Okay, so where am I?

It’s almost time to leave town…vacation style. Well, working vacation. Actually just working at my moonlighting gig. Shhhhh, it’s top secret. Okay, okay, I admit it…I’m going to Moscow.

With the release of Creed II, I recall that last year in high school when my best bud Charlie got me into a cast and crew screening of Rocky IV. Nothing would ever be the same. I was captivated by Ivan Drago’s nine lines of dialogue.*

Do you know what else moves me? That Rocky Balboa ended the Cold War. There were many critical events that happened in the 1980’s that paved the way for the eventual end of the Cold War in 1991. Some of these events were quite literal, while others were more symbolic.

No one will ever forget Ronald Reagan’s immortal words spoken in Berlin in 1987, “Mr. Gorbachev, Tear down this wall!” Likewise, the images of the 1980 United States hockey team pulling off the stunning upset of the Soviets are permanently ingrained in the memories of everyone who witnessed the feat.

It has now been over 25 years since another epic sporting event helped bring an end to communism in the former Soviet Union. I am speaking of the larger than life boxing match between American heavy weight champion Rocky Balboa and the Russian challenger, Ivan Drago.

The Miracle in Moscow is still one of the most memorable boxing matches of all time. Both fighters entered the match coming from completely different situations. Balboa hadn’t fought anyone in three years since a stunning third round KO of then champion Clubber Lang. Despite this large gap between fights, he still was a veteran of 78 matches, sporting a record of 56-22. Drago, on the other hand, was relatively unknown and just months removed from a shocking victory over former champion Apollo Creed, in which Creed suffered fatal injuries from the powerful punches of Drago.

Drago was immediately recognized as a villain in the United States after Creed’s death, especially with his callous remarks following the fight, saying of Creed, “If he dies, he dies.” In addition to this there were wide spread rumors of Drago using anabolic steroids, which were later substantiated in 1998.

For fear of his safety, Drago’s camp was insistent the fight take place in Moscow, instead of the United States. “They call him a killer. He is a professional fighter, not a killer,” said Drago’s wife, Ludmilla. “We are getting death threats. We are not involved in politics. All I want is for my husband to be safe, and to be treated fairly.”

Nicoli Koloff, who served as Drago’s business manager until 1988, was especially critical of the U.S. government and wanted no part of another fight in America. He accused the American government of trying to slander Drago’s reputation. “We fight in Soviet Union or we fight nowhere,” he said at a promotional press conference for the match. “It’s all lies and false propaganda to support this antagonistic and violent government.”

Not only was Balboa 45 pounds lighter than Drago, but he also surrendered seven inches of height to the daunting Russian. Many were surprised when Balboa had agreed to the fight, saying it was suicide, that he couldn’t win. “I was concerned because we had seen him,” said Adrian Balboa, Rocky’s wife. “We knew how strong he was.”

Drago was unquestionably a juggernaut. Anyone who witnessed the fight against Creed had to be impressed by Ivan’s astonishing strength. “Whatever he hits, he destroys,” Koloff remarked on Drago’s punches.

Balboa himself knew he faced an up hill battle. “No, maybe I can’t win,” he said before the fight. “Maybe the only thing I can do is just take everything he’s got. But to beat me he’s gonna have to kill me, and to kill me he’s gonna have to stand in front of me and be willing to die himself. I don’t know if he’s ready to do that.”

To say the atmosphere in Moscow was hostile to begin the fight would have been a huge understatement. Balboa was serenaded to a steady chorus of boos from the angry Soviet crowd as he entered the arena. It was as if they finally had the opportunity to release 40 years of pent up frustration on America, all on the shoulders of one man.

The first round of the match went exactly as everyone expected. Drago landed heavy bombs on Balboa, who’s wobbly legs didn’t look like they would last three rounds. But in the second round Drago received an unexpected cut over his eye thanks to a hook from Balboa. “I was pretty excited about that,” Balboa’s trainer Tony “Duke” Evers would later say. “I told him he’s not a machine. He’s a man! He’s a man!”

Even though Drago controlled much of the fight, it was clear Balboa was not going to go down easily. Over the course of the 15 round match the gritty American took the best punches the dominant Soviet could throw at him. “He’s not human,” remarked Drago. “He’s like a piece of iron.”

