Below is a transcript from a conversation I had with myself. All selves are fictitious and any resemblance to real selves, living or dead, is purely, most likely coincidental. Contains random spoilers to movies. Read at your own risk.
Me: Oh my god, come over here and sit down. I’m watching this flick called Orphan. It is so fucked up. You should make us some popcorn.
Me2: Are you serious? You’re watching this? Do you even know… anything? Yes. Let’s portray adoptees as murderous evil children, who by the way, try and seduce their daddies. I mean not only EWWWW and WTF, but they actually put in the line “It must be difficult to love an adopted child as much as your own” until they got their ass handed to them and had to change it. I mean, really? Because orphans and foster kids already get such incredible pub these days? That’s why they’re still orphans? You might as well just get a t-shirt that says, “Orphans can die and I’m okay with that.” And, distinctly, without an exclamation mark because it’s not like you care that much about dying orphans anyway.
Me: Wow. Not only are you interrupting my movie with your long diatribe that I didn’t ask for, because all I asked for was popcorn, but do you hear yourself? You have issues with this movie, but you’ll sit and watch Visitor Q and Ichi The Killer. I didn’t see you out there picketing for survivors of rape and incest did I? Yeah… must a missed that one. It’s a movie.
Me2: That can’t live inside an ivory tower.
Me: And where’s that line between art and exploitative imagery again? And who made you the keeper of that line?
Me2: If you can’t see something has