I can’t stand kids. Okay fine, that’s a bit strong. Let’s all agree that kids from ages 0 to 4, regardless of gender, are teeth-grindingly, hair-pullingly, bite-your-tounge-so-that-you-don’t-get-on-bad-terms-with-the-parents-because-you’re-the-daycare-teacher annoying and that your thoughts of shoving them off onto a boat on a one way trip to a desert island to re-enact the events of “Lord of the Flies” are shared by almost everyone in your immediate vicinity because let’s face it, that would make an amazing reality TV show. Like Barney and Friends meets The Bad Girls Club but slightly more nightmarish and with significantly less alcohol tolerance. A few days ago, I went with my roommate to go see The Amazing Spider Man. Throughout the entire movie, little kids were running up and down the stairs and aisles, talking, yelling, crying, completely oblivious to the display of bright colors and action-packed set pieces happening right in front of their smug little faces.
Let’s not blame this one on our Friendly Neighborhood Spider Man, the movie was not as big a misstep as most hardcore pessimistic nerds would lead you to believe. The movie seemed to be taking a lot more cues from the Ultimate universe where Peter Parker is not the sweet, good-natured, doe-eyed samaritan we are all familiar with and is instead presented as a moody, sarcastic asshole who never really develops the loving relationship with his aunt until later on in his life when he becomes our knight in red spandex for reals.
That’s all besides the point. Throughout the entire movie I was furious with those kids and even more furious with the parents who didn’t lift a single finger to try and quell them. The most that happened was that the parents took their kids with them and left in a huff, annoyed that their sons and daughters were ruining their Friday night. What arbitrary silliness was that? I expected at least one of those kids to get a swift smack in the back of the head, taken back to their chair and fully bolted in place so that they can begin to have an appreciation for super heroes which will eventually lead to fandom, obsession with all things science-fiction, leading hopefully to good grades, first prize ribbons in science fairs and a cure for the common cold so that I’ll never have to take cough syrup again all for the price of never having intercourse. But no, you allow them to get away with all that so they grow up to be entitled, guffawing assholes who become the bane of my existence later on in life when I’ve become a diligent office drone and they’re the beer-guzzling frat boys at Thi Theta Jackass or the sorority sisters at Alpha Fuck Me Kappa. We’ll all eventually find each other at local Starbucks where I’m quietly enjoying a Caramel Apple Spice, reading Charles Bukowski while the boys loudly argue 5 feet away about who gets to fuck Shirley that night.
YES, I’M BITTER.