Black Friday Is Almost Here!
The Inventory team is rounding up deals you don’t want to miss, now through Cyber Monday. Click here to browse!

Counterpoint: Open Letter From a Movie Texting Asshole Nerd

Illustration for article titled Counterpoint: Open Letter From a Movie Texting Asshole Nerd

Cinemark will now reward you for not texting during a movie. Instead of the more logical alternative, which is tasing you. Gizmodo reader Eyaare disagrees. Here is his counterpoint, presented without comment:


Okay. Listen.

I'm tired of getting called an idiot, or retard, or whatever else you fuckers call people who text during movies, alright? I'm not stupid. Maybe I lack courtesy. Maybe. That's behavioral. That ain't about intelligence. So get the stick outta yer bum.

Second, I'm not even texting, smartass. Like, 50 gazillion apps on this phone and you assume I'm just "ruining your experience" to continue a chat about my acquaintance's new dog. Please. But no, you know everything, you gotta be right, you read some fucking wikipedia articles vaguely related to psychology and you suddenly know what everyone's thinking. Shut up you psuedointellectual twat.

For your information, I'm tweeting. I've got 100 followers. So 100 people to hear what I say, verses whether you, one person, have to ignore a little light in the corner of your eye. Stop bitching. I'm more important than you. And, you're crying over a little light. Jesus. Get outside more often. Nerd.

I'm continuing the timeless tradition of spoiling movies. I'm enhancing the world's experience. Some people may not ever see "YuGiOh The Movie." I'm providing a service. They'll see my tweets, and next comiccon they won't feel left out. You're just sitting there watching a movie. As if your damn experience matters. You want to be able to ignore the other people in the movie theater? Buy the DVD. Torrent that shit. I don't care. I payed to sit in the same theater as you. Know what? You stink. Bad. You need to shower. But you don't see me equating your stench to a crime.

Can't live your life bound by the eye-rolling of society. Text in movies. Hell, play angry birds in movies. #YOLO


Image credit: Shutterstock/Patrizia Tilly

Share This Story

Get our newsletter


Here's the thing though. While you are tweeting your 100 followers the plot of the movie, how good your nachos are, how uncomfortable the chair is, whatever, I am using my elite hacking skills to hack into your phone. That's right. I quickly find out where you are and where you and your family live.

Then I quietly leave the movie theatre and to your mom's place. I pretend to leave a package or something, maybe deliver a pizza and I start some small talk. Oh, I start coy yet charming, and smile at her and laugh at her quaint jokes. Then just before I leave I touch her on the wrist, call her a "peach" and bid her a good day.

Then I study her, her patterns, and what she likes, where she goes. Pretty soon I'm in her yoga class, and isn't she surprised! We giggle while trying to follow the instructor, and laugh at how fat Debbie in the corner can't do a decent Downward Dog. After a grueling session I say I have some time to kill and ask her if she'd like a coffee. It begins.

Slowly but surely, I worm my way into her life. I take her shopping. I help her install that new gadget she just got because I'm sooo good with my hands. I then take her to that thing she wanted to see, but you were too busy to get tickets for. Oh we laugh and have fun, all the while she knows she is too old for me, but she loves the attention anyway. One night, after helping her beat Gladys and Merle at a game of Hearts and a few drinks making the mood light, I look her in the eyes. Long and hard. She knows it's wrong, but can't resist, and I carry her upstairs.

It's a whirlwind romance all right. I make sure it moves so fast she can barely keep up. Something nags at the back of her mind that it won't work, but she pushes that away, enjoying the attentions of a much younger man too much to care. After a few weeks, I make my move. One night over at the Finkelstein's Kwanzaa party, I make like I dropped my shrimp ring, drop to one knee, and pull out the ring. Everyone one is shocked at first, but soon they all start clapping in excitement! Your mom starts crying and can barely mouth out a "yes" before I swoop her off her feet.

The engagement is short, because we are just so excited. We decide on a small ceremony, since she doesn't want another big hullabaloo and I'm a Pastafarian. Just some family and friends, with TV's Tony Danza performing the ceremony (he was cheap and I had a coupon). You walk your mom down the aisle and stand beside me. I smile and tell you that we need to have a man to man talk after the ceremony. It's beautiful by the way. Tony certainly has a way with words.

At the reception, I pull you aside and straighten your tie (really, watch a video or something, that knot is terrible). I look you in the eye and say:

"Son, I'm your father now. I want you to know that I take this duty very seriously. Now, I am confiscating your cell phone, because apparently you don't realize how rude it is to use this in a crowded theatre you ungrateful little turd. Man up, and stop being a little punk you worthless little degenerate."

Then, being your dad, I toss your phone on the ground and smash it. I call every phone company in the country and tell them that as your father, you are permanently banned from ever owning a mobile phone again. I then immediately divorce your mother, take half of everything she has and open up a small coffee shop in a sketchy part of town. It turns out I'm not that great an entrepreneur, and the shop fails miserably. I beg your mom to take me back and she does, but I immediately start having an affair with her best friend Gladys. But I digress, and I think I've gone astray. The crux of the matter is that I broke your phone, suckah.