Super, Bad

I finally did it, I caved and went to see Superbad. Contrary to common reaction, it was not a great movie. Sure, it didn't fail, and it get quite a few good laughs out of me. Any movie, though, can go on sophomoric banter. The laughs were genuine, but not because the movie was well written. I can't say I pity myself, because I had a premonition of this before I saw it. No matter how I tried to tell myself that this teen box-office-predictable comedy of a movie was different, it wasn't. I knew what my reaction would be. I feel for their trap again, damn it. My reaction leaves me with a profound question. How am I tricked into seeing a movie I know is bad? I am not by nature some lemur, but I did it again. Surely there is some psychologist in Los Angeles who is paid six figures to lure unsuspecting Midwestern teens into these movies. It actually seems to be a peculiar phenomenon in our culture. That same shrink in Los Angeles must also work for NBC, CBS, ABC, Columbia, FOX and Sony. (busy guy) How else could 300 million people be so captivated by American Idol singers, or Britney Spears' obvious mental decay? (It better be manipulation, the alternatives are even worse.) I hope those Los Angelinos feel better about themselves now that they have robbed me of $8 and 90 minutes. I can get back neither. I suppose there is always the next movie to get my mind off such silly thoughts.