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An Open Letter to People Who Say “Movies Just Don’t Scare Me”
We get it, you’re super cool and adult
Congratulations. No, seriously. Congrats. You did it. You made it. You’re officially the only adult in the room.
While everyone else is busy having fun trying to discuss their favorite horror films, you’re too worried about the status of the Great Barrier Reef to give it any serious consideration. You’re not trying to be depressing. It’s just, you know, that reality must take precedence over fiction.
It must be so difficult being one of the highly evolved, one of the first who took note of the grand disparity between the real world and the world of make-believe. When the other kids shouted, “You can’t stand there! The floor is lava!” and you simply shrugged and said, “No it isn’t,” why did they blame you for being a buzz kill?
Truly, it isn’t your fault. You’re just not wired to enjoy the trivial entertainments of the imagination. You’ve risen above the archaic pleasures of the Coliseum, the desire to see the blood flow, or to feel the vicarious thrill of the hunted squirming beneath the blade of the hunter.
Long ago you realized that all these stories were basically the same, a formula of barbaric manipulation and cheap shock value. That the blood was just dyed maple syrup…
