jason voorhees

Young Jason Voorhees fell out of a boat during a summer trip to Camp Crystal Lake and died because his jacknut camp counselors were far too busy drinking old bong water and fornicating like wild animals in heat.  Totally ripshit pissed that he was killed in such an un-badass manner, Jason now constantly seeks bloody vengeance by ruthlessly disemboweling camp counselors, negligent authority figures, drug addicts, prostitutes, teenagers, and anybody who is either drinking, partying, having sex, breathing, or generally just hanging around being not dead.  When he’s not living underwater like an undead, sword-swinging godzilla, Voorhees enjoys, long walks in the dark, stabbing people in the gonads, breaking windows, and/or getting struck by lightning.

A six and a half foot tall mountain man running around in the woods wearing a hockey mask and carrying a machete pretty much demands to be taken seriously, and Jason Voorhees is certainly no exception to this ancient rule.  In addition to perpetually looking like a demonic, fucked-up cross between felix potvin and a roto-tiller, he’s also got all of the necessary aspects of “badass attitude” down to a science – this gigantic monster of an emotionless automaton doesn’t talk, he doesn’t crack a bunch of lame-ass jokes, and he’s hideously ugly underneath his mask, which can only count for bonus points as far as I’m concerned.  Hell, he doesn’t even have a good reason for killing people.  It’s not like he suffers from some kind of crazy misplaced rage or has a wicked chip on his shoulder about anything in particular – he’s just an unfeeling, merciless, pointy death machine who breaks partying teenagers in half just because he’s really got nothing else going on in his life.  We can probably assume that he likes hockey, seeing as he does have access to a hockey mask (either through legitimate means or by crushing a goalkeeper’s face with his bare hands), but it’s pretty safe to say that’s pretty much the only thing he really gives a crap about.  And hey, he’s not even that die-hard of a fan – in the second movie he doesn’t even don the mask, rather preferring to wear a burlap sack over his head instead.  That’s right, you thought Resident Evil invented that shit, but Jason fucking Voorhees was rocking that look back in the early 80s, bitches.  He’s that much of a fucking trendsetter.

Also in true badass fashion, Jason doesn’t run for shit.  This is partly because real gangsta-ass slashers can’t run fast, but also because he’s usually pretty confident that you’re going to die painfully whether you flee or not, and doesn’t really feel like working up a sweat trying to kill your dumb ass.  It’s a given – it doesn’t matter how fast you run or how well you can dance the robot, Jason Voorhees is still going to fuck your ass up like a car accident and leave your mutilated corpse out in the woods to rot. He’s like the Pepe Le Pew of violent homicide.  Also, he never seems to mind that he’s pretty much constantly being rained on, and – in case you didn’t know this already – standing outside in the freezing-ass cold rain acting like it doesn’t bother you is one of the primary tenets of badassitude.

I also find it interesting that he’s a master of stealth and espionage.  You wouldn’t think he’d be so good at hiding and sneaking up on people, seeing as how he’s a two hundred and fifty pound undead axe-murderer with a raging blood-vendetta against anything and anyone who isn’t currently dead, but apparently that’s just how Jason Voorhees rolls.

Jason’s primary implement of trauma-inducing devastation is the machete – a solid, time-honored method of killing people that’s been effectively utilized for centuries.  Not only is Voorhees quite efficient at decapitating fools with the thing, or impaling both you and your girlfriend while you’re in the middle of doing it, he can also hurl it with deadly accuracy, which is totally sweet.  As awesome as it is to slice a guy in half while he’s walking around on his hands or hack up a kid in a wheelchair and kick him down some stairs, Jason doesn’t even need his three-foot long blade to ruin co-eds weekends worse than a DEA raid on a Cancun beach resort in the middle of Spring Break – he’s more than capable of using anything and everything at his disposal to quickly wreck the shit of dumbass teenagers anywhere he finds them.  Over the years, he’s killed folks with meat cleavers, pitchforks, knitting needles, hacksaws, corkscrews, scalpels, spears, tent pegs, scythes, harpoons, wrenches, ice picks, and hypodermic needles.  One time he actually wrapped a girl up in a sleeping bag and smacked it against a tree, just to be funny.  Another time he popped a dude’s eye out by squeezing his head, and yet another time he punched a professional boxer’s head off with a right hook.  Shit, even Freddy Krueger couldn’t stop this motherfucker – Jason pulled Freddy’s arm off, impaled him with his own glove, and made off with the iconic villain’s severed head.

He’s also an expert marksman with a crossbow, which is pretty rad, and it seems like everywhere he goes chicks end up taking their shirts off.  No shit, his entire life is like a cross between CSI and Girls Gone Slutty.  I’m relatively certain that this has nothing to do with Jason being a babe magnet , but still, it’s pretty difficult for any self-respecting heterosexual male film aficionado to argue with gratuitous female toplessness.

You can’t kill this bastard, either.  He’s been shot, blown up, drowned, burned, electrocuted, and beaten down with everything from axes to hammers, but he just takes a lickin’ and keeps on decapitating co-eds with a machete.  Even when you drown his ass or stab him in the brain with a nail gun, he just gets struck by fucking lightning and pops right back up again like nothing’s wrong. Hell, they even cryogenically froze him once and shot him into space, but this homicidal lunatic just defrosted several thousand years in the future, became a fucking cyborg somehow, and went right back to his nasty habit of murdering college students while they’re off having sex.

It takes a certain kind of badass to make horny teenage boys afraid of running off into the woods to get it on with hot naked babes, but Jason Voorhees has been accomplishing just that for 29 years and counting.  According to the official Friday the 13th website, he’s racked up 146 kills during his blood-splattered film career (not including the new movie), a pretty astonishing total considering that many wannabe professional actors are lucky to get 146 minutes of screen time in their entire careers.  Jason has terrified two generations of motherfuckers, single-handedly made hockey masks frightening, and has succeeded in becoming one of the most iconic movie slashers in film history.  As if all that shit isn’t badass enough, as an added bonus the actor who played him could literally vomit on command, which is so unassailably awesome that it might actually cause things to spontaneously combust.