An Open Letter to Bruce Campbell

You snuck up on me, man. Like, blindsided.

I’m a…moviephile?...whatever you call someone who loves movies. (Filmophile? Gah.) I’ve watched you hundreds of times…I’ve seen “Evil Dead”, I chuckled my way through every episode of “The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr.”, I watched and re-watched “Army of Darkness” so many times that the phrase “First ya wanna kill me, then you wanna kiss me…blow” is part of my vernacular. (Along with “Gimme some sugar, baby”, and “Clatto Verata Necktie”, which I was repeating Rain-man-like this morning when my countenance was trying to assimilate 5 a.m. Chanting like, perhaps, invoking the spirit of some some groovy space-alien who would dissolve into the room, zapping me with sleep rays, so my brain wouldn’t feel like the slippery insides of a can of creamed corn. “Groovy” was also MY catchphrase before you used it in the movie. I am both hip and totally out of date. But I digress.)

I know who you are, and yes, I squeal your name aloud when I see you in some cameo role. The phrase, “Hey look! It’s Bruce Campbell!” is well-worn in our household.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I was casually wandering through the bookstore, catching some graphic novels and comic books for the kiddies, when on the table full of anime and Death-Metal art, I saw a familiar face leering at me from a book cover…”Make Love!…the Bruce Campbell Way!”

“Hey look! It’s Bruce Campbell!”, I yelled to my husband.

Seeing that the kids got something, and needing something "fun", I grabbed said tome and headed to the cash register. I had a weekend where a book would fit in just fine, thankyouverymuch, and this juicy little steak would be most satisfying. I took that puppy home, plopped down in a comfy chair…and got sucked in. (To the book, not the chair, I do NOT live in a horror movie.) I read. And read. Madedinnerputthekidstobed…and read. Slept. Got up. Read more. Read the end. Stared at the book jacket. Opened to page 1 and read the first 30 pages again.

Thing is, and forgive me for being so simple, but I was surprised.

The.
Book.
Was.
Good.

Funny, witty, twisted…it fit me like that old denim shirt I refuse to throw away, the one with the sleeve coming off and the mysterious stain on the left boob. Reading it was like eating my favorite dessert…a handful of chocolate chips thrown in my mouth, followed by endless squirting of Hershey’s chocolate syrup, dripping down my chin, my naked body, making a puddle on the floor for the dog to lick up as I swallow chocolate and chocolate and chocolate. (Wait…that’s part of a different fantasy. Well, the analogy will have to stand as read, because chocolate and nakedness are just about as happy as I can get.)

Then it hit me…Bruce Campbell is not just a B-movie actor…Bruce Campbell is a smart guy, an interesting guy, a talented guy, a guy who can laugh at the twisted machinations of us squishy skin-bags called 'humans'.

I pulled out our box-set of “Brisco County Jr” and pored over the episodes. I bought the other book, “If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B-Movie Actor”. And the ultimate…I Googled “Bruce Campbell” and found a myriad of links (a website, man? Oh lawd, be still me heart!).

Yeah, baby, you could say I’m hooked.

I have no stalker-ish instincts (I mean, puh-leeze, I can’t even stalk myself to the gym), but I will admit to now pondering adding the name “Bruce Campbell” to my Fantasy Boyfriend list. (Brendan Shanahan, as much as I love you, you deceived me, and you must go.) Pondering. And will decide for sure later. After I finish this bottle of Hershey’s syrup and get dressed.

Bruce. You rock.

Sincerely,

Mona Buonanotte