Friday, May 29

In The Good Old Summertime




Good morning, everybody! Or whatever time of day or night it is when you read this. Who am I kidding? Nobody reads this blog. Even my own mother refuses to read my blog. I keep sending her links via text message every time I publish a new post, and she always just replies with a pistol emoji pointing at a vomiting face emoji. I'm not sure what these crude pictographs are trying to say exactly, but the feeling behind them is quite clear.

Amyhoo, May is just about finished, and that means the summer movie season is upon us! Or at least it would be, if a terrifying plague hadn't swept across our planet, forcing our entire civilization to make drastic changes in order to prevent a worst-case scenario in terms of casualties. So no summer movie season this year, guys. It's a real bummer. I know the studios want to shove their products out there in order to make oodles of cash, but they're all keenly aware that the audience just isn't there right now, so there's no real purpose in releasing a wannabe blockbuster in theaters if nobody's going to show up and actually watch the damned thing. I know I won't be hanging out in any of my local movie palaces until I feel somewhat safe regarding this virus, and that probably won't be until a vaccine is widely available, so I guess what I'm saying is that I am essentially finished with the theatrical movie-going experience, at least for the foreseeable future.

Go ahead and open up you multiplexes if you're so inclined, but I won't be filling any of their seats. I watched Outbreak too many times in my formative years, and that horrifying sequence set in a movie theater that shows how easily the film's fictional Motaba virus is transmitted via water droplets in the building's ventilation system left an indelible mark on my impressionable brain. To be honest, I haven't seen a movie in a theater since last summer's latest Spider-Man sequel, so I'm already quite accustomed to the idea of just staying home and waiting for Blu-Ray or streaming.


I'm not sure exactly how or why, but at some point last year I just stopped caring about going to the movies. I used to haunt my city's movie houses basically every weekend once upon a time, but my passion for it all has just died out. I grew increasingly wary of crowds over the past year, and I guess that just bled into movie theaters for me. I was always misanthropic and even prone to the odd panic attack, but something just changed last year, making everything worse. Maybe it has something to do with my little brush with death, but I honestly don't know. I'm much more comfortable just watching movies at home alone, these days. And home is really where we all should be right now, no matter what belligerent nonsense the tangerine clown in the White House bellows from his high chair.

Speaking of clowns, let's all sit back and enjoy the latest episode of nobody's favorite podcast, Trappo's Chap House! There's only one episode this week because nobody really needs to listen to more than one episode of this drivel in a row. It's bad for the digestion. This week's installment, Clowns In Cages, is all about movies. Okay, not all about movies, but there's a fair amount of movie talk in there... somewhere. Joined once again by my socially distant cousin Ky, we discuss the religious fundamentalist war profiteers who own and operate the Hobby Lobby chain of craft stores, that animated juggernaut called Frozen, the loss of my old 3-D television, and then we wrap it all up with a brief and inexplicable discussion regarding cult sensation Santa Claus Conquers The Martians. Why? I still have absolutely no idea. But here is is, anyway!

Chapter 07: Clowns In Cages



That's it for now, friends. I'm sure I'll be back here next week to share more audio-focused misery with all of you imaginary people, if I'm still alive. Right now, I'd say there's a 50/50 chance. Stay tuned.

This message paid for by The Association of Cinematic American Perverts.

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