the return of magic mike
plus that time i hung out with Channing Tatum!
It’s January in Chicago. There’s about six hours of sunlight a day and you know what I need right now?
A forty-something stripper who’s in a mood.
I want the camera at his broad back. I want him staring at the ocean, the roiling abyss a metaphor for his existential angst. I want him to meet Salma Hayek and after he gives her the ride of her life, I want them to cook up a plan to wake up a “numb” and “disconnected” society with his magic abs as he writhes all over Londontown.
Magic Mike’s Last Dance is the insanity I need.
