I know that Friday night is coming. I know that it’s the day after Thanksgiving, and that having gorged yourself on cranberries still in their can-like form, turkey smothered in gravy and abutted by mounds of stuffing and potatoes, and a few rolls thatjustbalanced on the edge of your plate, you’ll be lethargic.
I know that you’ll wake up on Friday morning still woozy from that last “sliver” of pie. And yet, and yet, you will still trek to Target before the sun is up, if only to elbow your hair stylist’s elderly mother out of the way, that you might claim the last Nikon.
I know that Friday night, after sandwiches bulging with leftovers, you will seek entertainment. Something light, something out of the house (away from the dishes), something the entire family can enjoy.
But friends, I implore you: do not go see Breaking Dawn Part 2. If you do, you will laugh at first, then you will furrow your eyebrows in dubious mockery, and then you will be overwhelmed by waves of revulsion and worry for the future of popular filmmaking. You will find yourself snatching your neighbor’s Milkduds to throw at the screen. You will sob the entire way home, because how can any movie that people pay to see be that bad?
Trust me. I’m still emotionally shattered from my own viewing last night.
Wishing you happy Thanksgiving travels,