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What's more bad ass than Santo circa 1962, members? With his todo mundo physique and masked glory, The Saint laughs at heel luchadors, zombies, hotels of death, diabolical brains and vampire women alike, then takes them down for some face time with the mat. And what's his secret to taking on such cinematic foes? Just like the sports briefs he struts in, The Saint shows 'em what he's got - but reveals nothing. Just the tact to use in the week ahead: When beleaguered by bossy banes, make like a Speedo, swim like a shark, and you may get your wings yet.
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