We have attempted to catalogue the means by which Reacher frontman Alan Ritchson became some kind of noble gorilla warrior king. But, let me reveal now: the comic strip and its contents are intended primarily as a vector for mirth. They are not intended to represent an authentic technique for bulking, or even becoming yolked. It's not possible to become a man-god in this way. For one, the arm that was lifting Gabriel would see no change whatsoever. The arm that was lifting me would mount a bicep the size and, indeed, rigidity of a bike helmet.

No, Alan Ritchson looks this way because a sculptor - a stone-singer - could hear Reacher's spirit crying out from a massive block of marble, and made it his life's work to release him.

I was shocked, and in some ways continue to be shocked, at some of the facts about these books and their author. I would have said with full certainty that these books found their start or were even written to ride the wake of Tom Clancy potboilers in the eighties. The first book, the one the first season of the show is based on, is from 1997. And the author is British. Then, once you learn it, you aren't surprised anymore: the man is essentially writing a kind of Americana fan fiction.  His wikipedia page describes his writing style as "commercial."  Lotta information in that word, huh? 

I think the first Reacher movie with Tom Cruise is actually really good, but I'm not sure that Tom Cruise is Reacher. Certainly, if this new version is more in line, Jack Reacher could keep Tom Cruise on his shoulder in a sort of Elf on the Shelf-type scenario. On the one hand, and I guess it could be bad for manufacturing drama, but you never really wonder if the Reacher in the series is going to succeed or fail. On the other hand, you never really wonder if he's going to succeed. In my case, at least, both can represent fun, escapist fiction. Motherfuckers are gonna get theirs. That's the plot.  I haven't read all twenty-six of these books, and I'm only two episodes into the second season, but my sense is that motherfuckers continue to get it throughout.

At some point we started thinking that ambiguity was the cat's pajamas - or is it pyjamas? That's the type of rich, narrative gravy we're given. Is good even, like, possible man?!?!?!?! Is Maleficent, the Mistress of All Evil whose crow is essentially named Satan, just misunderstood? Does the lady who wants to kill all those dogs in 101 Dalmatians have some deeper, trauma-related reason for wanting to kill and wear all those dogs? Nuance can act as a proxy for sophistication, but it's not automatic. Explicit moral themes aren't automatically facile and nuance in presentation isn't necessarily profound.

Anyway, it's fiction. It's okay to pretend in fiction.  I think that's a big part of it.

Reacher situates its ambiguity in the mysteries, and it is in ready supply. Like an even more brutal Sherlock Holmes, he's one of these omni-heroes that knows things and he has to figure out really confusing shit all the time. And he has to shoot people in the head, sometimes four or five at a time. Sometimes a person might get a good shot in later in the series, but it's like a reward for that guy having lived to the end of the season: a "retirement" gift, like a gold watch.

The show is kind of silly; he says objectively dumb shit like an eighties action protagonist would, thirty years on. But it's also good, with a fun mystery and very solid action. It's the literary equivalent of a cocktail weiner you would toothpick out of a crockpot at your elderly aunt's house. Sometimes, that's what you want.

(CW)TB out.