I don’t watch that many movies. I mean, I enjoy movies (I also enjoy food, sports, and vagueness) but I just don’t sit down and watch them very often, even the ones I love. It’s funny how we tend to accumulate our favorite movies and display them but hardly ever throw them into the DVD player. Here’s a movie that cracked me up/moved me to tears/taught me invaluable life lessons and as its reward it gets to live out the rest of its plastic-encased years on a Bed Bath and Beyond stand in my den.
I especially don’t watch many Good Movies. You can argue that that label is subjective, but let’s put it like this: In 2007 I opted for I Know Who Killed Me over An Inconvenient Truth, and in 2005 paid money to see House of Wax but not Million Dollar Baby. No regrets, people.
My love for crap movies is something that was born in me and that I’ve painstakingly nurtured over the years. If you’re not a crap movie aficionado, you may not realize that they actually have their own set of parameters that must be adhered to. For example, none of those painful scary movie spoofs count. There’s a special place in hell reserved for humorless parodies.
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