Eat it, George Orwell; or Why 1984 was the Greatest Year Ever

When it comes to 1984, I’m less Orwellian than I am David Lee Rothian.

While George preached about the horrors of Big Brother, Diamond Dave sang hosannas in honor of the time-honored tradition of s-e-x. At least I’m pretty sure that’s what he meant when, following Eddie Van Halen’s blistering solo, he said he would “reach down between my legs n’ ease the seat back.” I could be wrong, though; perhaps the car lacked ample leg space for a comfortable ride. Dammit, that sounds dirty, too. Thanks a lot, David Lee Roth.
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Catching up on the world of film

Last week, I ended almost 20 years of curiosity by finally watching Beetlejuice.

My friends couldn’t believe I had never seen it. It is, after all, kind of a childhood staple and one that helped put director Tim Burton on the road to success. It’s not that I didn’t try when I was younger. Fate just wouldn’t have it for me.

Growing up in Powell County, our film options were exceptionally limited, particularly in the days prior to being a licensed driver. Mom and Dad couldn’t just easily hop in the truck and drive me and a group of my friends to The Big City of Lexington to watch a movie on a whim. There had to be some planning involved, resulting in me being able to remember specific details about several of the movies I watched as a child.
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