Perhaps more astonishing than Balboa lasting through the entire fight, was the reception he was receiving. Towards the latter end of the match, the venom from the Soviet crowd was turning into applauds. Everyone in the arena was inspired by the heart showed by the determined Balboa.

Still, Balboa entered the last round well behind in points and needed an improbable knock out to come out victorious. About half way through the round it was clear to everyone Rocky was going to do the impossible. After sustaining a series of blows Drago finally hit the canvas, unable to get up. Balboa had won.

The inspiring battle now complete, Balboa’s post game remarks to the crowd stirred everyone, both Soviet and American alike: “During this fight, I’ve seen a lot of changing, in the way you feel about me, and in the way I feel about you. I guess what I am trying to say is, if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change!”

The fighters went their separate ways after the match. Drago fell into relative obscurity, only making news again after evidence of his steroids scandal surfaced in the late ’90’s. Balboa went into retirement after he sustained brain damage from the blows dealt to him over a lustrous career in pugilism. Later he briefly managed eventual heavy weight champ, Tommy Gunn, until their relationship soured in 1990. He followed that up with a return to the ring in 2006 only to be defeated by Mason Dixon.

The dream Balboa had in 1985 of change slowly took place. Four years later the Berlin Wall fell, two years after that communism and the Soviet Union collapsed. Balboa’s assistance in ending the Cold War is certainly understated, but as evidenced by history, it also cannot be denied.

Ivan Drago’s Nine Lines of Dialogue

Don’t believe me? Here they are:

1. “You will lose.”

2. “I cannot be defeated.”
3. “I defeat all men.”

4. “Soon I defeat real champion.”
5. “If he dies, he dies.”

6. “I must break you.”

7. “He’s not a human. He’s like a piece of iron.”

8. “I fight to win, for me. For me!”

9. “Until the end.”

The post MEDIA CHAMPIONS: Rocky IV and the Cold War appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

I can tell you that I’m not in federal court with one of those cantankerous Californians filing lawsuits against Starbucks, hell-bent on taking down the the java king over underfilling their lattes. I mean, geez, cozy up to the barista and get a little more milk poured in. Last time I complained, I got a free drink and a new coffee. What a deal!

There may be some truth that I am at the movies taking in Central Intelligence, starring Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart. I’m not used to standing on line for a movie, but I definitely wanted to smell what The Rock was cooking and I had a fresh, fully-filled Venti drip from the aforementioned Starbucks, so life was good. The movie didn’t disappoint, but honestly, the movie industry itself is starting to disappoint.

They seem to be in panic mode because of Netflix, spiraling costs and the rude, loud unwelcoming nature of the movie theatre experience itself. But as I sat through nine movie trailers (yes! nine! — shame on you Cinemark) totaling twenty-four minutes I realized something else: there’s no mysteries or surprise anymore.

Now there is so much information, so far in advance before a movie comes out that it’s anti-climatic. Everything about it is known. You feel like you’ve already seen it. What was intended to promote a film, now serves as buzzkill instead.

I loved the movies once. Still do. I went with my mom to see a movie almost every Tuesday when I was a kid. Top Gun was in theaters so long that I was able to take three different dates hoping to find that lost, loving feeling. (The same crash and burn scenario occurred all three times, yikes!) Now my son and I count the days down to the next Star Wars installment a year in advance.

My first theater experience I can remember was seeing the blockbuster Earthquake in 1974 when disaster movies were all the rage. I remember looking up in awe at the big screen and waiting for the Sensurround to kick in.

What’s Sensurround you ask? Only the greatest thing ever in 1974! Here’s the theater notice that appeared in newspapers all over the country:

“ATTENTION! This motion picture will be shown in the startling new multi-dimension of Sensurround. Please be aware that you will feel as well as see and hear realistic effects such as might be experienced in an actual earthquake. The management assumes no responsibility for the physical or emotional reactions of the individual viewer.”

Who wouldn’t want that?! Yet, I digress…

Anyway, as the opening credits rolled all I knew was this was an epic disaster movie set in my hometown of Los Angeles and you knew it starred Charlton Heston, Ava Gardner, Lorne Greene, and George Kennedy. Beyond that? Everything was onscreen, unfolding right before my wide eyes. Today? You would have seen a sneak peak trailer sponsored by Pepsi a year ago. You would have read reviews, seen a bunch of Internet bloggers dissecting it, along with IMDB and Rotten Tomatoes, reviewed that would have added to you skepticism to see the movie in the first place.

