M. and I went to the flicks tonight (making tonight like many another weekend night). We saw Hostel.

Why? Because M.’s bloodlust knows no bounds. Fortunately, to date, it’s been virtual.

Actually, it was an interesting horror in some ways. Not sure, though, whether I was just way into the guy in our row who was way into his horror movies. After a particularly amusing retributionary act by our hero, he shouted out something like “Damn. It’s the feel-good movie of the year!” He laughed out loud at the worst of the gore, (which actually helped me, since I am a big, giant, wincing, squeezing M.’s hand, massive pussy at horror movies).

On the other side in our row was a family outing. The mom, the dad and the kiddies. The boy looked about five years old, and the girl was maybe seven. At best, she clocked in at nine.

It was an 8:30 p.m. movie. So, um, yeah, do kids even fucking have bed times anymore?

Moreso, it was a horror movie with a tip of the hat to some classic horror movie scenes. In other words, blood and gratuitous tits up the ass.

I am positively on the far side of a censorship universe, but I believe it is OK to not throw tits, big jiggling Euro-trash tits, disco-drug-taking partying, softcore humping, chain saws, surgical blades, guns, butchery, various bits of splattering body parts and digits, several digits in search of a hand, into the face of young children. There’s time enough to get your sex and violence freak on after the ages of five and seven.

M. had two comments. I bet you write about this (said mockingly, as one must if one sleeps with a weblog owner), and something about my not understanding because I was white. Did I mention I’m sleeping with a racist?