“Mr. Woodcock” Not just no, hell no!
I am so pissed. Of all the jackass, lamebrain pathetic movies I’ve ever seen this one takes the cake. It makes me never want to watch what’szis turdhead face again. This movie is such a crock of crap. I’ts a horror movie for all little fat kids whose coaches treat them like shit.
Synopsis: Billy Bob Thornton plays an asshole prick coach who abuses his students and generally treats them like crap. Flash forward, fifteen or so years later one of the “little fat kids” he abused, Farley, makes it big with a self-help book. (He got over being the little fat kid too, btw, he’s thin and handsome in a stupid-looking sort of way.) He gets called back to his small cornbelt town to take the key to the city thing for his new book. But he discovers the coach is dating his mom AND getting an award for teacher of the year at the same carnival. (It’s called Cornaval, you know, Corn belt… supposed to be funny).
Farley freaks. He tries to one-up Thornton’s character but shit just don’t stick to the coach. All through the movie Farley is made to look more stupid while the prick Woodcock goes around insulting people and having his way. The name “Woodcock” is clearly an inuendo referring to the coach’s ability in bed. Pathetic.
Farley makes a fool of himself at the carnival, is flabbergasted at how everybody says the coach “taught them to be better” and all that bullshit. When he is given his award he stands before the town and asks if he’s the only one who thinks the coach is an asshole. He is, aparently. The Farley character is basically made to look like an idiot. In the end Farley apologizes for the coach, helps him win his mom back (she dumped him in a scene where Woodcock was in the hall threatening to give Farley and “ass-whuppin” for what he said). Farley blesses his mom’s marriage and is kind to the jackass. I said, “NO! THIS is WRONG!”
The whole movie is supposed to be funny, I guess, slapstick, whatever. But I thought it was disgusting. I know Buddha would frown on my attitude but this kind of crap really gets under my skin.
I was the pissed-on fat kid in school. In Jr. High I was treated like crap by students and teachers alike. The same happened in HS. There was nothing wonderful or inspiring in being called fat, a looser, or treated like shit. Hundreds of thousands of kids go through life with their guts hanging out because they were treated the way Thornton’s character treated students. I am one of them.
Whoever wrote the movie had to be a prom queen or top athlete or someone who looked down on the fat kids, the quiet kids, the nurds, just as much as Woodcock. The movie gets lots of mileage out of Woodcock making idiots out of students. It also does a fine job too revealing how nurdish kids grow up to be nurdish adults. It’s one of the nastiest films in history towards the kind of people who do not make it to CEO or Mayor. In other words, to people like me.
My parents never, ever understood the crap I took in school. Nobody in my family did. Mom and Dad never knew why I became what I became. Gym class was the worst of the worst. I was always the butt of the joke, the first to be slammed, the easy mark. I can say without any hesitation that the treatment I got in school scarred me for life. I found inspiration in lots of places but not in the hell I went through in school.
It all began when I was in 3rd grade and a teacher took a disliking to me. She not only made me clean my own vomit up one day when I got sick but she managed to label me with a nick-name, a bastardization of my real name that stuck with me all through school. My real name was bad enough. The nick-name was worse. I learned to hate it. I still remember that evil teacher. And no, I will not tell you what my real name is or what that name was.
In Jr. High the coaches loved murderball. They had these little rubber balls they’d throw out to students lined up on each side of the gym. In the hands of a good thrower the damn things hurt. I was always the kid who was first out. Why? Because once the whistle blew I was the first target. BAM.
I wound up working for the coach doing laundry and sweeping rather than doing PE. I would not and could not do the exercises they expected me to do. I have always been very shortwinded. And I was fat.
A coach once tried to intimidate me by yelling at me to force me to run. I never did. I walked. I walked and walked. The course went around a baseball field. Each time I would get to the side where the coach waited I would get yelled at. I just walked on. Eventually he gave up and left me alone.
From third grad on I was in hell at school. The nasty nick-name, my being fat, my horrid homelife at the time, all turned me into the kind of kid everybody likes to hate. By the time I was in Jr. High I was already the ass everybody liked to slap. I had the awful misfortune to attend the same school my whole life, a pathetic excuse of a redneck school called Hudson. The whole school was all on one campus then so everybody from 1st to 12th knew who the nerds were. I was king nerd.
In HS I never played sports. Why should I? People only shoved me around and treated me cruelly. Once, I remember very clearly, all the guys came up and said, “hey, we’re sorry, how about playing with us? A little football, what you say?” I was overwhelmed. Until, that is, I realized what they were up to but then it was too late. They wanted to play kill the quarterback and I was it. They put me in the middle, threw the ball, and then both teams jumped on me. I was banged up and bruised and hurting all over. What did the coach do? Laugh. He laughed. How funny. Not.
I do not know why I have always been pegged as the sucker. I have, but I don’t know why. I went to boy scouts for a while. I was in a troop where nobody knew who I was. It was great for a while. I actually had a couple of friends. My friend down the road, a bit younger than I, was also in the troop and he is the one that got me going there. But then came the summer camp. We went to Camp Pirtle.
Know what happened the very first night? The troop chose ME to be the sucker. They squeezed toothpaste in my mouth and on my face and covered my head with shaving creme after I went to sleep. I woke choking and burning. The shaving cream had menthol in it and the toothpaste had strong mint. I flew up from my bunk and took off for the wash rack across camp. It was pitch black. I ran into several trees and was bruised by the time I got the crap off my head.
I went back to my tent and packed my gear. I was fully determined to walk back home if the scoutmaster didn’t take me. They talked me into staying by giving me a tent by myself far away from the rest of the troop and basically letting me do what I wanted. I ended up fishing all week. The camp was on a lake called Murvaul and I was very familiar with it. We fished it all the time, my family and I. I caught a lot of fish, stayed to myself, and had little to do with the assholes who chose me to screwup. It was NOT funny. Being the butt of a joke and the local ass is not funny. My scouting days ended with that campout.
It’s true. I can be a dumbass. I was and am fat. I’m a little slow sometimes. I am lousy with people. I’m weird on occasion. I’m all those things and more. I’m the low-life schmuck. But you know what? I’m a human being. I’m a real, honest to God human being. I do not deserve that kind of shit. I never did. Just because some kid does not measure up, just because he’s different or weird or slow, nobody has the right to treat him like shit.
The most bizarre part is that I never did hate any of those cruel people. Never. I was plenty hurt, disapointed, angry once in a while but never did I hate them. In spite of how I was treated I wound up turning to Christianity and wishing to see them “saved.” Go figure.
You know, sitting here at midnight railing against that horrid movie I have been inspired to write my life story. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll set the record straight. Maybe I’ll do a little anti-inspirational writing about the hell Hudson School put me through.
Let me just make a few parting comments to the writers of that movie and to all the pretty people in the world:
First, the movie is not funny. If you think it is funny then you’re an asshole. Second, if you’re “pretty people,” if you’re one of those with a sweet group of friends and live on a nice street and you’ve ever looked down your nose at someone like me and said, “I’m glad I’m not that guy,” you are an asshole too. Nothing personal, you understand, except that you are contemptible, pathetic, disgusting and cruel. Your attitude is one of the greatest destroyers in this world. I know you don’t give a damn. I know you find me offensive. I know you will brush the shit dust off your sleeve and turn away as if from a tiny barking dog but I speak anyway. I am writer. I have voice. And some day when you are old and wrinkled and fading away I hope you remember how cruel and heartless you were and gag. At least, gag a little.
For every winner there has to be a looser. If you consider yourself a “winner” never forget someone had to put you there. We “loosers” put you where you are. Don’t ever forget that… asshole.
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