2003-03-14

Wednesday night I went to Blockbuster, because I wasn’t feeling well and I wanted the mental equivalent of pablum to help while away my evening. I ended up in line behind a couple renting The Ring. They asked the clerk if the movie was any good (excellent plan, because “discerning taste in film” is right under “opposable thumbs” on the list of hiring criteria for Blockbuster employees). The following conversation ensued, much to my violent annoyance:

Idiot Customer: “You seen this? Is it any good?”

Clerk 1: “Yeah, it’s OK.”

IC: “It says on the box that it’s better than Signs.”

Clerk 2: “It’s supposed to be the best scary movie since Sixth Sense.”

IC: “It says Signs on the box.”

C2: “Well, it’s more like Sixth Sense.”

C1: “I guess the comparison can be made with Signs because they’re both thrillers.”

IC: “Is it better than Signs?”

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation, because at that point I submerged my head in a nearby bin of Skittles in order to muffle my screams. Really, how could someone actually use up valuable oxygen in such a way? That’s like arguing about which brand of laxative is best. Whatever you pick, the end result is a pile of shit.