John Travolta is the luckiest man alive. To begin with, I’ve seen him in interviews and such, and he’s kind of—well, he doesn’t come across as the brightest bulb in the batch. Moreover, most of those Hollywood Scientology people come across as kind of stupid. Maybe I’m projecting and admittedly, all of that is entirely subjective, but they all do have a certain similar aura about them. I don’t know that I can fully describe that aura, but dumb seems to be one of its elements. In fact, maybe “dumb” isn’t even the right word. Maybe, it would be more appropriate to say sort of brainwashed. Nevertheless, what is not subjective are his career choices, and his seeming ability to flush said career down the toilet, only to be rescued by some random lightning bolt from the gods.

His career basically started with his role as Vinny Barbarino in “Welcome Back Kotter,” a show I loved back in the day, but upon recent viewings of it, realize it was terrible. However, I should note that the school that is shown in the credits is New Utrecht High School, my father’s alma mater. What makes that particularly funny is that a friend of my college girlfriend once told her (without knowing about my father’s connection to the area the show is supposed to portray) that “Welcome Back Kotter” comes off as “so trashy.”

Regardless, from there Travolta got hit after hit. It’s hard to say how involved he was in his choice of projects, as a young man at that stage of his career has to take whatever roles he can get. Nevertheless, Carrie, Saturday Night Fever, Grease, and Urban Cowboy were all not only box office smashes, but were all, in varying degrees, critically panned.

At that point, he must have built up enough of a reputation where he had some choice in what he wanted to work on. So, what does he choose to do?

Staying Alive, Two of a Kind, and Perfect.

He then became Hollywood refuse until he was pulled out of the gutter by Look Who’s Talking, an awful movie to be sure, but a well-received movie nonetheless. After that, he mostly seemed to concentrate on doing Look Who’s Talking sequels, all of which were painfully awful.

Again, I think he was once again forgotten until a relatively unknown 70’s-o-phile by the name of Quentin Tarantino couldn’t get Kristen Murphy’s boyfriend’s dumb ass in his new picture so instead, he decided he wanted Vinny Barbarino. The new movie was Pulp Fiction, and John Travolta was back with a vengeance.

Shortly after that, he did Get Shorty, which may have been his last remotely respectable movie. Since then, he has been in a boatload of awful movies that sometimes did well at the box office, presumably because most movie goers are chumps, and maybe because everybody loves a happy (and lucky) ending. Call it an offshoot of the Forrest Gump Effect.

Regardless, now, he’s living his scientologic life, and he’s even lucky enough to be able to grow a mustache, however sleazy it may look.

Man, fuck John Travolta, fuck Travolta’s sleazy mustache, and fuck Travolta for being in two of my favorite films of all-time.