I’m going to watch Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen this afternoon.
So is my mom.
We’re not going together, though. I’m attending a late-afternoon show in Lexington, and she’s taking my nephews to an early afternoon show in Mount Sterling. To say the least, she’s not looking forward to it.
“They want to go today,” she e-mailed me. “I will just have to sit through it. I can sleep through anything, and it will be cool.”
I’m fairly certain she’s referring to the temperature in the theater and not the general attitude of the film.
I told her we can compare notes after we both watch it. “Just don’t ask me anything about the movie,” she responded.
Mom reminded me that she’d taken me to her fair share of films during my childhood “and I survived so I’ll survive today.”
Yes, but those were classics like The Empire Strikes Back, E.T., Gremlins and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
“You’re right,” she said. “Today they are crazy. They make no sense, just like TV.”
In her defense, we are talking about a movie featuring an intergalactic war between robots disguised as cars, so that explains the craziness on the big screen. As for crazy on TV, she must be watching Glenn Beck.