The Reality Of Movies Reminds Me Why My Reality Sucks.

Movies are supposed to portray real life, right? Well if that’s the case, then I have a bone to pick with the self-absorbed, egocentric, assclowns in Hollywood. Keep in mind; I let the big things slide. Such as an alien invasion that is thwarted not by nuclear missiles and all the armed forces in the entire world, but rather the common cold and in one case the alien’s allergic reaction to water. That’s right, the fucking sniffles and a substance that makes up three-quarters of this planet. Or perhaps when the repercussions for a quirky detective duo’s highway antics involving a twenty-car pile-up result in a mere heated discussion with the “Captain.” Those cheese-dicks always walk into this quintessentially grimy station and get greeted by some dude behind a desk saying, “The ‘Cap’ wants to see you. He looks really pissed this time.”

With that said, there are some things that I just can’t turn a blind eye to. For instance, when was the last time you got a dope parking spot right in front of the building that you were going to? (Of course exemptions go to those who are handicap, they always get the best spots in the joint.) Real reality would be to show some schlep (me) parking five blocks away and having to call the person they were going to see three times during the walk because he (me again) forgot what number the building was and what number he should buzz.

Or how about the spontaneous break-into synchronized dance routine? Not that I frequently watch movies with such ridiculous scenarios, but I’ve seen it enough to beg the question, who the fuck does that? Whether at a dance, or in the middle of the street, none portray life as it is.

Just to mention a few more, carving the Thanksgiving turkey at the table, good cop bad cop, or a young boy catching a foul ball at a Major League baseball game without being groped like an alter boy.

I guess when it comes down to it reality is boring. Unless of course we’re talking about “Reality TV,” where a staff of a hundred drones pour over tens of thousands of casting tapes searching for the most volatile mix of human beings. If that were reality, I’d probably find myself in a cellblock somewhere upstate.