I was at a screening for one of the many flicks I have to review. I’d have to check my smartphone to see what flick it was, as I’m in CHUD World now and I’m focusing on the DVD coverage.
When I was settling down to watch the film, I noticed another older lady settling down with a book. If push comes to shove, I’d say it was one of those Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Cunt books or something. I made a comment about how it was pointless to read at the cinema and she shrugged it off. The lady said she always did it, even when she wasn’t there to review shit.
I felt bad for her. Nothing telegraphs that you’re a sad bastard than spending the twenty minute wait for the movie by reading a book. Yet, every local theater is within walking distance of a book store. There has to be some sort of traffic flow where small armies of people are flooding into the bookstores looking for something to distract them from crippling loneliness.
What I’m trying to say is that The Social Network is one of the best films I’ve seen this year.
Onto other things, I’m getting ready to watch The Human Centipede again. I’ve got Fabfunk getting ready to interview the director over at AV, while I start my pimp train for the greatest horror film of the last ten years.
See you next week.