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Hank’s Blog – An Innocent Man

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So, and I know this’ll be a huge shock to you guys, I got in a little trouble the other week with the wife. She’s peeved that I outed her about her little guilty pleasure movie. I gotta say, I was surprised to see the woman embarrassed. Most of the time, whatever my wife likes has been practically crapped out by God or something and only a “total bourgeois moron” would disagree with her. (Three guesses who that moron usually is.)

But, not this time. It was cute — she may have actually been blushing. She was all, “Hank, why don’t you tell them your guilty pleasure movies?” I tried to explain to her that I don’t feel guilty over any of my movie preferences. What’s the point? Why should I feel bad over something some doucheweed spent millions of dollars to make and that I can watch for free on basic cable? I love that shit!

Do I fully admit some of these movies are not what one would call, classics? Sure… but last I checked, we lived in a democracy, and there’s room for everyone. And I’ll be honest, I’ve seen Citizen Kane (all three hundred hours of it), and yeah, yeah, it’s a great film. The cinematography is ground-breaking and Orson Welles is a visionary, and blah, blah, “I only listen to NPR”, blah blah, “I don’t even own a TV”, blah blah, “No one will have sex with me.” But, you know, sometimes I would rather watch Deep Blue Sea. Does that make me feel bad about myself? Hell no. If I start to feel bad… I just fast forward to the scene where the tasty Saffron Burrows takes her wetsuit off to use as insulation against the electric shock she’s about to jack knife straight through that crazy bastard shark. So take that, Orson Welles. Sexy, and educational. (Though I did like his wine commercials. Nothing like a little two-buck chuck.)

So yeah, I see nothing shameful about enjoying super smart predators jumping clear out of the water to bite Sam Jackson in half. (And again… Saffron Burrows sans wetsuit.) Plus, it cracks me up every time that one guy there slips and takes a header. Seriously, next time you watch, take a shot every time he eats it. You will be wasted in no time.

Oh, yeah! And she was mad at me because of my whole, “take her out under some real stars, genius” rant. I guess that idea sounded really romantic to her, and she’s pissed I never take her to lay out in the desert under the night sky. Yeah — because I bought you a giant house with a back patio where you can comfortably look at the stars. You know, without having to lay on the ground. Where all the dirt is… and the bugs… and the scorpions… and, you know… all that “icky nature stuff.” I think that’s a helluva lot more romantic, and… she eventually came around to my point of view. What can I say? I’m pretty convincing.

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