If Earthquake comes out today, I am already sick of it before I click on Fandango to order a movie ticket. I not only know what parts of Los Angeles are ruined, but also how many died and how many floors are left of the Capitol Records Building. Why? Because all of the details would have been reviewed over and over again.

Hey movie industry, SPOILER ALERT!: you’re spoiling the movie going experience by vomiting too much information about the movie before it’s released. It would be like George R.R. Martin revealing the end of the last Game of Thrones book in the Forward. Bring back the mystery and mystique.

There are no movie scenes anymore that make us gasp because they’ve all been rumored, teased, speculated, or openly discussed or seen. There can never be the surprise of a Psycho shower scene because we would have already seen it in the trailer and watch Alfred Hitchcock dissect it on Conan or Jimmy Kimmel Live.

Movies should be an escape from reality. And I mean the modern reality of knowing way too much about the movie before you plan your Friday night trek to the movieplex.

How about bringing back ignorance as bliss?

When I walk into a theater, I want to literally and figuratively be in the dark about what I want to see.

Give it a try yourself and you’ll find that you like your movie experience that much more.

The post Movies Have Lost That Loving Feeling appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

First, the big news…

It only took three years, but my movie “Black Hand” is set to premiere in South Korea. The thriller I penned (and was later translated by the great Byeon Hye-joo) has a wonderful cast including Han Go-eun who goes a bit haywire after her new hand she had surgically attached provides some eerie drama. Not for the weak of heart. Maybe a Grand Bell Award (aka Daejong Film Award) is in my future.

Okay, so where am I?

There is no truth to the rumor I am in South Korea attending the premiere of Black Hand. AND, I may or may not be in working on my next pieces of advertising so that my next Emmy submissions are top notch.

What I can tell you is that I may have detoured through Pamplona, Spain for the running of the bulls, aka  the Las Fiestas de San Fermin. There’s something you feel in the soul when you hear the rustling of the crowd eager to soak in the testosterone cloud emitted from the raging bulls. You feel an aura around you, as if you were part of the herd. A day in Pamplona does nothing but help you on your journey towards inner chi.

Those that know me will know that I’ve long said to my best buddy Charles that we are simply on a vision quest…just trying to find a place in the circle. The running is definitely part of the grand quest. It’s also one of the world’s most dangerous spectacles (and also one of the true parties left on this planet). To succeed you must avoid being gored. You must also be three things: Cautious. Sober. Fast.

That being said, you cannot be afraid of the bulls. I refuse to be. After all, there are scarier clients in the boardroom after a bad advertising campaign that cost millions. When I find myself in the herd’s center, I feel a sublime safety. “How is that possible?”, you ask… When you are are part of the herd, the bulls are somehow united with your being. They sense you are part of the herd, running with them every step of the way. I despise those “daredevils” that need to put their hands on them, pushing, hitting or grabbing them. That went they get defensive. That’s when the fire burns deep inside these magnificent creature. True runners know this truth: Never touch the bulls.

THE VIRGIN RUN

I remember my first run. I was shut out the previous time I went because I was in advertising executive mode — at the hotel awaiting my continental breakfast and a private sedan ride to the run. That was definitely not a recipe for success. I couldn’t even get close enough to take a picture of the bulls let alone run with them. The next time was different. I decided to stay up all night and be in prime position near the arena. I nodded off in a restaurant doorway only to be shoo’ed away by the local police and general treated like a vagabond. I mean do they know who I am?

I jokingly thought I was a kinda of big deal, ala Ron Burgundy. I learned pretty quick that the bulls are the only big deal in Pamplona. In my 3am haze, I staggered to the Hemingway statue.

Hemingway Aside #1: This is definitely one off the oddest statues I have ever seen. The full-bearded depiction of the literary giant shows him in his stoic glory, the bust meticulously finished and polished. Then, they took this beautiful bust and dumped it onto a mess of a concrete block as if the money for the project ran out. Strange indeed.

