keep a grip on this town / puppet regime / backwater mob ring and make a shitload of money.

I know what you're going to say.... "But boss!  He's trying to stop us!  Wah!"

To that I refer you to your basic training.  Day 1:  Jason Statham hunts by movement and sound.  If you do not say or do anything, he will walk past you.

How simple is that?

-Your Malevolent Dictator / Crime Boss / Vaguely Ethnic Stereotype of Indeterminate Accuracy