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An Open Letter to the Internet: I’m Sorry We Don’t Like The Same Movies


Cult Cinema: Volume 13:

Dear Internet,

I’m sorry that we don’t like the same movies. I’ve let you down.  After all that you’ve given me, from the questionably legal pornography, to the gory photos of car crash victims and dead celebrities, to the endless hours spent trolling creationist message boards and acupuncture websites, I’ve done nothing but bring you pain.

And it’s my fault, really. I should have known better. After all, while you were invented decades ago, your most familiar incarnation only developed in the mid-nineties, which makes you about 14 years of age. So, it makes sense that you get huffy when you encounter differing opinions regarding Tim Burton, and don’t know how punctuation works.

But that doesn’t make it okay for me to voice my opinions when they are so obviously wrong. Clearly, I know nothing about film. Sure, I may be a professional critic. But the subtleties of certain films, which behind-the-times dinosaurs like myself might criticize as having the depth of a Souja Boy ringtone, escape me. When it comes to b-movies, which I love, I stupidly don’t conflate ‘fun’ with ‘genius.’ And instead of liking The Nightmare Before Christmas, I apparently spend my time sucking my father’s cock in a trailer park (Seriously? Not liking an animated goth musical makes me gay?)

successful_trollInternet, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ruffle your feathers, or make you misspell quite so many things. But I understand why you’re upset. My standard Cult of the Week MO, which is to pick a movie with an undeservedly high imdb user rating and exaggerate my reaction to it, is admittedly deliberately irritating, mainly because nothing pumps up my stats like angry fans. But I didn’t mean to insult you, personally, Internet. Just because you like a bad movie doesn’t mean I think you’re stupid, unless it’s Passion of the Christ. I like plenty of bad movies. I just don’t, you know, shit my pants quite so aggressively when someone disagrees. Of course, you have raised some good questions. What films do I like? (I’d suggest listening to some of our wonderful podcasts for the answer to that.) Why don’t I write about movies I actually enjoy? (I do that in my day job. Here, I do something different.) And instead of answering, I’ve just gotten worse.

But I want to make it up to you, Internet. I couldn’t bear to keep fighting. How could I go on without catching viruses in the seamier parts of 4chan, or keeping up to date with what Perez Hilton thinks of Fergie? So, to make it up to you, I’m officially, and publicly changing my opinions. Your movies are great. Love ‘em. Each and every miserable minute. And my upcoming Cult of the Weeks are going to be nothing but positive. Dark Knight? Totally deserved an Oscar, even if Christian Bale sounds like a Cannibal Corpse roadie trying to be scary. And you know what’s fun? Quoting Pulp Fiction, because you never know when a Simpsons line might fail you at a party. Boondock Saints is now one of the best movies ever made, based solely on the fact that Irish guys showing off their Celtic cross tattoos during slow motion gun-fights is a perfectly acceptable substitute for coherent thought. Fight Club is groundbreaking, not a lengthy music video based on the Spike TV philosophical manifesto. And 300 isn’t an Army recruitment ad for morons. It’s a work of art.

I hope this helps, Internet. I want to be friends. But even if we can’t, I hope you know I still respect you, love you, and quite frankly, need you. Or at least your pornography.


Al Kratina

Visit Al at , or follow him on Twitter.

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