“You’re out there, Maverick, going Mach 2 with your hair on fire, but you’re always flying like you’re second best.”

Or something like that. I think I just blended a Jester quote with a Charlie quote, but hey. How much do you pay to read this blog? Right. Nothing. Lower your expectations, already.

In Top Gun, Tom Cruise’s character when in flight was always chasing the ghost of his father, Maverick Sr. Trying to follow the legend. The best fighter pilot ever. Or so said Tom Skerritt’s character.

And right here in Colloquial, USA, we’ve seen the final credits roll on Top Gun 2. Not Hot Shots! the crappy parody (though the atmosphere in Titletown has certainly been parody-like). I mean the sequel. Top Gun II. But this time the old man is kicked out of the Navy for being a douchebag, he joins up with the Air Force just to piss off the Navy, and then there’s a huge fucking civil war, and it ends with the douchebag old man sitting in his crashed, un-ejected cockpit, sobbing as the flames engulf him, and as the camera angle gets wide, there’s a young, blue-eyed pilot for the Good Guys looking skyward into the distance, hands on hips.

I think.

Or how about this.

Aaron Rodgers has the impossible task of following a legend. Only one time in the history or history has another quarterback done it. And he’s in the Hall of Fame, too. So far? Serving as starter for the NFC in the Pro Bowl (yadda-yadda, I know, Drew Breeze. Superbowl. Brett Favre. Injury. But you know this, too: Pro Bowl. Starter)? Pretty damn good start, following the legend. I’d tell you I watched the game, but to quote the worst fight song writer on the planet, I was getting to this thing called life. Watch the Pro Bowl? Right after I shave my nut sack and empty the crap from the bottom of the silverware drawer. How does all that stuff get IN there, anyway?!

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