Hemingway Aside #2: His work was the fodder of inspiration. Do you remember the books we were assigned to read? The Count of Monte Cristo, the Three Musketeers and the like? Yawnsville. Hemingway’s work was relatable and adventurous: old fishermen and soldiers and street fighters. You wanted to write like him. And you did, until you found your own style. He once wrote, “There is nothing better than to be shot at and missed.” What could sum up a grand adventure better than that?!

Yet I digress…

At the foot statue of the statue sits a lovely makeshift bed in the form of a rounded brick slope. I rested there until the dawn’s sun served as my alarm clock. Workers had already secured the barricades about 100 feet away and so I wandered to Telefonica; that’s the area where the street widens and it becomes impossible to keep the herd of bulls grouped together. I must say that the locals are nothing short of stunning—both sexes. As a younger Media Guy, my flirt scale was still on 9,000 RPMs and thus I tried my best non-gawking Spanglish on the any young lady who stopped long enough. Some made eyes, some whispered “gringo”, but most just giggled at my one hundred poorly-constructed words of Spanish. Then, panic set in.

The police line came from nowhere, reminiscent of a swarm of locust striking some unsuspecting farmer’s crops. The line closed in and pushed everyone up the street and through the first barricade on the first intersection on Estafeta. Everyone scattered from down side streets, through alleys and around building. I was already tired and I hadn’t seen a bull yet. My chest ached and then I heard the beacon of hope: the loudspeakers blaring something in multiple languages. I followed the voice like those hypnotized Eloi as they moved towards the Morlock’s underground horror pit in The Time Machine.

All at once I was trapped in a sea of humanity. The body-to-body pressure was crushing and it ebbed and flowed in unison with our collective breathing. Dawn had turned into 7:45a and the loudspeaker finally started screaming in English, which turned out to be more startling than the suffocating crowd:

“Bull runners are in danger of great bodily harm—if you fall down, stay down.”

This only charged the crowd as the murmur turned into a roar of great proportions. It took a few moments until the police line broke free and we unraveled up the street. I moved to to La Curva, aka the curve, aka Dead Man’s Corner, aka Hamburger Wall. This was THE SPOT. This is where the herd crashes every morning. The media and photographers hang here, protected from the police with the media badges. My international press card came in handy here as I flashed it liberally to avoid being moved yet again.

A rocket screamed into the sky and was quickly followed by a second. The crowd in the balconies and behind the remaining barricades surged with energy and wild noise. The runners were now in full motion, flowing around the corner and past me creating a breeze. Their expressions ran the full gambit of emotions: Cavalier. Scared. Excited.

The ground began to quake as a the galloping murmur of hooves grew to rumble. The mass of runners poured around the curve dressed in white with red scarves. It was dense and carries a certain stench of sweat and fear. This group was united in terror and each second seemed like hours. Time was grinding to halt and then, it simply froze.

Cartoons like to show the bull staring across at the matador with menacing red eyes. I often laughed at that as a child, but as the massive brown bull streaked around the curve I locked into his eyes. If I were older, my heart surely would have stopped as his red eyes literally put me squarely in his own bullseye. The unforgiving cobblestones could not absorb me or shield me from death. But then a foolish angel intervened. A runner crossed in front of me and took the full force of the lead bull’s forehead. As if in slow-motion, the man hovered on a blanket of air above the bull’s head as his arms flailed higher above as five other bulls thundered past. The man crashed to the side of me and he scurried towards safety, somehow gaining his feet. A giant white steer basically said “not so fast” as he barreled towards the man plowed through him, its hooves gobbling him up. The high-pitched grown that squeezed from his chest still haunts me today. Somehow he limped away without serious damage.

Two lives saved.
One grand story.
Viva los toros!

AD OF THE WEEK/MONTH/WHATEVER

M&M’s Tainted Love Spot

“Our latest commercial shows how irresistible M&M’s really are in a way that’s part comedy, and part soap opera,” says BBDO VP of Marketing Berta de Pablos-Barbier. “We think viewers will have fun with all the twists and turns, and see how it’s even more fun to share M&M’S Chocolate Candies versus keeping them all for yourself.”

Fittingly, the 80’s classic “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell closes out the spot.

WAXY FUN

I couldn’t resist sharing this from London’s Madame Toussauds – Helen Mirren checking herself out at this week’s press conference. Classic!

