i can tell that we are gonna be friends

Please. Can someone please explain to me why it is so important to some people that I like what they like? Can't I have my own opinions on things? I don't mind if you like something different than what I like. It doesn't bother me in the least. We can still talk. We can still be friends.

Why do some people do their very best to try to convince me to like what they like? Why is it so important? Is everything a contest? Is everything a debate? 

Years ago, my brother-in-law (who, by the way is the king of "you must like what I like") made some sort of stew with ingredients selected specifically to impress everyone who would ask: "Hey, what's in this?" After a long session of cajoling that was borderline intimidation, I sampled a small spoonful of his concoction. First of all, it had an aroma that was very unappetizing to me. Despite that immediate turn-off, I tasted it anyway... just to be polite. I didn't like it. I told him I didn't like it. He got furious. I mean raving, seething, face-turning-beet-red furious! He threw the spoon down and began berating and insulting me — waving his hands and cursing like a longshoreman. (Side note: I never have to worry about this scenario ever repeating because I no longer speak to my brother-in-law.)

I like music. My musical tastes lean towards the eclectic. But, boy oh boy! do people get downright defensive about the music they like. Some people are very quick to declare that  a certain band sucks if you express the slightest affinity towards something that they don't like. Conversely, those same people will label you as an idiot if you do not like their favorite band. I have started to say "I don't care for that" if I am asked my opinion on a song or band I do not care for. I have come to the conclusion that there is no bad music. Every band is someone's favorite band. It's just some bands appeal to me more than others... and those bands may be different from the ones you like.

I was reading the reviews for different movies on the invaluable Internet Movie Database (IMBD). On one particular movie, someone had posted a very thoughtful — although decidedly negative — review, complete with in-depth commentary, analysis, and comparisons to similar films within the same genre. The first comment on this amateur reviewer's post read: "If you didn't like this movie, your mother sucks, asshole!" 

I watch a lot of movies and I happily admit that I have specific likes and dislikes. I don't like superhero movies. I don't like science fiction movies. I like horror movies, but I don't like the current trend of so-called "body horror," which I feel is more of an endurance test than entertainment. I prefer comedy to drama, but I do like a well-written, well-acted story. That said, I have gotten recommendations from friends, acquaintances and others with whom I come into contact. Mostly, these suggestions are "You'll love this because I loved it!" Honestly, that means nothing and it's hardly a valid reason to get me to watch a movie. I have been told — told! — to watch superhero movies, despite the reminder that I do not care for that genre. "No! No!," the referrer insists, "You'll like this one!" Others have told me to watch a particular Jim Carrey movie, even after expressing my dislike like for the Jim Carrey films I have seen. "No! No!," come the protests, "This one is different! He's different in this one." Of course, he's not.

I just watched a recent movie, one that shall go nameless but recently broke the record for the most Oscar nominations is history. I watched this particular film. In my opinion, it was okay. I thought it was beautifully shot. The cast was great. The acting was top-notch. The story was very, very compelling... until it wasn't. In my opinion (and I keep stressing that), it fell apart at its climax. Author Jason Pargin (John Dies At the End and former editor of Cracked.com) offered a very good assessment of the movie in question. He said that the first half was a great story, with stellar character development and an intriguing set-up. The first part of the movie was so well done that there was a feeling of disappointment when  — SPOILER ALERT!!! — the monsters show up. It was as though the monsters interrupted a story that I wanted to follow and see to a conclusion. I felt cheated. That is exactly how I felt... and I expressed my opinion briefly on social media, grabbing my phone as the credits of the movie were rolling. Almost immediately, I was chastised, rebuked and castigated by a contingency of folk to whom I am connected. I was berated for not getting the "true meaning" of the movie. Oh... I got the "true meaning." I fully understand symbolism. I have been watching symbolism in books and movies for years. I know that George Orwell's Animal Farm is not really about talking pigs. I understood the symbolism in A Face in The Crowd and Get Out. It's just this particular movie didn't do it for me. I don't need a refresher course in Film Making 101. I don't wish to be schooled. I watched the movie for entertainment... to take my mind off of bills I have to pay and assholes I have to deal with at work. As a distraction from bad drivers and unexpected car repairs. The movie was just okay. In my opinion (and I can't stress those three words enough), it was another case of great acting of a run-of-the-mill script. I see a lot of that. There are movies I like and movies I don't like. Just like you.

