I mentioned last week that we went to Wassail Fest with some friends on Thursday night. And for those of y’all that asked, wassail is a type of hot, spiced tea drink that may or may not have alcohol in it depending on whether you’re drinking the version served by First Baptist Church or the Harley-Davidson store.
There is really nothing as festive as drinking hot holiday beverages while enjoying 80 degree temperatures at 7:30 p.m. in the evening. It’s like something out of a Christmas storybook, especially the perspiration.
As we were eating dinner before Wassail Fest, we got on the subject of movies. It’s important to know that our friends are anywhere from seven to twelve years younger than us. Because we are old.
So, the conversation turned into a discussion of what age we were allowed to see PG, PG-13 and R movies. And I basically announced that P and I start our day with Metamucil and Ben-Gay by declaring that there was no such thing as PG-13 when we were growing up. Because we are old.
And the moving pictures were a new phenomenon when we were in high school. Like the horseless carriage.
I recalled that one of the first R rated movies I ever saw was “The Breakfast Club”, not that my parents were aware of that fact until just this moment. Then I questioned if “The Breakfast Club” was even rated R. P confirmed that it was because it showed the characters “smoking dope”.
Thanks for that retro-phrasing, Grandpa.
We all agreed that these days a movie probably wouldn’t get an R rating just for showing mild drug use. P said that it was just a big deal back in the 80′s because “someone” in the Reagan administration started the whole “Just Say No” campaign.
I told him that the “someone” he was referring to was Nancy Reagan.
He said, “Are you sure?”
Before I tell y’all what my reply was, let me say that I feel certain there have been very few times in ten years of marriage that I’ve made P feel like he might be sorry I’m his wife. Except for maybe the time I threw the phone. Oh, and when I attempted to help him back up his truck to a trailer about a week ago, which almost resulted in his untimely demise.
And also, about five minutes ago when I accidentally sneezed all over his arm.
I said, “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t you remember when Nancy Reagan guest-starred on a very special episode of ‘Diff’rent Strokes’ where Willis had a friend that smoked the dope and, at a pivotal moment in the show, Arnold asked Nancy Reagan ‘Whatchyoo talkin’ ’bout Mrs. Reagan?’”
That’s when the whole table looked at me like I was, at that moment, lighting up some dope to smoke. And also, that I should perhaps hurry home to wait for my Social Security check.
There is really nothing that says intellectual conversation and also, I AM A RELIC FROM THE 70′s like citing an episode of Diff’rent Strokes.
Even if it was a very special episode.
And so, speaking of movies and quality television, the writers’ strike is seriously impeding my television watching style. All of my shows are now on indefinite hiatus.
Well, except for “Project Runway”. Oh, and “Battle of the Choirs” which starts next week. Because I do love some reality television. Almost as much as I love Gary Coleman.
I’m thinking this might be a good time to catch up on all the movies I’ve missed over the last four and a half years. It’s hard to justify going to the movies on a regular basis when, between the cost of the movie and the babysitter, you’re out $156.00 before you even buy the Milk Duds. And if it ends up being a bad movie? Well then you just want to burn the theater to the ground.
Or maybe that’s just me.
So, how about it? What movies should I run down to Hollywood Video and rent to get us through these trying television times?
Keep in mind that I am someone who can still quote “Diff’rent Strokes” episodes from almost thirty years ago, so, clearly, I have very sophisticated, intellectual tastes.