i took the boys to see the simpsons movie. we usually don’t go to movies on opening weekend because we all fear my incarceration, such is my disdain for rude people in crowded theatres. i broke down this time though because the boys have been literally DYING to see it. seriously. nearly every day since they heard the movie was being released they have been wasting away in solemn anguish. it’s so sad to watch. heartbreaking, really.
the crowds weren’t that bad and the movie is chock full of simpsons funniness. we enjoyed it.
but here’s the thing. and you knew there had to be a thing.
we got there early. of course. because i wanted to be sure we wouldn’t be stuck all the way at the front of the theater with, you know, screaming children or big-haired women or the like. so we sit there for twenty minutes before the movie is even supposed to start. okay. that’s our fault. it was our choice to come so early. i remember back in the day when you did that you just sat there and stared at a white screen. dark room. white screen. that’s what you got if you decided to be all timely and get there twenty minutes early. that was your entertainment. that and something from the days we refer to as “olden” but which has now gone the way of the dodo bird: CONVERSATION. you have dark room. white screen. conversation. twenty minutes. where did that go? when did they change that?
we sat in that theater for twenty minutes and watched the screen play images of the hottest stars pimp their latest movie. this was interlaced with “trivia” questions, oddly enough related to today’s hottest stars and latest movies. also thrown in the mix were quotes from the latest movies by– you guessed it, today’s hottest stars. all of this was played to an incredibly annoying soundtrack of songs from the latest movies as sung by today’s hottest stars. every cheesy love song from every cheesy rom-com out in theaters now. in between all of this they showed us commercials of our local businesses. but they weren’t really commercials. they were really just business cards flashed on the screen. while justin timberlake sang his little black heart out, i read about discount wiper changes down at ‘dan, the muffler man’s car-emporium’ among other great deals. i miss the white screen and dark room.
then the movie started and i expected previews. did i see previews? the fact that i just asked you should be some indication of the answer. first we had to endure the usual public shaming, guilt-inducing, paranoia-inciting litany of helpful “reminders” to turn off our cell phones and not to ever, ever steal movies. it’s bad. it’s wrong and awful and you’ll burn in hell. there are several. in case it takes awhile to sink in.
then there’s the fandago bullshit. the tired old paperbags with googly eyeballs and yarn hair telling us how to buy tickets online.
then there’s previews. AFTER the commercials. oh yes, they added commercials. they’re just like regular television commercials except they’re on a gigantic screen and they’re three times as long. while we sat there and waited for something resembling the movies i remember from just a few short years ago, we saw a commercial for: Coke, All, Sprint, Priceline, Nesquik, The Sopranos, Verizon, Snuggle Fabric Softener, and a new show coming out on ABC calling Pushing Daisies.
finally there’s some previews. a couple. stuff i don’t even want to see. nothing very promising. and that’s that. the movie was great. it was funny and worth it and i realize i’m dating myself here, but jumpin’ Jehoshaphat on a hot tin roof, when will this madness end? i thought the steady increase in price over the years to a bajillion dollars per ticket was supposed to compensate for the skyrocketing cost of hollywood making more and more big-budget, craptacular movies each year. what the hell is this shit? i tell you what i’m going to do. i’m going to just deduct a quarter from the price of my ticket for every commercial i have to sit through from now on. i’m going to pay myself back. i’m going to compensate myself for pain and suffering. this i have decreed to be so forever and ever, amen.
see you at the movies!
A Woman's Manifesto
Because a woman’s work is never done.
and is underpaid, or unpaid, or boring, or repetitious,
and we’re the first to get fired,
and what we look like is more important than what we do.
And if we get raped its our fault
and if we get beaten we must have provoked it
and if we raise our voices we’re nagging bitches
and if we enjoy sex we’re nymphos
and if we don’t we’re frigid
and if we love women it’s because we can’t get a real man
and if we ask our doctor too many questions we’re neurotic or pushy
and if we expect childcare we’re selfish
and if we stand up for our rights we’re aggressive and un-feminine
and if we don’t we’re typical weak females
and if we want to get married we’re out to trap a man
and if we don’t we’re unnatural
and because we still can’t get an adequate, safe contraceptive, but men can walk on the moon
and if we can’t cope or don’t want a pregnancy we’re made to feel guilty about abortion
and for lots and lots of other reasons
we are part of the women’s liberation movement.- Joyce Stevens, International Woman’s Day, 1975.

Man Vs. Heart Attack
I am somewhat worried about the dude on Man v Food. He isn’t looking so good these days and putting that food away like that can’t be good for him.
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters; that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's horrible burden; one which breaks your shoulders and bows you down, you must get drunk without cease.
But with what? With wine, poetry, or virtue as you choose. But get drunk.
And if, at some time, on steps of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the bleak solitude of your room, you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated, ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock, all that which flees, all that which groans, all that which rolls, all that which sings, all that which speaks, ask them, what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock, they will all reply:
"It is time to get drunk!
So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk, get drunk, and never pause for rest! With wine, poetry, or virtue, as you choose!"
Charles Baudelaire












