Monday, June 16, 2008

Bad.

For some time now I have been wrestling with the problem of why I like bad movies so much. I do actually spend a lot of time thinking about this - usually as I'm watching Joan Collins being chased round the Everglades by giant, radioactive ants, or Italians from outer-space delivering incomprehensibly ill-translated techno-bollocks at each other - and, from time to time, I do come to some conclusions which seem to make some sort of sense - none of which I seem to be able to communicate to people without their eyes starting to glaze over. People just don't get it, no matter how well I explain my current idea about the Cult of the Bad to them.

I suspect the world may be divided into those that get it and those that don't. Just like the way the world is divided into those people who are able to roll their tongues*, or taste phenylthiocarbamide. It's a genetic thing. You can or you can't. You're either in one camp or the other.

There's no middle ground but how do you tell the two camps apart?

I think I have finally found a litmus test: if you don't find William Shatner's version of Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man dangerously funny, then we've got very different genes.





















*Mutants!

2 comments:

pj said...

I think there may be at least one shade of grey in there somewhere.

You and my friends Felipe and Andy are definitely genetically identical when it comes to your adoration, endless patience and devotional interest in bad movies.

And there are people who simply don't get it.

And then there's me and my friends who very much appreciate the Liams, Felipes and Andies. We can watch some of those movies with you, and dig them to some extent and even love them. But maybe not all of them.

I'm not sure what kind of "Hag" that makes us. We're some kind of middle of the road, not yet super hero level side kick or filthy assistant. We don't have the mutant gene, but we can appreciate the burden of the genius, and we do our best to help out.

Kinetikat said...

Don't knock the tongue rolling thing, dude. It's a genetic adaptation to the wide availability of soft drinks and a dearth of decent straws, if you ask me. Come the DNA revolution we'll all have hollow proboscis-tongues like insectoid ant-eaters (which, come to think of it, could solve world hunger too, hmm...)
But even we tongue-rollers can be freaked out by the even rarer tongue-folders. Oh, yes, they exist! They can pleat the front of their tongue into symmetrical folds like a Roman blind, it's just WRONG!
(Oh, and we all know where you live. Listen for a quiet slurping down a dark alley one summer night)
;-)
Kinetikat

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