What do you call someone watching Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil on laserdisc while eating a bowl of microwave popcorn at 5:35am?
I guess that might sound like the set up to a joke so niche no one on earth would get the answer, but the honest to god answer is me.
Does that make me the punchline of my own bit? Am I George Lucas and Jar Jar Binks all at once?
It’s possible. However, like a storyteller of Hitchcock-ian proportions, I’ve intentionally withheld a specific piece of information.
I will tell you what that information is, but first we have to cut away to the B plot in order to keep things suspenseful.
Mr. Levitan went into work that morning with a smile on his face. He counted each and every step he took to his desk, as usual. One-thousand thirty two, one-thousand thirty three. Four. Five. Basic calculated behaviour, Levitan figured.
It had taken years, days, hours, and minutes of dedication, but today, he was certain, he would make executive accountant. However, the one thing he never expected, even in his wildest dreams, was that today was actually labour day.
Cut back to:
Curtis Mutter, sexy but doesn’t know it, wiping popcorn grease on a Ninja Turtles t-shirt. We pan over on the bed to reveal the previously (and expertly) withheld information — a girl, fast asleep (these things happen when black and white movies enter the bedroom) wearing a Spider-Man tee.
So, what do you call someone watching Touch of Evil on laserdisc while eating a bowl of microwave popcorn at 6:17 (Jesus, is that how long it took to write this thing)? Some dope’s boyfriend.
What a sucker.