When I was seven my mother sent me back to L.A. for the Summer and my cousins and I would consume monster and martial arts movies at high volume. The World was a theater Downtown that you could drop a dollar or two and stay the entire day watching a marathon of flicks of that ilk and “grind house” stuff.
We saw “Three the Hard Way” (though not necessarily together) but next time we converged we all adopted our various kung fu stances and declared ourselves a force to be reckoned with for we were 3 the hard way. I don’t recall any individual names attached to our new status but I think we were all some permutation of Jim Kelly with our black fist power picks embedded in our afros. Our homemade nunchuku provided many of a self-inflicted “OW!”
My afro is long gone but as of Saturday, so is Jim Kelly.