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Okay, you know how you’re the first person in a group of friends who gets to the theater and saves seats for the rest of the troupe? YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DO THAT ANYMORE. Especially if you’re saving upwards of 3. One guy in the theater was saving five seats for people who didn’t even show up. I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t such a twat to me when I tried to sit down in his imaginary domain.

The movie in question is, of course, The Dark Knight Rises. Frankly, Mr. Nolan has outdone himself in my opinion. The concluding chapter in an amazing trilogy of expertly paced, brilliantly written dramas that happen to include Batman as the title character. If you’re planning on going to see it, and you will because you’re a smart person who enjoys prime cinematic experiences and have nothing else to do, go in as fresh as you can. Don’t spoil it with Wikipedia or written reviews. Just go see it. Preferably early so you won’t have to deal with self-righteous pricks who don’t carpool.

It’s getting harder to write these days. When you’re stuck in suburbia with no knowledge of driving, a bicycle or even a pair of roller skates, the days get a lot less exiting unless your sister walks in with a pair of rabid raccoons, lets them loose, gives you a mallet and sends you on your merry little psychotic way. Which she did. But they weren’t. Or at least I sincerely hope they weren’t, that would be a big faux pas on her part and considering that we’ll both be attending our sister’s wedding soon, a foaming mouth, bloodshot eyes and two shotgun shells to the head from some Second amendment second cousin would be incredibly embarrassing bordering on fucking awesome.

Signed,

Mr. MoonGoat

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