Last night we wanted to watch something appropriate to Easter, and since the Passion of the Christ isn't out on video, we chose the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Both horror flicks. Couldn't hang. We made it about twenty minutes and I was nauseous. I won't bore the few of you who follow this with a sociological diatribe on the effects of media violence, but I'll just say that those who think american violence is a mystery should rent that movie. It'll clear things right up. Now, some of you might chastise me and remind me that I did, after all, rent the damn thing; that I did, after all, exert my own free american will, which I debate, is not free, that there is no such thing as free will, that we are all a soup of hormones and upbringing and have so little to say about how it all goes that it is laughable to have words like "choice" in our vocabularies. Anyway, there I go....
I just want to say that I love any good reason for new underwear, and lace the color of easter eggs. That's what I really wanted to write about. Damn....
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