Part Two

Rob Schneider, like John “This is medium and I asked for well” Donne or Alexander “Sure, I’ll hear your confession even though I’m not the” Pope before him, can tap into the public’s collective psyche with relative ease. Schneider has always understood what the people want. Which is a gift that hardly applies to every artist. But once he finds it, he delivers it. And there’s no apologizing or hedging from this animal.

It goes a long way to explain the production of Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo. The protagonist was a tireless soul, incapable of resting on his laurels, despite being steeped in a massive tea fortune. Americans crave movie sequels the way other populations yearn for potable water. Because both need it to live.

The question any reasonable individual sleeping on a freshly-painted park bench would ask is this: why do we have to receive our sequel fix from cinema alone? It’s a fair one. Relying on Hollywood to give us what we want is foolish. Just consider their most notable misses. If Schneider failed to give us a second Hot Chick, what hope is there that these California elites will keep up their end of the bargain? It’s 2020 and by now we should have had Battlefield Mars and Paul Blart: Subway Cop. Even those franchises that seem to understand our desire for more come up short. In all the films about Gotham’s caped crusader, it’s always just one rich guy in spandex. Somehow they missed the most obvious extension: Batmen. A crime fighting troupe of flying rodents dancing through the streets on a musical spree of unfettered vigilantism. But who am I to make such a request?

Seconds should be included at dinner. The best restaurants already know this.  Two children is a given. It gives parents a rival to their firstborn. Weekends are two days for a reason.  Here’s hoping politics gives us more sequels so we don’t have to ask the likes of Rob Schneider to bring us salvation and deliver us from boredom.