This year marked the first time I had sat down to watch the Ramboseries in. First Blood was too slow to keep my attention, but its sequels were the craziest R-rated cartoons I ever snuck into my parents' basement to watch. At the time, the Rambo sequels were the pinnacle of action films in my young eyes. With a strip of red fabric from mom’s sewing kit, a smear of red paint across a tattered shirt, and a clunky Star Wars action figure case shaped like a machine gun, I was John Rambo.
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