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My YouTube Matinee
Jun. 5th, 2018 08:09 pmRemember back in the day when the afternoon matinee at first-run movie theaters cost 75 cents? And you could sit all afternoon in an air conditioned theater eating popcorn that cost 25 cents a box? Of course not. Y'all aren't OLD enough to remember that. But I am.
What I CAN'T remember is the last time I paid to watch a first-run movie in a brick-and-mortar theater whilst eating a 5-6 dollar box of artificially butter-flavored popcorn. Seriously, it's gotta be 15-20 years since the last time I did that and I sure as heck don't remember the movie.
Which is not to say that there haven't been a few movies, through the years, that I've thought about going to the theater to watch. Because I've always loved movies and there've been at least a few that I've thought would be worthy of the projection and sound systems found in legit movie houses.
But, like I said, those have been few and far between, that distance having increased exponentially with the advent of affordable home entertainment systems and the availability of so many titles on HQ digital media.
Still, every once in a while, there is one.
At this point, we seamlessly segue from the big screen of my lost youth to the tiny 19-inch screen that has dominated my declining years, that of the monitor in front of which I'm now sitting. (Which I actually measured, just now, and in so doing recalled that the first TV in my parents' house, circa 1950, was a black and white Motorola with a screen only 2 inches larger than this one.)
What I'd like to be able to say is that, earlier today, I was sitting in this very spot watching a classic French art film available through my Netflix subscription. Alas, if I said that, I'd be lying like our President. (No, wait, bad example. Nobody lies like the President. That's quite possibly the one thing at which he in fact has no peer.)
The truth is that I was deeply engrossed in yet another YouTube video of a fellow 'Merican exercising his Constitutionally-guaranteed right to shoot the myriad rats infesting a Washington State dairy.
(After which, I immediately vowed that I would consume ONLY New York State dairy products. Or none at all, depending on how soon the residual images might fade from memory. Which, looking on the bright side, could happen relatively quickly, given the current state of my mental acuities.)
Anyway, just as Notorious Rat Assassin (See what I did there?) was about to dispatch the Mother of All Rats from Farmer Brown's dairy, the clip was interupted by one of those freakin' ads that YouTube now uses to monetize anything that's more than 90 seconds in duration.
Up to that point, I'd actually been having a pretty good day and so the thought of putting my fist through the monitor only briefly crossed my mind.
Which is lucky because, best case, a boxer's fracture would require at least half of one's hand to be encased in a plaster cast and the rest of it would be so swollen that one wouldn't be able to squeeze a trigger or tweak windage and elevation for at least a week. (Something one learned as a bicycle commuter, after crashing on a rain-slick city street in the mid-1990s.)
That was one good thing. Another was that the ad turned out to be a trailer from Bleeker Street films announcing the June 27th limited release of a Sundance-nominated film called Leave No Trace. And, seriously, it looks like one of THOSE.
You know, one of the ones that I might actually go to a first-run theater and ransom several of my grandchildren to be able to watch. But I'll let you judge for yourselves, based on the trailer which follows.
As always, it's originally found on YouTube and I'd highly recommend that you watch it there, in full-screen mode. Well, you know, full computer screen mode...
LPK
Dreamwidth
6.5.2018
What I CAN'T remember is the last time I paid to watch a first-run movie in a brick-and-mortar theater whilst eating a 5-6 dollar box of artificially butter-flavored popcorn. Seriously, it's gotta be 15-20 years since the last time I did that and I sure as heck don't remember the movie.
Which is not to say that there haven't been a few movies, through the years, that I've thought about going to the theater to watch. Because I've always loved movies and there've been at least a few that I've thought would be worthy of the projection and sound systems found in legit movie houses.
But, like I said, those have been few and far between, that distance having increased exponentially with the advent of affordable home entertainment systems and the availability of so many titles on HQ digital media.
Still, every once in a while, there is one.
At this point, we seamlessly segue from the big screen of my lost youth to the tiny 19-inch screen that has dominated my declining years, that of the monitor in front of which I'm now sitting. (Which I actually measured, just now, and in so doing recalled that the first TV in my parents' house, circa 1950, was a black and white Motorola with a screen only 2 inches larger than this one.)
What I'd like to be able to say is that, earlier today, I was sitting in this very spot watching a classic French art film available through my Netflix subscription. Alas, if I said that, I'd be lying like our President. (No, wait, bad example. Nobody lies like the President. That's quite possibly the one thing at which he in fact has no peer.)
The truth is that I was deeply engrossed in yet another YouTube video of a fellow 'Merican exercising his Constitutionally-guaranteed right to shoot the myriad rats infesting a Washington State dairy.
(After which, I immediately vowed that I would consume ONLY New York State dairy products. Or none at all, depending on how soon the residual images might fade from memory. Which, looking on the bright side, could happen relatively quickly, given the current state of my mental acuities.)
Anyway, just as Notorious Rat Assassin (See what I did there?) was about to dispatch the Mother of All Rats from Farmer Brown's dairy, the clip was interupted by one of those freakin' ads that YouTube now uses to monetize anything that's more than 90 seconds in duration.
Up to that point, I'd actually been having a pretty good day and so the thought of putting my fist through the monitor only briefly crossed my mind.
Which is lucky because, best case, a boxer's fracture would require at least half of one's hand to be encased in a plaster cast and the rest of it would be so swollen that one wouldn't be able to squeeze a trigger or tweak windage and elevation for at least a week. (Something one learned as a bicycle commuter, after crashing on a rain-slick city street in the mid-1990s.)
That was one good thing. Another was that the ad turned out to be a trailer from Bleeker Street films announcing the June 27th limited release of a Sundance-nominated film called Leave No Trace. And, seriously, it looks like one of THOSE.
You know, one of the ones that I might actually go to a first-run theater and ransom several of my grandchildren to be able to watch. But I'll let you judge for yourselves, based on the trailer which follows.
As always, it's originally found on YouTube and I'd highly recommend that you watch it there, in full-screen mode. Well, you know, full computer screen mode...
LPK
Dreamwidth
6.5.2018
