Lady killer sings the blues |

Lady killer sings the blues

Staff Reports

Thanks to cloning, sperm banks and vibrators, males are no longer needed for the old “in and out.” And once women learn to belch in public and kill with impunity, we hairy-backed Troglodytes will have no function at all.Before you know it, the male genitalia will be as outdated as the 8 Track, Pong or 16-millimeter stag films.That’s why the average single slob is compelled to troll for action 24-7.Of course, finding a willing partner for an evening of meaningless sex is not always as simple as it seems. Girls were easy once, I’m told, but nowadays the ladies need a little sweet talk.Unfortunately, most guys don’t know how to mesmerize the fairer sex. That’s why so many losers sulk home from Happy Hour in search of a cold shower or jar of Vaseline.But Roger Swanson (Campbell Scott) is a different animal. He a big game hunter on the Serengeti of Love. He’ll work a bar scene until closing to seal the deal. He’ll stand at the plate all night and visually caress every set of gams that enters his field of vision.In other words, Roger is a testosterone-oozing scumbag, who canvasses Big Apple watering holes, waiting like a tiger in the weeds for a curious or drunken, female to creep within his lurid reach.Roger and his lizard-brain view toward rutting, forms the core of Roger Dodger, a fine flick that takes viewers into the shallow soul of the Y chromosome set.Though a natural heel, Roger is happy to share his sport with a teen-aged nephew, who comes to New York in search of carnal knowledge. Seems the lad, a 16-year-old computer geek from Ohio named Nick, wants to know the meaning of love, or at least sex.Roger is happy to oblige and in short order the high school punk is enjoying his first cigarette, his first shot of booze and his first taste of feline tongue planted tonsil deep.Young Nick’s adventures with his rakish relative provide for a dark, funny and twisted buddy flick that chronicles their quest for lust, love or a whore house quickie.Being a seasoned vet of the singles scene, Roger can accurately size up a woman at first glance. One look is all he needs to analyze his quarry and dazzle the chick with his keen insight into her true personality.As such, Roger is the sensei of sex. Part snake, part land shark and all Casanova.”Sex is everywhere, it’s all around us,” the master lectures his virginal student.Soon the boy learns to leer at women without being detected; to use stairways to obtain line of sight angles of cleavage; and to survey a bar scene for willing partners.”Find a hook, a line, an opening salvo,” Roger counsels the boy when they enter a bar loaded with drop-dead gals. “Lie, never open up. Never tell the truth.”The ploy works to perfection when Roger brings a ravishing dish to his table then tells the gal his nephew has a question that will “blow her mind.”Without missing a beat, Nick tells the fetching blonde that Uncle Roger will cough up $1,000 if the boy gets a girl to fall in love with him tonight. The lass takes a shine to young Nick and invites her equally lovely pal to join the fun.But a potential orgy goes up in smoke when Roger’s inner jerk emerges, leaving Nick to discover that love without feeling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.Until next time, Mr. Hernandez has left the theater to work on his opening salvos.Nickey Hernandez is a former private investigator who could make mad monkey love with a different women every night, if he was willing to pay for it.

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