RIP Roddy Piper

He ruled the squared circle as one of its greatest non-champions. He didn’t need a belt to prove his worth. We was the king of the interview and knew how to hit people over the head with a coconut. He taught me how to think on my feet and pour out words in great volume while captivating a room. He is the king of the soliloquy. Long live the king…you will be missed.

The post Bullsh*t! appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

Conceptualize the campaign.
Craft the copy.
Art direct the graphics designers.
Gain approvals.
Go into production.
Rinse and repeat.

The life of the Media Guy isn’t always so tame and simple…especially with the cameras role. Ah, the drama. Perhaps the biggest drama what you encounter behind the scenes.

In the not-too-distant past, I had to babysit one of those sweet-on-the-surface, yet vicious maneaters.

Winston Churchill once said, “When you’re going through hell, keep on driving.” What’s hell like when you’re babysitting a maneater / diva? Keep on reading…

Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up!

…She has a wry, vivacious smile. Her smirk lets you know she was forever up to something. The California blonde with piercing blue eyes stopped all in her path. She lucked into the lead in television pilot. And despite the fact that dozens and dozens of pilots are made every year (only a few make it to air) she was already planning her Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony. The pandering folk whose bills were paid by her fleeting stardom, made her into a poster child for entitlement. I was no different. My assignment was to keep her happy and show her around Los Angeles. My time with her would be well spent I was told because it would be easier to ghostwrite her blog for the new show.

Uhm, ok.

What really ensued — in the immortal words of Jerry McGuire — was “an up-at-dawn, pride-swallowing siege that I will never fully tell you about.” Here’s a quick rundown of what happened around town:

The Producer’s “Punk-Ass Car.”


So where are we? We’re driving down Cahuenga Boulevard after a private shoot at the Hollywood Bowl and she spots the producer of her show driving two cars in front of us in his vintage 1960’s Mini Cooper. She starts laughing and pointing at his red cherry car, saying “Look at this guy and his punk-ass car. It’s like a roller coaster car. Where are the clowns? Oh there he is driving! He’s on of those executives who wants to be all cool in his fake hipster car.”

So we both turn into the sound stage parking lot where the filming will be later in the day, and she sees the producer jumping out of his car. “HEY HEY HEY Honeeeeeyyy! I was watching you for miles and miles. I told Michael here that this was your punk-ass car.” So great. Not only did she insult her boss, but she insulted mine. She didn’t care. All she wanted was her 140-degree coffee from Starbucks.

Phone Booth “Fun”

The only person more neurotic than a copywriter on deadline is the Maneating Diva when someone is trying to steal her spotlight. “There she is! That self-loathing bitch!,” she said of her sweet, brunette co-star with equally stunning green eyes. “She’s a awkward, obnoxious dork. We’ve had fistfights, cat fights and shouting matches. Everywhere I turn, there she is!”

As much as the Diva was an up-and-coming nobody, the Self-Loathing B was at least a B-level star [think Baywatch]. Yet I digress…

…Apparently the Maneating Diva and the Self-Loathing B have had their issues on the set — giving a co-star’s boyfriend a Benadryl-laced brownie can strain a friendship you know — and their real-life relationship has its moments as well. Like the time the Self-Loathing B invited the Maneating Diva to a group therapy session, only to have the anxieties of twenty waitresses, er, actresses, send her running.

Now, the Self-Loathing B admits to being in therapy for ten years now, and says she’s even tried to persuade her directors to go with her. “She went in and out,” the B said. “She ran out once when I took her. Ran out! In group therapy! We caught her in a phone booth on Hollywood Boulevard hiding from ten neurotic actresses. And we’re saying, ‘You need us!’ And she’s saying, ‘I don’t need anybody!’ And she wouldn’t come out. And I don’t know if she ever went back to therapy.”

The Germaphobe

Judging from the photo on the left — and I'[m sure you are — the Maneater can be a real germaphobe and she is! No hair stylist is allowed to touch her hair without non-latex gloves. So usually, she does her hair herself. My favorite thing to do to her was when we had to stop to eat, I would come out of the men’s room going like this [shaking both hands and leaning in for a hug]. And she will not shake hands or get near you for days if she’s seen you go to the bathroom.”

