I’m home, minding my own business. The front door is locked, the windows secure. I’m wearing my jammies.
And then, unexpectedly, I’m violated.
By my television.
I might be innocently watching the nightmare that is the Rock of Love Bus or a grisly surgery on House when the show cuts to a commercial. Sigh. Instead of a Cover Girl or Comcast ad, it’s a goddammed horror movie trailer. A young girl is running in the woods, presumably away from a psychopath or the not-so-Steadicam that’s hunting her down. In just two minutes, I hear a lot of screaming and I see duct tape, knives, guns, menace, sweaty faces that haven’t been shaved in days, lots of moody lighting, fear, choppy editing, a microwave…
My heart is racing and I’m seriously disturbed.
It's coming from inside the house.
Like Drew Barrymore in the opening sequence of Scream, I can’t escape. It’s bad enough that Friday the 13th forever screwed my chances for a fear-free camping trip, but now I have to be afraid every time I reach for the remote. The obvious solution is to quickly turn the channel or turn off the TV before I punch it in the cathode ray tube. Fuck that. These trailers make me mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more.
It's time to turn the tables on my tormentors. I need to strap on my hockey mask, pull on a red-and-black striped sweater, pick up my hand saw/ice pick/mallet/meat hook/rusty farm tool and…oh heck, who am I kidding? I can't go serial killer on these trailers' asses, as they are digital and as elusive as Jack the Ripper. Unless I infiltrate a movie trailer producer's studio and wipe the hard drive, crash the servers, and destroy the FTP site, my hands are tied (but not in a Hostel kind of way). Wait a minute, I bet that demon chicklet in need of a deep conditioner and a comb from The Ring could help. Samara could crawl back into the TV and magnetize anything that triggers my gag reflex.
Meanwhile, I'll watch a Clean House marathon on the Style network and mute the cheesy freecreditreport.com commercials. That kind of horror I can stomach any time.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
10 comments:
Maybe you should get rid of your TV and read more Proust?
Like water off a ducks back, I just let things like that go. Think it's called passive-aggressive behavior. Then I say, "sure glad I don't have to see that" and I really am.
Hey, Tommy:
http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2009/03/tools-who-dont-believe-in-tv.html
Sung to the tune of Try To Remember: TiVo·TiVo·TiVo·TiVo·TiVo·TiVo·TiVo·TiVo...
I love how the only promotion that The Haunting in Connecticut needs is having a tree branch phantom spawn out of a teenage boy's mouth. In honor of you, I would like to punch that in the face until it recedes into the boy's throat and then punch the boy in the face. Seems only appropriate.
a microwave.
HAHAAAHA!!
I read a review of House on the Left that gave it an F rating. It's apparently the most pruriently disturbing horror film possible, and among that genre, that's saying a lot. Give me Rosemary's Baby with the devil doing it, over the evil neighbors with garden tools, any day.
wait a minute... don't give me either!
Those trailers make me so angry! I was watching basketball in the afternoon with my eight-year-old and that Last House on the Right trailer came on!!!!!!! Don't those bastards have any decency at all????????????????????????????????
I find Rock of Love and Hugh Laurie's British teeth far more frightening than any horror movie preview.
Speaking of movies, see if you can guess this:
"Last time I saw her, she was at the bottom of an elevator shaft with an SUV up her ass."
Equally terrifying is the little boy who whispers "Zoom Zoom"!!
Post a Comment