I had this urge to go to a movie a couple of weeks ago.
The “cinema” for you upper-crust types.

I quickly stifled it.
Going to a movie is an impossibility.

I don’t really like going by myself, I’m not
allowed to have a girlfriend to take me and
the wife falls asleep in every movie we ever went to.

3-D movies keep her awake but that’s because it gives her vertigo and she’s too busy spinning and complaining to get sleepy.

So, no movies.

Women don’t appreciate the sacrifices husbands make for them.

Speaking of movies, I watched the Academy Awards recently and wondered when those movies would get to NetFlix.
Probably years after they wrung every cent of of them.

I liked the guy on stage for an award wearing a tux, no tie and white sneakers.
There’s a person that puts comfort above all else.

He needed a haircut though.

It was fun to watch Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway hand out an award.
They were in Bonnie and Clyde and the gossip magazines for years have written about how much they really hate each other.
At the Oscars last year they wouldn’t even be together to rehearse.

Then they handed out the wrong envelope.
There’s a reason people rehearse.

I thought they hid their distaste fairly well.
That’s why they’re actors.

I once wanted to make a movie until I found out how much work it was and how much it costs.

I then decided I wanted to be a director so I could tell people what to do until I found out how much work that was and I would have to put up with people like Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway.

There was one short attempt at writing a screenplay until I found out that wasn’t easy…too much work.

Then an actor – just stand on some mark and say what someone wrote in a script.

I found out you had to be good looking and have talent and be willing to sit in the makeup chair for hours.

And anyway, I can’t cry on demand.

That was my career in the movie business.
That’s why I was on TV for bunch of years instead.

Speaking of TV, I now get my occasional movie watching TV on the couch with the wife.
Then she falls asleep and I wander away.

That’s why I’m grumpy.

I’m not big on social media.
Take Twitter, please.
There’s not much you can say in a few characters.

One exception is, “This is not a drill. A missile is headed to Hawaii.”
Never has so much been said in so few words.
Never has a government agency screwed up so badly trying to explain their screw up.

But normally Twitter is not much more than someone telling the world they are eating ice cream or hanging out some place.

I check it once in a while to see what our esteemed president is ragging about but I haven’t written anything on it in a couple of years.

Last week I picked up two new followers.
Maybe they’re looking for some quiet.

Then take Facebook, please.
The wife spends most of the day cruising it to see what her girlfriends have to say or playing games.
If she stops moving longer than 5 seconds, out comes the phone.
She can’t go very long without checking in.

She’s addicted.
She denies that.
I have better sense than to continue that discussion.

I drop by occasionally to spread some “like” and look for dumb videos.

Once in a while a pretty lady “loves” something I post.
I’m in heaven.

I have a short fantasy we run away to some place romantic and drink expensive wine.

To me the cellphone is a tool, not a lifestyle.
Two billion Facebook users say I’m wrong.

That makes me grumpy but also proud to be unique.

So true…