All of this might seam pedestrian — like creating a media campaign on Thursday — but let me tell you it’s no picnic. Be warned! The Maneater will you you up. Boy will she ever. So how do you spot one away from the movie set? Read on…

Spotting a Maneater

Whether her actions are blatantly visible or tactfully discrete, familiarity with the characteristics of a maneater will help in spotting one instantly. The male equivalent, often referred to as a player, is praised and envied. When a woman mirrors the moves of a player, she is regularly begrudged by women and loathed by men – merely because they cannot have her. Ever since Nelly Furtado’s release of the notable hit Maneater in 2006, I’ve been fascinated by the woman that “you wish you never ever met her at all.” After understanding the characteristics of a maneater, you’ll know when you’re in the presence of one and even how to mimic her if that’s your desire!

1. CALLS THE SHOTS
Of all the characteristics of a maneater, bossiness is never absent. She makes the decisions according to her own time and needs leaving the man utterly powerless. A maneater rarely initiates contact, and when called or texted, she chooses if the man’s worthy of her time before responding. Meetings occur if, where, and when she wants. Her attention is so difficult to grasp that, to a man, it’s disguised as a reward. If he fails to see things her way, he quickly returns to her list of nobodies.

2. NEVER IMPRESSED
When a man no longer considers fulfilling a women’s wishes a challenge, he will begin to lose interest. While avoiding acting repulsed, she will instead act unmoved by his attempts at impressing her. His natural response is to try harder because he’s failed to measure up to men she is used to. Although she may tender a “thank you” and reward him here and there, she will always give the impression that his efforts could be better – in order to conspicuously abolish his ego. If she and the man are sexually active, she’ll use this as a leverage. For all the things he does for her, he earns a rightfully deserved sexual encounter – and more importantly, scarcely rare.

3. DISAPPEARS FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH
Every maneater has a knack for the disappearing act. A woman’s absence makes a man yearn for the slightest speck of attention. He’ll wonder for days what he did wrong, who replaced him, and if he’ll ever get her back. Undermining his confidence will only inflate hers because she’s succeeded at making him feel lame. This will cause the man to try millenniums harder to please her if she ever gives him the chance. Whether her disappearance lasts a few days or even months, he will be severely impacted by it.

4. MULTIPLE VICTIMS AT A TIME
The most necessary attribute of a maneater is the refusal of developing feelings. Receiving attention from multiple men at a time makes it easier for her to resist the temptation of falling for one of them. While instilling the fear that she at any time may move on to another man, she will stress to each one that they are the only one. Men don’t like to share, and if the woman they are pursuing is associating with other men, they may lose interest. She’ll avoid posting evidence to social media and portraying PDA simply to keep her options open.

5. AVOIDS RELATIONSHIPS
Although a maneater may at some point surrender to caring for someone other than herself, she will then be considered retired. Maneaters consider solely their own feelings, not those of others. A girl whose boyfriend is constantly on his knees longing to please her can often be mistaken for a maneater, but unless she’s not committed or invested in the relationship at all, she is not one. Some girls are sneaky and engage in relationships, only that are advantageous to them, while continuing to fraternize with other men. Remember, a maneater’s goal is to lure a man into an obsession with her and spits him out. This is, of course, until she finds a man who does the same to her!

6. EVERYONE ENVIES HER INDIVIDUALITY

She is unique, confident, and has the attention of every person in the room – including women. To be a maneater, you must be unafraid of being alone and unaffected by other people’s opinions. She knows the importance of always appearing beautiful, fashionable, and desirable. She does her own thing and doesn’t take notice of her competition because, in her opinion, she has none. It is important to maintain the composure of being the girl everyone wants to be – not jealous, insecure, or competitive. If a guy doesn’t want her, she forgets him and finds one that does.

7. GUY’S GIRL
A maneater is well versed in befriending men even if it is just as friends. She is accustomed to placing men in the friend zone because she only dates the best of the best. She’s used to watching the game, playing video games, and even shooting hoops with the guys. Men adore women that can be one of the guys. She exudes confidence while doing so and even uses this time to flirt around.

Maneating is a dangerous and not something you want to make a habit of! It can really come back to bite you in the butt, which is why it’s important to not be too heavily determined on mirroring these traits. Do you know a maneater, or are you one? Are there more characteristics you’d like to share?

The post The Maneater appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

The post SPOILER ALERT appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.