Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas has been sitting on my desk for some time now. Tonight, I decided what the hell. I’d watch it. Couldn’t hurt, right? I’d passed judgement without seeing it, which is not the openminded thing to do. I should watch it. Since I had time, I’d go ahead and do it.
So I put it in.
And I watched.
For maybe ten minutes.
I watched as the main character and his lawyer walked out on a check, practically stole a rental car (or at least made it obvious that they were going to trash it), picked up a hitchhiker and proceeded to psychologically terrorize him–all, of course, while reacting in various ways to the drugs they’d brought with them.
When the lawyer got out a gun and started shooting into the air, I said, “Whatever,” and closed the window.
I told Sean I’d watched the first part and turned it off. He immediately told his friends on Ventrilo. From his side of the conversation it appeared that they agreed with Sean that I was being retarded.
“I’m closeminded,” I called obnoxiously from the closet, where I was returning the shoes I’d gathered from the office. “Maybe it comes from being [specifics omitted out of respect for all parties involved]. I just don’t care about watching people get stupid and abuse other people. It’s not my thing.”
I decided to take a bath, and as I started the water running I thought about my decision. I was right–it probably was due to that. After all, after being on the receiving end of that sort of behavior, when all you wanted was for them to shut up and leave you alone so you could go to sleep–
As tears suddenly burned my eyes, it occurred to me that I might have some unresolved issues.