If you liked that movie... if you thought it was a meaningful, groundbreaking, important tour-de-force — well, good for you. I'm happy that you enjoyed it. Why is it so important that I feel the same about it?  And why do I need to be convinced that I cannot dislike a particular movie?

You have your opinion. I have mine. Let's still be friends.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

enough about you, let's talk about life for a while

Look, I don't want this to become the "quarantine" blog, so I'd like to make today's post the last one on that subject... at least for a while.

Like you and your neighbor and your co-workers and everyone else across the country (and still in most parts of the world), I am at home. In my house. It's where I have been since March 12. That was the date that I left my place of employment with the computer from my desk, with the instruction from my supervisor to begin working from home as of the morning of the 13th. Since that day, I have ventured out of my house for approximately forty minutes each day to walk around the block with my wife. Twice, during the past seven weeks, I occupied the passenger's seat of my wife's car when we made a delivery of some grocery items to my son's house. We pulled up in front of his home. He popped outside, his face swathed in a makeshift face mask fashioned from a bandanna. He opened the rear hatch of the car and retrieved his items. We had a brief conversation with him as he stood a good seven feet away from us. Then he retreated back into his house and we started for home. We made no physical contact.

My wife is the designated "real world" liaison for me, as well as the extended family that are sequestered at her parents' house a few blocks away. She has graciously volunteered to do the shopping for both of our households in an effort to keep everyone safe. And that's our life. We do what we do and will continue to do what we will do until the concern subsides. And it will.

During this time, I have steered clear of most news broadcasts on television. I will watch a little bit of local news to get information I may need about business closures or changes in hours. Sometimes I'll wait for a weather forecast, but otherwise, I skip that news too. Most news programming has become "doom and gloom" and speculative reporting. I hate news stories that begin: "Well, what if..." That is not a helpful news story. That is the basis for a Marvel comic book.

Mostly what I see on the news is complaints. Complaints from Mrs. and Mrs. Average American who have been inconvenienced by a deadly virus. I understand that staying confined to your house is difficult, but considering that death may be the alternative, I don't see it as that terrible. I've heard people complaining that they can't go to a concert or a ball game or the movies or a restaurant. They complain about having to work from home. They complain about Zoom online meetings. They complain that the supermarket doesn't have that bread that they like. They complain that they can't have a barbecue in their backyard.... although some people complain about it then defiantly have a barbecue anyway.

Really? Really!?!

Thousands and thousands of people work from home every day. Some people have lost those jobs that required them to work from home (myself included). You are being asked to honor these precautions for your own good, for your own safety and well being. Yes, some people need to be guided in this manner. They need to be told how to be safe because a lot of people have no common sense. These people are the reason that chainsaws come with warning labels that caution against grabbing the blade while it's moving.

The ones I find the most upsetting are the heavily-armed angry mobs flocking to the state capital buildings (my own state included) and screaming about being inconvenienced. They don't want the government telling them what to do. (They have no problem with a big, invisible, omniscient being who lives up in the sky telling them what to do, but that's a story for another blog post.) Is it really that difficult to stay home to avoid dying? Is that really a lot to ask?  Are your rights really being compromised?  Y'know, if you die, you'll have no rights at all. If you die, you won't have to worry about staying home or not being able to golf or get a haircut or social distancing. If you die, you'll be six feet away from everybody. Permanently. 

To date, two hundred and forty-thousand people have died as a result of this pandemic. Quit complaining. It's selfish. May I suggest that you suck it up. Stay home. Wash your hands. Shut up. And stop being a cry baby. 

www.joshpincusiscrying.com