The B-word

There are four films out this week. Film A looks like a decent way to pass two hours, but I don’t want to see it because it’s an effects-filled extravaganza with little in the way of plot, and I’m in the mood for something with a bit more heft. Film B looks like a decent way to pass two hours, but I don’t want to see it because it’s a horror film and I think it’ll be too scary for me. Film C looks like a decent way to pass two hours, but I don’t want to see it because its female characters are all scantily-clad idiots whose only aim in life is to find hot guys, all of whom are smart and fully dressed, and I find that personally insulting. Film D looks like a decent way to pass two hours, and I end up seeing it.

I tell Random Man why I didn’t see film A, and he says okay.

I tell Random Man why I didn’t see film B, and he says okay.

I tell Random Man why I didn’t see film C, and he incredulously bursts out, “You’re boycotting it?!?”

 

 

I’ve had this conversation many times. I have, as yet, restrained myself from pointing out the sheer idiocy of comparing my not wanting to use my limited funds and time to buy something I’m not interested in to the great boycotts so well-utilized by the twentieth-century civil rights movement. But I may, next time, respond with my own incredulous outburst.

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