Airborne (1993)

I'm not sure how this movie made it past my childhood without stopping in to knock me on the head and proclaim it's awesomeness - I'll go ahead and blame it on the feminine blights of my candy-coated kiddy-hood as a little girl with the sole desire of rocking a wicked mullet. But it has finally dropped by, and my life has clearly been forever changed. What is the goodness that could create such a stirring effect in my discriminating (cough cough) movie brain? Well let me tell you kind gentlesirs. This most excellent piece of cinematic tubularosity is clearly the epitome of everything that was so awesomely radical about the righteous year of 1993. In essence my dudes, it is a time capsule. And not of the terrors of cult warfare, Rodney King and Somalian executions, but instead of all the things that are holy to an adolescent boy. That's right: surfing, skate boarding, rollerblading, hockey, basketball and girrrrls. There's even Seth Green primarily dressed as a goth guerrilla, but willing to undertake the most glorious scene in the move in which he parades around in a flurry of every stereotyped outfit that existed in 1993, all while set to knee-knocking tunes. Oh yeah, and a young Jack Black takes on the role of the quasi(modo)-bully, ready to represent the MidWest in a flurry of jean jackets and bushy eyebrows. Let the games begin.






In summary, I only have one thing to say: To those individuals who are reading this blog in the distant future, I must heartily recommend the moving picture "Airborne" as a stunningly accurate historical representation of life in 1993 for young adolescent, white, males. Use this text as you see fit. And remember: long live the 90's!

Final Judgment: Let us all be stylin'